McGresty
Wildlife as it happens
Visit to the Negev
I visited Israel again and spent some time in the Negev Desert alone. Arriving on a Thursday evening meant having to bunk up for three nights at the budget hotel where I had stayed previously, because Shabbat begins Friday evening. This gave me about half a day to get some local currency in my pocket and stock up on food. I had made the decision to hitch-hike, kept the costs down, before I left home.
Having to spend a couple of days in Jerusalem, saw me wandering about the old city. The first time there, a few years back, I had met a member of the Remnant. He could trace his family back to before the time of Babylon. God has always kept a remnant of the Children of Israel in the country, when the rest of them were spread around the world because of Babylonian and Roman diasporas (dispersions).
Leaving Jerusalem by foot, heading for a road which runs south. I had ended up on Road 90 going through the West Bank, but then with my surname and saying I was a travel blogger, no problem. I was tremping, the Israeli word for hitch hiking, toward Jericho and a guy stopped to drop me off at a nice hostel on the outskirts of the city where I got a bed for the night.
This section of Jericho is a bit outside of town and Route 90 is on the other side. The people were quite friendly and poor, yet there seemed to be a comradeship amongst them, the type you find when everyone is in the same situation and just have to get along in order to survive. In it's supermarket I saw an old lady counting her pennies. The man refused payment and even gave her a few extras. They take care of each other.
Physically it's not much to look at, but I kind of liked it. I left the hostel early hoping that I would not have too much trouble reaching the Dead Sea road, I was on it quickly and caught my first ride. The Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth.
A man whose business took him there dropped me off at the main resort. I had a bit to eat and wandered about before continuing my journey. The area was quite a few kilometers from the entrance to the main road and I had to walk it. Once at the junction I began my tremp. Here in Israel, when hitch-hiking, you don't use your thumb. If you do: the driver acknowledges you, smiles, gives you a thumbs up and does not stop. Instead you hold the hand with the palm facing the traffic and the first 2 fingers together. Doing this brought me a ride by a truck driver going to Dimona.
From the depths of the Dead Sea, we rose hundreds of meters through the desert mountains. So far, the entire time had been in a dust storm, which lasted a few days. It was the first time I had been in one. The air was filled with dust. The sun was a sort of light browny hazy glow in the sky. I have a pair of sunglasses that are scratch proof and wrap a fair ways around my head so my eyes were well protected.
The dust was all over the place and everything covered in it, including me. Sometimes visibility was down to less than a kilometer, other times I could make out the vague shapes of distant mountains, like spectres calling you to step into the storm and be eaten by the dust monster. And... it was cold, about 5-7C plus the wind chill factor. Sandstorms are different and you don't even want to think about trying to travel in one.
It's a pity about it, because the landscape can hardly be seen and I missed a lot of the beauty of the Negev. My lungs were full of the stuff so every now and then I had to force a good, get rid of the phlem cough to clear them up. Now I know why the Bedouin wear those head coverings with part of it wrapped over their mouth and nose.
Beyond Dimona is Yeruham, where I spent the night. It was here that I managed to change direction toward Beer Sheva. Once morning arrived, I set out toward Beer Sheva. As I walked toward the road, there was this guy, waiting at a bus stop. It was in Yeruham that the enormous expense and unreliability of travel in England really bore home to me. A bus to Beer Sheva cost only 7 Shekels and was a lot more comfortable than English ones. This particular day the dust storm had stopped and sun came out with the thermometer hitting about 20-25C. Enroute I kept an eye out for a place to get off and head out into the desert on foot. However, the bus wouldn't stop until it arrived in the city.
It was a bit confusing there. People, including officials, sending me in the wrong directions. I lost time because of that but finally managed to catch a bus going back to Yeruham and a helpful person translated to the driver, who could not understand why I wanted to get off the bus in the middle of nowhere. "Just stop the bus and lemme off!" He did and I stepped out onto the desert floor.
Finally, later than planned, I was all alone in the Negev. My fleece came off, I tied the arms around my waist, rolled up my shirt sleeves and set off for some nearby mountains. Early on there was a pile of camel dung, probably no more than half a day old, no dust on it, but the beast was gone and I never saw one. Nearby there was a broken branch of a desert tree. It was still solid and I used it as a pole to give me some stability over rock strewn sand and dirt. There are a lot of small stones and rocks all over the desert floor, making it easy to sprain an ankle. There they were, like malevolent imps, waiting for an unsuspecting human to fall prey to their expertise in destroying balance.
I don't know if the whole Negev is like this or not. I stood there thinking that if I do half a mile per hour that'd be good. However, I stopped for a minute and can only say I sensed the 'rhythm of the desert' then strode out and covered at least 2 miles per hour. Ahead were some low hills, mountains really, the altitude here is fairly high. Two were cleared and I stopped, looking for a place to stop and chill. About 50 feet below was a likely looking spot and I wove through the stones to reach it. At one point a slight scramble was required to cross some washed away ground (called Wadi here).
Setting my pack down onto the ground, I just sat and stared. The sun was smiling at me and I felt good. My jeans began to slide down a little, I had lost some weight over the last few days of walking about. Tightening my belt added to the whole sense of well being which was taking place. With the sun heading swiftly toward the horizon, the return to Beer Sheva was on the cards.
A bus stop was about a kilometer or so down the road. So I grabbed the first one that came by—all busses go to Beer Sheva. The driver turned out to be the same one as on the outward journey, he looked at me, bewilderment in his eyes and I just winked, paid my fare, said toda (thank you in Hebrew) then sat down. The nice little trek and time alone had been good for my soul. I just wish I could have been there a lot longer.
A short while later I arrived in Beer Sheva. A huge market is next to the bus station, so I grabbed a few bits of food to eat and a bottle of orange juice. I had spent 3 days in the Negev, but only one where I would hike more than a mile or so. The people were great.
It was still winter and nightime temperatures slid down into the low thirties. An hotel, in the old part of town, which didn't cost a bomb was found and I had a good night's sleep. The next day I returned to Jerusalem and spent a while with a friend I hadn't seen for some years. We had a good reunion over a glass of beer.
Having to spend a couple of days in Jerusalem, saw me wandering about the old city. The first time there, a few years back, I had met a member of the Remnant. He could trace his family back to before the time of Babylon. God has always kept a remnant of the Children of Israel in the country, when the rest of them were spread around the world because of Babylonian and Roman diasporas (dispersions).
Leaving Jerusalem by foot, heading for a road which runs south. I had ended up on Road 90 going through the West Bank, but then with my surname and saying I was a travel blogger, no problem. I was tremping, the Israeli word for hitch hiking, toward Jericho and a guy stopped to drop me off at a nice hostel on the outskirts of the city where I got a bed for the night.
This section of Jericho is a bit outside of town and Route 90 is on the other side. The people were quite friendly and poor, yet there seemed to be a comradeship amongst them, the type you find when everyone is in the same situation and just have to get along in order to survive. In it's supermarket I saw an old lady counting her pennies. The man refused payment and even gave her a few extras. They take care of each other.
Physically it's not much to look at, but I kind of liked it. I left the hostel early hoping that I would not have too much trouble reaching the Dead Sea road, I was on it quickly and caught my first ride. The Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth.
A man whose business took him there dropped me off at the main resort. I had a bit to eat and wandered about before continuing my journey. The area was quite a few kilometers from the entrance to the main road and I had to walk it. Once at the junction I began my tremp. Here in Israel, when hitch-hiking, you don't use your thumb. If you do: the driver acknowledges you, smiles, gives you a thumbs up and does not stop. Instead you hold the hand with the palm facing the traffic and the first 2 fingers together. Doing this brought me a ride by a truck driver going to Dimona.
Wild camels roam the Negev. I hoped to see some, but none appeared.
From the depths of the Dead Sea, we rose hundreds of meters through the desert mountains. So far, the entire time had been in a dust storm, which lasted a few days. It was the first time I had been in one. The air was filled with dust. The sun was a sort of light browny hazy glow in the sky. I have a pair of sunglasses that are scratch proof and wrap a fair ways around my head so my eyes were well protected.
That sky is the dust storm, which is why you can't see the mountains in the diatance.
The dust was all over the place and everything covered in it, including me. Sometimes visibility was down to less than a kilometer, other times I could make out the vague shapes of distant mountains, like spectres calling you to step into the storm and be eaten by the dust monster. And... it was cold, about 5-7C plus the wind chill factor. Sandstorms are different and you don't even want to think about trying to travel in one.
It's a pity about it, because the landscape can hardly be seen and I missed a lot of the beauty of the Negev. My lungs were full of the stuff so every now and then I had to force a good, get rid of the phlem cough to clear them up. Now I know why the Bedouin wear those head coverings with part of it wrapped over their mouth and nose.
Beyond Dimona is Yeruham, where I spent the night. It was here that I managed to change direction toward Beer Sheva. Once morning arrived, I set out toward Beer Sheva. As I walked toward the road, there was this guy, waiting at a bus stop. It was in Yeruham that the enormous expense and unreliability of travel in England really bore home to me. A bus to Beer Sheva cost only 7 Shekels and was a lot more comfortable than English ones. This particular day the dust storm had stopped and sun came out with the thermometer hitting about 20-25C. Enroute I kept an eye out for a place to get off and head out into the desert on foot. However, the bus wouldn't stop until it arrived in the city.
It was a bit confusing there. People, including officials, sending me in the wrong directions. I lost time because of that but finally managed to catch a bus going back to Yeruham and a helpful person translated to the driver, who could not understand why I wanted to get off the bus in the middle of nowhere. "Just stop the bus and lemme off!" He did and I stepped out onto the desert floor.
Finally, later than planned, I was all alone in the Negev. My fleece came off, I tied the arms around my waist, rolled up my shirt sleeves and set off for some nearby mountains. Early on there was a pile of camel dung, probably no more than half a day old, no dust on it, but the beast was gone and I never saw one. Nearby there was a broken branch of a desert tree. It was still solid and I used it as a pole to give me some stability over rock strewn sand and dirt. There are a lot of small stones and rocks all over the desert floor, making it easy to sprain an ankle. There they were, like malevolent imps, waiting for an unsuspecting human to fall prey to their expertise in destroying balance.
This is the desert floor. It's mainly ancient dirt with some sand and is quite hard. Look at all those rocks you have to go through.
I don't know if the whole Negev is like this or not. I stood there thinking that if I do half a mile per hour that'd be good. However, I stopped for a minute and can only say I sensed the 'rhythm of the desert' then strode out and covered at least 2 miles per hour. Ahead were some low hills, mountains really, the altitude here is fairly high. Two were cleared and I stopped, looking for a place to stop and chill. About 50 feet below was a likely looking spot and I wove through the stones to reach it. At one point a slight scramble was required to cross some washed away ground (called Wadi here).
Setting my pack down onto the ground, I just sat and stared. The sun was smiling at me and I felt good. My jeans began to slide down a little, I had lost some weight over the last few days of walking about. Tightening my belt added to the whole sense of well being which was taking place. With the sun heading swiftly toward the horizon, the return to Beer Sheva was on the cards.
A bus stop was about a kilometer or so down the road. So I grabbed the first one that came by—all busses go to Beer Sheva. The driver turned out to be the same one as on the outward journey, he looked at me, bewilderment in his eyes and I just winked, paid my fare, said toda (thank you in Hebrew) then sat down. The nice little trek and time alone had been good for my soul. I just wish I could have been there a lot longer.
A short while later I arrived in Beer Sheva. A huge market is next to the bus station, so I grabbed a few bits of food to eat and a bottle of orange juice. I had spent 3 days in the Negev, but only one where I would hike more than a mile or so. The people were great.
It was still winter and nightime temperatures slid down into the low thirties. An hotel, in the old part of town, which didn't cost a bomb was found and I had a good night's sleep. The next day I returned to Jerusalem and spent a while with a friend I hadn't seen for some years. We had a good reunion over a glass of beer.
Note: I made the 2 trips to Israel a few years ago and used them to kick off this subject.
Worth the effort.
Oct 05, 2023
More posts from: On the road
Ksar es Seghir On the hill Tanja Kasbah A time in Tanja Beer Sheva disaster Local trips from Pamplona Pamplona in the Fall Visit to the Negev First time in Jerusalem