On the third day of this Pesach’s Chol HaMoed I planned a trip for my family to a series of interesting sites along the Old Northern Road (also known as Road 899) which hugs the Israel-Lebanon border. With intentions on eating lunch somewhere along the way, we packed a nice picnic, including fruits and snacks, cold drinks, a pan of matza lasagna and even a bottle of chilled white wine. Leaving Ma’alot, we headed in the direction of the Mediterranean Sea but turned right at Kabri Junction to reach the Old Northern Road.

X marks the spots

Our first stop was just up ahead, ruins at the junction of the road to Manot. The site, aptly named Manot ruins, was relatively easy to find and we only suffered a few thorn pricks and the incredible burning sensation gifted to us by a mysterious spiky plant. Walking through the wildflowers, we first came across the Crusader sugar press, carved into the bedrock, which supplied cane sugar (a great commodity at the time) to Europe, making them rich and valuable. Just beyond it we found the thick walls of the fortified farmhouse from the Roman and Byzantine periods.

My father at the Manot ruins

Getting back into the car, we drove through the town of Shlomi to reach Kibbutz Hanita, where we had two destinations. We enjoyed the winding route up the mountain and parked beside a wonderful children’s park with wooden play structures. The whole family took part in the fun and only after we accidentally ventured into the kibbutz’s dining room did we regain focus and find the Tower and Stockade Museum.

Tower and Stockade Museum

Housed in a stone building which was built on the remains of a Byzantine church, and had since served a variety of purposes, the museum chronicles the founding of Hanita and the pioneering concept of “tower and stockade”. During the Arab Revolt in the late 1930’s, the Jews developed a quickly constructed way to settle down in an area otherwise overrun with dangerous Arab raiding parties. And so, some fifty-seven “tower and stockade” settlements were created over a four-year period – including Shavei Tzion. Hanita was established in 1938 but at its time was a great feat, as the climb to Hanita was rather difficult and would leave them all unprotected. So the Lower Camp was created and at daybreak on March 21st, the huge procession began – protected by the Haganah and the “Notrim”. Clearly a success story, the museum displays numerous artefacts and photographs from the time, as well as some other curiosities such as a leopard skin illustrating the last known Arabian leopard in the region who was killed by a hunter in 1965 near the nearby Namer Caves. Being as though the museum was built within a historical building, it’s logical that there would be an archaeological wing as well. Most of the findings, including coins, weapons and plenty of mosaics, came from in and around Hanita including this impressive depiction of a wild boar:

Wild boar mosaic

Leaving Hanita, we stopped off at this replica of the tower and stockade that the kibbutz members once called home.

A tower and stockade

Now driving on the Old Northern Road, we turned into Goren Park for a nice view over Nachal Kziv and Montfort Castle as well as a place to picnic. We found a shaded spot beneath some pines and broom bushes and dined – sadly, the one thing we forgot was the corkscrew for the wine.

Montfort Castle

Taking the scenic park road back to the 899, we missed two ruins sites I had originally intended on visiting. Continuing, we then pulled over on the side of the road opposite Shomera for a little climb up a hill to see Iqrit. All that remains of an Arab village that once was is their church and cemetery.

Iqrit church with house

The locals, seated around a picnic table, expressed their great sorrow and frustration at having been relocated to other Arab cities and villages in Israel, with only a few left behind to care for the church, living in a lean-to house with outhouses in the back. All in all, interesting little operation they have going there. After the trot back down the hill we attempted to see the Tegart fort of Matat but we found it behind the fences of a military base, so we continued on. Our final stop was just to take photos from the top of Mount Adir, a gentle mountain reaching 1,008 metres above sea level. There is a short peak trail, but we stopped just shy of the military base and looked down at Druze village of Hurfeish.

View from Mount Adir

With that, we drove back to the 899 and then headed home leaving the Sasa-Koch stretch of the Old Northern Road for a later date.

Last week my sister and I took a day trip to the tip of the Upper Galilee, to the nature reserve of Nachal Iyun. One of the streams to feed into the famed Jordan River, Nachal Iyun emanates from springs in the Marjaayoun Valley in Lebanon, just north of the town of Metula. The Lebanese town and valley Marjaayoun means “meadow of springs” in Arabic, making Nachal Iyun meaning “stream of springs” and so it is. The Israeli part of the stream, and its series of waterfalls, curls around Metula bordered by the Israel-Lebanon border (the “Blue Line”) before petering out near Kiryat Shmona.

Anemone with bee

On our drive up we passed by a sizable collection of police, military and firefighting crews who had blocked off the opposing side of Road 90. Later I learned that there were terrorists spotted in Lebanon trying to place mines along the border. Just another day in Israel… But that didn’t stop up from enjoying some homemade herb biscuits with butter and cheese en route. We found the park, parked and began our hike of the nature reserve.

The view to the Naftali Mountains

But what’s a nature hike without a sprinkling of regional history? The area of Iyun, and even the stream itself, are mentioned several times in the Bible and subsequent books by the Sages. First, the retelling of scuffles between the divided Jewish kingdoms of Israel and Judah. King Asa of Judah, great-grandson of King Solomon, gave Iyun (as well as Dan and other Naftali cities) to King Ben Hadad of Aram Damascus as a bribe to turn the Aramaeans against the Kingdom of Israel under King Baasha. Later, it’s mentioned as the border of Galilee in regards to religious commandments applicable only to the Holy Land. In more modern times, the bridge over the stream connecting Israel and Lebanon was blown up by the Palmach, one of eleven bridges targeted in the “Night of the Bridges” operation. These days there remains a threat from the Hezbollah terrorists who have control over southern Lebanon; in 2005 they diverted the stream within Lebanon and today water is supplemented from the neighbouring Snir Stream.

Looking up through the chimney of HaTanur Waterfall

After a short walk we reached the first of the four waterfalls: HaTanur Waterfall. A towering 30 metre (~100 foot) waterfall crashing into the soft limestone, the name HaTanur has three possible origins: a long Arab skirt, an chimney oven and a fast flowing current. We stood at the base and enjoyed the mist and the cold air, although it tended to make photography difficult.

It’s me!

Taking the winding trail-steps up the side of the gorge far above the falls, we passed by Metula’s cemetery with some gravestones from the late 1800’s. Reaching HaTanur Waterfall Lookout, we walked onto a platform jutting out over the edge of the slope to see the falls below.

HaTanur Waterfall from above

We continued on along the rim of the gorge until we reached very unusual steps leading down to the second waterfall: Cascade Falls. This two-stepped waterfall is on a much smaller scale, 9.5 and 5 metres (31 and 16.5 feet), with a bit of an unimpressive vantage point. In the winter months some 0.3-1.5 cubic millimetres of water flow through the stream each second but we visited not long after a pretty big storm so I’d imagine we were seeing a bit more. Just a few hundred metres further on the trail of the two-kilometre gorge we reached the beautiful Mill Falls, the third waterfall.

Mill Falls

An impressive 21 metres (69 feet) tall, Mill Falls is named after the remains of an old mill of which a tall wall and an uncovered arched structure can be still seen, built against the rock wall. I haven’t found any information about this mill which is a bit strange. Walking up the trail-steps to the Mill Lookout we watched water from the adjacent Ein Sucra spring trickle down a trough parallel to the trail. With the noise of the crashing water slowly fading behind us, we climbed in elevation once again heading for the final waterfall. At one point fairly close to the border we spotted a Lebanese shepherd and his goats grazing on the far ridge. We discussed whether or not he might be a Hezbollah spy – a pretty realistic assumption. Last time I encountered a Lebanese herd was when I was up in the Gladiola Outpost at the top of nearby Mount Dov and a wayward Lebanese herd found its way into the outpost and panicked when they tried to get back out. Two goats fell down a small cliff and some got cut up on the razor wire – it was quite a mess. You can see a picture of it HERE.

Lebanese shepherd with his goats

Shortly thereafter we entered a different park of the reserve, the Founders Grove with its tall trees and bubbling brook atmosphere. We spotted European robins flitting in the bushes and turtles basking in the sunlight. We then came to the end of the trail and the fourth waterfall: Iyun Waterfall.

Iyun Waterfall

Although it doesn’t quite look it in the above photo, this waterfall is 9.2 metres (30 feet) tall and the water up top was used by the British in the 1940’s. With that we turned around to hike back to the car (there is no long circular path). Being as though we were now facing the opposite way this time, we saw things at a different angle. It was only on the way back that I noticed the Dove Cave between the Cascade Falls and HaTanur Waterfall. In addition, we spotted deep wild boar tracks in the mud. But best of all, the magnificent view – this is looking at HaTanur Waterfall Lookout with the Gafni Lookout below:

Looking out at the lookout

Finished with the hike we got into the car and stopped off at Rosh Pina for some super-thin authentic Sicilian pizza before driving home.

This past Tuesday my parents and I took a little drive over to the nearby Mount Meron, the highest peak in the Galilee, to hike the peak trail. Turning off Road 89 in the direction of the Meron Field School, we stopped to take a little look at the Hamama Ruins. These arched structures are from the Ottoman Period and can be found throughout the area. In fact, we passed one on the drive home and I know of another one at the access road to Nachal Kziv from Ma’alot’s Industrial Area.

Hamama Ruins

Mount Meron reaches up 1,208 metres (3,963 ft) in elevation, surrounded by smaller Galilean mountains, and actually affects the weather and rainfall. On the road up, we pulled over so that I could take a photo of the the mountain from a somewhat stately angle.

Mount Meron

We continued driving up until we reaches the peak parking lot and disembarked, ready to get our hike on. The first things we noticed was the nippy chill and the fact that we were standing inside a cloud. What looks like fog in this picture is actually a low cloud, and the interesting flora on the slope made for a unique vista.

Cloudy mountain slope

Crossing the access road, we began the circular trail around the peak. There is a military base at the very peak and the trail wraps around it, marked as both the peak trail and the extensive Israel National Trail (which begins at Tel Dan and ends in Eilat, approximately 1,000 kilometres long). Thankfully, the peak trail is just a mild 2 kilometres long – perfect for families. Before long we reached the first observation point, looking out to the east. Although it was too cloudy to see anything, the sign mentioned that one can see Mount Hermon, Mount Bental, Safed as well as the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) – pretty impressive.

The trail continues…

Continuing along, we ran into some soldiers doing camouflaged training or something, some very interesting plants and this cool-looking mossy tree:

Interesting moss growth

And looking even closer on a different branch, here is lichen and moss growing side-by-side, byproducts of the damp environment:

Lichen and moss

Next we reached the Lebanon Lookout with a view of Manara Cliff, Yir’on, Yesha Fortress and Lebanese towns of Bint Jbeil and Rmeish. The visibility from this observation point was remarkably better, although limited to just a few kilometres. What amazed me most was seeing the rolling clouds beneath us, similar to being on a plane and looking out the window.

View to the north

Just a wee bit along the path we came across the remains of an ancient winepress cut into the mountain bedrock. The grapes would be manually crushed on the left while the juices would flow into the carved cistern on the right. Today, muddy water replaces grape juice and fire salamanders use this pool as a breeding sanctuary (these salamanders are more often associated with Tel Dan). We watched as the tiny salamander tadpoles swam around the murky pool, but trying to capture them on camera proved to be tricky.

Ancient winepress now salamander pool

Moving on, we spotted sections of the soft topsoil where wild boars had turn up in search for goodies (perhaps mushrooms and truffles). Right beside a feeding area we saw these mushrooms untouched, patiently awaiting demise in the jaws of a wild boar:

Wild mushrooms

The third, and final, observation point is the southern/western one – views of Mount Tabor, the Gilboa Mountains, Haifa University, Mount Carmel and Ma’alot. This side was heavily clouded and we could only see the closest ridge. Although just below the lookout is Beck’s Ruins, the story of an unfulfilled dream to build a Jewish settlement atop Mount Meron. Back in 1831, Rabbi Israel Beck immigrated to the Holy Land and settled in Safed owning a printing press. When Safed suffered a disastrous earthquake in 1837, he turned to the Egyptian governor Mohammad Ali to build on Mount Meron with ten other Jewish families. Within two years, due to hostile Turkish overlords and hard rural living, the settlement was abandoned and the Beck family moved to Jerusalem.

Beck’s Ruins

Shortly thereafter the trail reached the road and the clouds became quite dense. It was very agreeable walking through the cloud, seeing the mist whip by with the brisk wind. We continued on to the car and ended up getting rained on as we got further down the mountain, below the clouds. Fascinating stuff, I say!

This past Friday I went on a poorly-planned biking trip with my Manchunian friend Jonathan Kemp. Borrowing a mountain bike and a helmet the evening prior, we set out at 7am for a two-hour bike ride. Despite having grown with bicycles, riding them all the time, I hadn’t ridden a bike in over four years. The last time was when I rode with my best friend Bernie a one direction ride from Ma’alot to Nahariya – about an elevation drop of 500 meters (1,640 feet) – mostly downhill and on the main road. So with my weak biking muscles, I mounted my bike and followed Jonathan (a far more seasoned biker) out of Ma’alot and over to the nearby town of Meona (across Road 89 from Mi’ilya).

Our bike route

We entered Meona and turned off the street where the sign instructed, to the bike trails. We stopped to switch on the forward suspension (for off-road use) and began the comfortable pedaling on the dirt roads of the farm industrial area. Pretty soon we were riding along the Ma’alot Forest and then passed the sign for the nature reserve of Tel Marwa. We passed some cows, and a bull that made me feel uneasy, and then I spotted a mongoose making a dash for cover. We reached Ein Ya’akov and crossed Road 8833, just following the trail. What’s funny is that I told Jonathan that the trail is along Nachal Ga’aton but looking at the map, we never came close.

Bike trail marker

Just past the road we entered a pastoral little field and saw the proud ruins of Yehiam Fortress (or as the Crusaders called it, Judyn). Here I posed with the ruins in the distance:

Posing with Yehiam Fortress in the background

Entering what we’re calling Yehiam Forest, the trail immediately became more difficult. Growing up in Detroit, I’ve never had the opportunity to go actual mountain biking so this was new to me. I clutched the handlebars safely as I navigated the really narrow winding trail, avoiding potentially dangerous rocks and trees. Weaving back and forth as we rolled downhill through the pine trees, we passed by some serious bikers and then arrived at a little flat area with a small cave at the side. Not wanting to press on too far with our time constraints, we decided that this was a good place to turn back.

The little cave

Had we just another half-hour or so each way, I’m sure we could have reached Yehiam and perhaps actually have a cold pint at Malka Beer. Turning around and heading back uphill proved to be a bit of a challenge, at least for me. I huffed and puffed as I churned those bike pedals on low gear while Jonathan just zipped on up ahead.

“Come along now…”

Eventually we made it out of the forest and began the easier uphill ride back across Road 8833 and past Ein Ya’akov. At a safe section of the trail, I pedaled on ahead and took a photo of Jonathan in his element:

Jonathan Kemp

Attempting to wimp out several times along the way back uphill, but prodded along, I congratulated myself on reaching Meona – the end in sight. Riding along Road 89, we made the uphill push past Tarshicha and into Ma’alot. When we entered Ma’alot we noticed that the police had blocked the street off and wondered why. Straining uphill, we saw why – Ma’alot’s 1st annual run was scheduled that very Friday.

Runners

I’m thankful for all the runners passing by as it gave me a distraction from my achy thighs as I slowly pedaled my way towards my house. That’s my one gripe about mountain biking – however fun it is rolling downhill, the exact amount of misery will be experienced on the way back up. Finally we finished our two-hour loop and I dismounted; plans for another ride in the makings.

Last week I took my sisters on a short trip to the Hula Valley Nature Reserve, located between the Naftali Mountains, the Golan Heights, Lebanon and the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). Having already been to the other Hula Valley park, called Agamon Hula, I figured it would be nice to see the official national park. With my last Hula blog post being about the crane migration, as linked previously, this post will be focused more on life in the marsh year-round. We arrived at the park where I renewed my extremely cheap soldier’s year pass and set up for a little picnic looking at the wetlands.

Hula Valley observation tower

Deciding to first visit the Oforia visitors centre and then walk the trail, we sat down for a 3D video in English about the Hula Valley and the bi-annual bird migration. With all sorts of sensory additives to the video (including jabs in the back, gusts of cold air and a simulated rat in the aisles hitting everyone’s legs), the 3D film was a hit. Because we chose the English version we had to wait to see the diorama presentations of stuffed birds and mammals in the Hebrew-only section of the visitors centre.

Dragonfly

We then hit the trail and stopped almost immediately to watch the large catfish swimming beneath the bridge. Very similar to the marsh at Ein Afeq between Akko and Haifa, I already knew what to expect in the fauna department but there were a few surprises such as the white-throated kingfisher with its dazzling blue back. Within a few minutes we spotted water buffalo way out in the marsh, looking content in the cool waters.

Water buffalo

Walking along the water, watching coots, ducks, water buffalo, kingfishers, turtles, catfish and more in their natural habitat, we shortly arrived at the wooden observation tower. Up top we looked out the slit and watched the birds down below, the coots, cormorants and pelicans. I even spotted a kingfisher hover and dive into the water after its prey. Now, despite the fact that some 500 million birds make their way from Europe/Asia to Africa this time of year, we saw just a handful of migratory birds. When we visited Agamon Hula on November 23rd 2011 we saw thousands of common cranes as well as hundreds of other migratory birds. It was a bit odd seeing the marsh so empty.

Cormorants on a dead tree

Leaving the observation tower we continued on the loop trail and walked a section of bridge through some very strange marsh vegetation, or as one sister said “Dr Seuss plants”. Bright green, large, round tufted balls of plant – surely something to be seen in a Dr Seuss book.

Walking through Dr Seuss land

We then approached the floating bridge which looks out to the larger body of water in the reserve, where we watched pelicans paddle around, the neighbouring Golan in the background.

Pelicans and the Golan

From the moment we entered the covered floating bridge, I immediately thought it looked like some sort of wooden space ship corridor. If you click on this picture, a screenshot from the sci-fi classic 2001: A Space Odyssey, I think you’ll agree.

In the floating bridge

After the floating bridge we looped back round and passed many, many turtles and this nutria eating its way through the marsh. Despite being an alien species, nutrias add quite a nice visual touch to Israeli wetlands.

Nutria eating its way through the marsh

Finished with the trail we headed back and left the park, happy to spend the day in such a beautiful and photogenic place but slightly disappointed not to see the bird migration in person. Perhaps next time…

With three wineries visited and sixteen wines tasted, we continued on with our wine tour. The four of us – Joel, Les, myself and our tour guide Yakov – popped on over to Sadot Winery, nestled in Sde Ya’akov just across the road from the fascinating Bet She’arim National Park. The newest winery on our tour, this estate winery is only in its second vintage.

The picturesque vineyard at Sadot Winery

Meeting up with Ro’i, the winery owner, we started with a look at his vineyards, sampling from two grape varieties. Even though the grapes are hanging lush on the vine, Ro’i is waiting for the perfect sugar levels before he harvests. What defines his winery as an estate winery is the fact that all his wines are made with grapes grown on the estate, definitely giving us the full behind-the-scenes.

Fruit of the vine

After snacking on some grapes we headed down to his workshop and his rooms. Using a clever, yet simple, concrete structure, the winery’s various stations and the new deck is all in one spot, overlooking the vineyards, a water reservoir and the distant Mount Carmel. Ro’i showed us his latest batches, one just starting the fermentation process, kept in large temperature-controlled metal casks. Using little stepladders, Les and I poked our heads into the casks to examine the crushed grapes.

Peering into the cold cask

Moving on to the next station, Ro’i showed us the barrel room where his vintages are aging and his freshly picked grapes were waiting. And then, to the storage room where the finished bottles are waiting. With that, we headed up to the deck and made ourselves comfortable. Ro’i brought up his four wines and several bottles of cold water – the first winery to offer such a luxury.

Enjoying some Rosé

We started with the Muscat Canelli and then, after some cold water and some discussion, tried the Rosé. After more water and more discussion, Ro’i poured us some Shiraz Tempranillo. And then, finally, the Syrah. After trying the superb Syrah Reserve at Tulip Winery, I saw the potential in this younger vintage. There was that same focused feel on the middle of the tongue, just a little larger – the general consensus was that the Sadot Winery Syrah just needed a little more alone time to fully mature and pack that wonderful punch. All I know is that if I were to ever make a wine that good, I’d be singing my own praises.

Ro’i and us (photo: Yakov Feder)

Finishing up our twentieth wine of the day, we thanked Ro’i, got back into the car and had a pleasant drive back to the hotel in Tel Aviv. As we drove we discussed the wineries and the wines. Each winery stood out on their own in some way or another, and their wines were a testament of hard work and fortune here in Israel’s magnificent wine country. This wine tour has really inspired me in the field of wines and I look forward to visit more and more wineries.

With half our wine tour over and nine wines tasted, the four of us – Joel, Les, myself and our tour guide Yakov – headed over to the Tulip Winery to taste seven of their wines. We entered the visitor centre, sat down at the bar and settled in for some serious tasting. But before we tasted the wines, Lital (customer relations manager and our guide) explained to us the importance of the winery and the local village.

Tulip Winery

Kfar Tikva (Hope Village) is where this boutique winery calls home, and it is in this village where adults with special needs can become an active part of a community. A groundbreaking endeavour, this village breathed life and hope into those less fortunate and the winery was created with similar passion – producing a “wine that loves people”. Focusing on the good, Tulip Winery was founded in 2003 to bring together the love of people and the love of wine – providing opportunity for those with special needs to realise their potential.

Wine production

With this unique factor, the winery takes on a different air – an extra meaning in the increasingly popular wine production. With numerous wine types, producing 220,000 bottles annually, Tulip Winery is the embodiment of hope and success and we were honoured to sample from their vintages. The first wine we tried was the White Tulip, a blend of Gewurztraminer and Sauvignon Blanc. Next, the White Franc and then we moved over to the reds.

Lital sharing some white wine

The first of the reds was the Espero with its very appealing label. Following that was the Mostly Cabernet Franc, with a little bit of Merlot blended in. Despite that we visited after closing, Lital took the time to enjoy the wines with us and it was at this winery that I really voiced my thoughts on bouquet and taste. The strong aroma of blackberries, the hint of peach or pear – and what was that, lychee? I really had a marvelous time discussing the wines with Lital and Yaakov, with Joel and Les chiming in.

Talking with Lital

We then tasted the reserve wines, the Cabernet Sauvignon Reserve and the Syrah Reserve. I was quite impressed with the Syrah Reserve and according to the winery’s website it is considered to be one of the three best Syrahs in Israel. After being aged 18 months in French oak barrels, the flavour was rich and clean. I gave my taste note as “focused on the centre of the tongue” and there really was a difference between this and the previous reds which filled the mouth.

Tulip wines

We finished off with their flagship wine, the Black Tulip. A blend of four grapes and aged 24 to 30 months in French oak barrels, this was a superb wine. Even the modern art label had a story: an art contest with the name “Don’t Label Me!” where the winner was used for the flagship wine’s label. The actual artwork is framed and hanging on the wall in the visitor centre.

Black Tulip artwork

After tasting seven wines, we talked some more, a bottle was purchased and we headed out, thanking our wonderful guide for the wonderful experience over and over. In my words, the tasting wasn’t: “Here, what do you think?”  It was: “Here, what do we think?”. All in all, my favourite winery of the wine tour. Next: Sadot Winery

Continuing on with our wine tour, the four of us – Joel, Les, myself and our tour guide Yakov – drove over to the second stop, the Jezreel Valley Winery. Established in 2011, Jezreel Valley Winery is an Israeli start-up boutique winery, located in Kibbutz Hanaton. We entered the winery, met Ma’ayan our guide and started with a small tour of the wine-making process.

Ma’ayan explaining the machinery (photo: Yakov Feder)

Just outside the visitor centre room is the labeling and packaging station and then beyond it outside is the initial grape receiving area. We were told that on the previous day one of the grape harvests came in and the winery was abuzz in production, separating and preparing the grapes for fermentation. Growing exponentially with each year, and with the help of some new machinery, the boutique winery is on its way into becoming a real powerhouse in the boutique wine industry.

Yehuda Nahar (co-founder) at the labeler

Our next stop was the barrel room where French oak barrels filled with aging wine, stacked five-high, lined the sides. Recycling some used barrels from larger wineries for their reds – beneficial in keeping oak tastes down – we spotted some familiar names in the Jezreel Valley barrel room. Returning to the visitor centre room, we sat down to try some wines – first up, the Chardonnay. When the bottles came out, one thing that really impressed me was the design of the labels – a nice blend of rustic and modern, and a cute usage of the Hebrew punctuation on the English letters.

Jezreel Valley’s barrel room

Following up with the Rosé, my favourite from Jezreel Valley, this was a wonderfully chilled, beautifully coloured wine with strong fruit aromas and tastes. Our third and final taster, the Redblend, a blend of Carignan, Argaman and Syrah grapes. It was with this wine that I noticed something interesting. I didn’t detect this in the initial sniffing, but when just a few drops remained, a wood smell began to develop. It got stronger and stronger, which I had assumed was due to my constant swirling – “opening the wine”. When I asked Yehuda, the co-founder, he suggested it was the wine warming up, releasing the wood aroma. Whatever the answer is, this prompted me to “up my game” in reading the wines via their bouquet.

Ma’ayan pouring the Rose

Thanking Ma’ayan and Yehuda, we head out for our next stop: Tulip Winery

Last week Sunday was the Jewish holiday of Lag B’Omer, most famous for the lighting of bonfires and the annual pilgrimage to the grave of Rashbi in Meron, which becomes a bigger and bigger event every year. This year I attempted to visit Meron as soon as Shabbat ended, a relatively short drive, at the far foot of Mount Meron, but the roads were closed and we were forced to turn back. Sunday morning came and I hopped on a bus to Tzfat (Safed) to attempt a hike to Meron via Nachal Amud with some friends including Nechemya who hiked Nachal Kziv with me.

Waiting at the Saraya in Tzfat

We all met up, packed some food and water and hit the road, leaving Tzfat along the Industrial Section and entering what is known as HaAri Forest. There, in between the trees and splashed with bright blue paint, we found the grave of Brei d’Rav Safra (the son of Rav Safra) who lived sometime in the 300’s CE. Born in Babylonia, this sage moved to the Galilee and was mentioned in the Zohar, the famous book on Kabbalah associated with the aforementioned Rashbi.

Grave of Brei d’Rav Safra

An acronym for Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, Rashbi lived during the period after the destruction of the Second Temple. He and his son fled the Romans and found shelter in a cave in Peki’in (just minutes away from Ma’alot) where they were nourished by carobs and fresh spring water for thirteen years. The cave is still around today, and so are the carob trees and fresh spring, however, due to an earthquake, the cave is mostly collapsed and the spring was rerouted a little downhill.

Hiking with Mount Meron in the distance

After a little lunch we continued on, the twin peaks of Mount Meron acting as our compass as we reached the ridge above Nachal Amud. As we walked along the ridge, heading north, we looked down and saw these old ruins but we fought temptation and forged onwards.

Old ruins down below

As we walked we began speaking of caves and Nechemya tried to recall where along the side of the ridge he found a big cave on a previous hike. And so we dropped down the side of the ridge, making our way over and around huge rocks, thorn bushes and more. After a while I began to appreciate the small thorn bushes; they made great footing to step on for going downhill. Then we came across some torn up fur littered all over, from a fox or jackal.

Torn fur from a fox or jackal

And then, as we kept going downhill, we saw a tree and Nechemya announced that we should check where the tree is. We dropped further down and then lo and behold! a cave. There was a smaller cave and then a cave that we actually entered, using cellphones and a penlight to see into the gloom. Unfortunately, there was nothing really to be seen but it was cool being in an unmarked cave and it fueled our desire to find more caves.

From within the little cave

Then, looking further downhill, we spotted a stone pillar splashed with bright blue paint – another grave. We fought gravity as we made our way down safely, at last reaching the grave of Rabbi Nehunya ben HaKanah, another great sage from the time of the Second Temple. One of the forerunners of Kabbalah, even before Rashbi, several of Rabbi Nehunya’s teachings were told over to us by Nechemya and so when we stumbled upon his very grave it was an amazing moment, encapsulating two thousand years of history.

Pillar marking the grave of Rabbi Nehunya ben HaKanah

After some time spent at the grave we continued on down, heading for Nachal Amud. Climbing down an ancient stone wall running alongside the stream, we spent some time at the stream – each doing their own thing. I tried something new with my camera; the “soft water” look of a tiny waterfall:

”Soft water”

Then we found an orange tree, with ripe oranges dangling up high, but with the aid of a stick I enjoyed a fresh, organic orange plucked from nature. Then we resolved to continue our way towards Meron, this time walking along the stream.

Nachal Amud

But then we came across another distraction, what looked like a Crusader-era inn or something. We crossed the stream, much deeper now, on a fallen log and entered the ruins, looking around.

Ruins across the stream

Up on the ruins’ roof, where grass had taken over, we admitted that we would never reach Meron before dark and the hike to Meron after dark would be too difficult. In efforts to salvage Lag B’Omer, my friends began a small fire and we watched the sky grow dark.

Impromptu bonfire

Some two hours later we extinguished the fire and resolved to make our way out of Nachal Amud, via the stream trail and then out towards the main road. And so we set off, using a light or two to guide us. I don’t recall ever doing such a night hike so it was definitely interesting, but I was a little nervous of running into wild boars. Even the jackals and wolves that come out of their hiding places at dusk to roam the land didn’t bother us as much as the thoughts of the wild boars. We found the trail and then came across some buildings – a series of Crusader-era mills, if I’m not mistaken.

A section of wall in the darkness of night

At this point I left my camera alone and grasped a penlight instead, aiding me in my attempt at sure-footing my way out of the wilderness. We left Nachal Amud and began to climb up the elevation of Nachal Sechvi, a dry streambed filled with huge white rocks. At one point we stopped and laid down on a huge flat table-top stone, relaxing. I suggested that we keep completely silent for a few minutes and that suggestion paid off. The chirps of the bats overhead, the rustling of the leaves to my right, the yelping of a jackal behind further upstream and then the frighteningly close grunting/panting to the left. It was then that Nechemya decided we should announce our presence. Continuing on upsteam, another funny thing happened: Nechemya, who was running point, whispered for us to stop and told us that there was something big up ahead. Confused and nervous, we grasped our sticks and proceeded cautiously but with making threatening noises. As we got close we saw that it was a tent and the poor inhabitants were probably more scared than we were. So, as we passed, I whispered “sorry guys, good night” hoping to help. At last, after a nice long uphill hike in the dark, we reached the road. We watched as convoys of police and buses passed by rapidly, nobody stopping for three sweaty hikers carrying big sticks at the side of the road in middle of the night. So we walked, and eventually made it back to Tzfat where we enjoyed pizza and beer before crashing. What an adventure…

On the first day of Chol HaMoed Pesach we took a family trip to Ein Afeq, a nature reserve near the Krayot just north of Haifa. As the hill section of the park is called Tel Afeq, it is often confused with the other Tel Afeq which is in the centre of the country, near Rosh HaAyin. This reserve, Ein Afeq, contains the remains of ancient waterworks (dams, walls and mills) and city ruins which date back to settlement thousands of years ago. That clarified, we drove over to Ein Afeq and began our walk through the park, slightly dismayed at the large crowds.

Recordane, the Crusader fortress

Starting with the springs, of which there are thirty or so, we immediately caught sight of the Crusader fortress and mill. Built in the mid 1150’s, the fortress of Recordane, together with its flour mills, were acquired by the Hospitallers, a Crusader Military Order. This very fortress was used as a Christian base when fighting Saladin, the powerful sultan of the Ayyubid Empire who defeated the Crusaders in 1187.

Interesting little fortress door

Later, in 1228, King Frederick II of Germany (one of the most powerful Christians to partake in the Crusades) used Recordane as a headquarters whilst negotiating a truce with the Ayyubid sultan Al-Kamil, effectively ending the Sixth Crusade. Even within the ranks of the Crusaders, Recordane and its mills were hotly contested between the military orders and, after intervention by the pope and a treaty signed at Akko in 1262, the Hospitallers built another fortress with mills nearby, of which just stone foundations remain. To this day the records are murky, no one knows precisely which mills and fortresses at Ein Afeq were owned by the Templars.

Fortress detail

The mills of Recordane themselves, powered by the stream, were sporadically operating up until 1925. Initially the lead supplier of flour for Akko, the regional Crusader capital, the mills were destroyed by the Mamlukes in the 1300’s following the Crusaders final defeat and banishment from the Levant. Rebuilt by the Ottomans, these very mills were instrumental in providing the Turkish troops with flour during WWI. When the British took control of the region, they used the waterworks to direct water to new oil refineries. Due to Arab rioting in the late 1930’s, the British built a guard post atop the fortress and from the rooftop beside the concrete post I took this photo of the waterworks below:

Looking down at the waterworks

Leaving the fortress we began the walk around the reserve, exploring the wetlands and the animals that call it home. The first we came across was a nutria (also known as a coypu), an alien species from South America valued for its fur. It seemed very accustomed to humans and allowed me to get real close, just look at those evil hazel eyes glinting in the sun as it eats the marsh vegetation:

Eyeing the nutria

We then reached the far north side of the reserve’s trails and I spotted water buffalo resting under a tree, escaping the midday sun. Seeing the nutria and the water buffalo instantly reminded me of our trip to the Hula Valley to watch the bi-annual crane migration.

Water buffalo resting under a tree

In some of the ponds on the reserve, large numbers of African sharptooth catfish frenzied at the murky water’s surface, eager for a quick snack from the human visitors. Here are two somewhat frightening facts about these fish: one, they can reach a maximum length of 1.7 metres (5 feet 7 inches) weighing up to 60 kilograms (130 pounds) and two, they can crawl on dry land to find a new watery home. Lock your doors, people!

Hungry catfish

Along with the nutrias, water buffalo and catfish, there lives brilliantly-coloured damselflies:

A damselfly

We reached the floating bridge and began to walk over the Great Lake (not such a “great” lake for one who grew up in Michigan).

The floating bridge over the Great Lake

This section I particularly enjoyed; the winding wooden platform, the periodic rushes and reeds, the dark shapes in the water materialising as catfish, tilapia and Caspian turtles.

A Caspian turtle spying on me

With our feet back on dry land, we returned to the entrance, passing the beautiful, placid Moorhen Pool and the concrete British Mandate pumping station.

The Moorhen Pool

Joining the myriads of visitors, we sat down at the picnic area and bought some popsicles from the onsite vendor. After a little rest, under the shade of trees, we headed back to the car. Not wanting to regret anything, I made a last minute decision to quickly climb Tel Afeq to see if there was anything to see. I did just that and all I saw was a butterfly and the view from the hilltop, none of the thousands of years of history; Canaanite, Israelite, Hellenistic, Roman and Crusader.