L'Chaim

February 26, 2009

The wakeup call was at 5:30, breakfast at 6 and board the bus for the drop-off point at 7. It was chilly enough for a long-sleeved shirt that would soon be shed, once we started walking. Backpacks were filled with at least 2 1.5 liter bottles of water and sandwiches, nuts, candies, and cut vegetables for lunch. After a quick stop by the driver for cigarettes at the kiosk just down the rode from the Field School, the bus headed up a ridge that would take us to the starting point for our 6-7 mile trek. The “road” for this several hundred foot climb was at least a dozen switchbacks, requiring iron nerves if not skill by the driver. The road, originally developed by the British for mineral development in the area, was for many years the only route from Jerusalem to Eilat, the southern most point in Israel.

As we climbed, the view from the bus provided impressions of the vastness of the desert and the extraordinary geologic formations that arose millions of years ago when the Africa-Syrian rift split Africa from Asia, resulting in the Dead Sea, hundreds of feet below sea level, among other formations. The entire Negev was the floor of a giant sea millions of years ago, so just picture standing on the floor of on an ocean where the water has disappeared. There are valleys, rolling hills, tall peaks, river beds where massive currents carve out the floor. The composition is not that of a sandy desert, but rocky and dusty because there is less than 8 inches of annual rainfall.

Alighting from the “safety” of the bus, the barrenness, bleakness and isolation bring to life what had just been impressions. Our group of 25 heads off on a trail marked by painted rocks that indicate the route and the direction. In no time our group has spread out so it’s barely possible to spot those who are hundreds of meters in the distance. Think 600,000 Hebrews departing from Egypt three thousand years ago or recall Cecil B. DeMille’s The Ten Commandments. The composition of the ground is not that of a sandy desert, but rather rocks from pebbles to massive boulders and dry, dry dirt, so the actual walking is not difficult, but the sense of isolation, even hiking with others nearby, is intense. Looking ahead at the specks of hikers in the distance or surveying the stunning desert landscape with no apparent signs of life and there is an existential, uncluttered, purifying feeling along with the isolation.

As remote as the setting seems to be, from the first hill, off in the hazy distance, we can see the Dimona nuclear reactor and then at the other end of that valley is a large white structure that looks like Moby Dick. It’s the security blimp that provides early warning from the sky to the reactor. Within an hour or two, the blimp had launched for its daily flight and without clouds or other ways to provide perspective, the large whale always seemed to be following us whether we were on a hill, in a ravine or at the bottom of a gorge.

Off in the distance, at the top of a hill, sit the remains of a Roman guard post. Two questions came to mind. How on earth could some Roman guards stay in this post without going mad from boredom? Forget the 6-7 miles, would I really be able to make it to that first rest stop?

It may be trite, but a picture is truly worth a thousand words when describing the Negev, so I won’t try. What I can describe is one recurrent experience. Two or sometimes three of us are walking and talking when we come to the top of a rise, or the edge of a gorge. The scene is quite literally breathtaking, so the conversation just stops. It stops. Sometimes one of us, to be polite, would say, “excuse me for a minute,” but often it just stopped. We pause, inhale the scene, perhaps take a photo, contemplate the wonder experiencing this kind of powerful beauty for a minute or two and then march on. A few minutes later, around another corner, the identical choreography. Again...and again...and again.

The Negev is definitely not lifeless. There are occasional acacia trees with their tiny leaves to preserve moisture from evaporation, an occasional tuft of some type of desert grass, but for the most part dry, hazy, dry, and unending. The final mile or so took us into the gorge of an ancient, mostly dry river bed, except for the occasional flash flood after a storm. At the end of the gorge, however, is a spring. The bed is damp, maybe even muddy, but there are pools carved out of the rocks lining the edge of the gorge. Water, of course, means life in the desert. A large bush of tiny purple flowers presided over the damp bed and insists that one examine her. Quickly I notice bees swarming over the flowers, then small flies about the dampness, then some small yellow flowers on the opposite “shore” of this spring, shaded by a massive rock overhang, then some daisies, then grass providing a welcome mat for the large bush, then lush green moss carpeting parts of the mud. Life finds a way. As we all sat in the shade of an overhang, a young, vibrant couple, accompanied by a large frolicking dog, climbed down from the edge of the gorge, to one of the pools, about 25 yards from where we were resting. They apparently had parked their car in a parking lot not far from this point, where the bus was to pick us up. The young woman was quite pregnant. As the dog enjoyed running through the pools and exploring the growing things, she reclined near one of the pools, looking very pregnant, as the young man took a photo. After she clambered to her feet, the man removed his shirt and then his pants, leaving only his lime green briefs. The woman than removed her purple top and her slacks, dressed in a black bra, gray panties and a firm, bulging abdomen. The young man jumped into the pool, followed by the dog. The woman dangled her feet and played with the dog as he shook the water from his coat. We finished our rest and lunch, climbed up to and past the pools, chatting briefly with this handsome, invigorating couple (who had come from Haifa, about 7 hours away) as we concluded our trek.