From Sea to Sea, Hiking Across Israel

JERUSALEM, May 16, 2008 — -- One of the most famous hikes in Israel, "Sea to Sea," is a four-day trek from the Mediterranean Sea to the Sea of Galilee.

For a group of 40 American college students studying at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem for the semester, the 31-mile hike would prove to be a classroom of another kind.

The trip leader reminded us that even though it appears safe in Israel, it is important to be cautious.

"Don't pick up anything from the ground," she said. "Be careful of things — like land mines."

The trip began on the western coast of Israel near Nahariya, as we hiked through Goren Park and the surrounding area.

From the top of the steep Nachal Kziv trail, we could see an example of the contrast between ancient and modern Israel.

Across the valley was Monfort Fortress, ruins of a fortress built by Templar knights and conquered in the 12th century by Crusaders. Just behind it was Mitzpe Hila, home to Gilad Shalit, the captured soldier held hostage since 2006 by the Islamist group Hezbollah.

The second day was to be our most challenging, as we would scale Mount Meron, the tallest mountain within Israel's internationally recognized borders, standing at 3,955 feet. Only Mount Hermon in the Golan Heights is taller.

It is standard protocol in Israel to have at least two armed guards and medics escort a group of Americans on trips, and, in this particular case, to help us make tea.

Every rest stop, the guards helped us brew tea with fresh sage, mint and brown sugar. Another batch was made with fresh za'atar, a Middle Eastern spice similar to thyme.

During one break, a convoy of identical cars suddenly surrounded us. A large group of senior citizens emerged slowly from the vehicles, wearing mismatched hiking clothes and stiff white visors.

"My husband and his friends were in a youth group together," one woman with a walking aid said in Hebrew, "Everyone here is over 70 years old. Every two weeks, they reunite and we hike in different parts of Israel."

We passed several of these groups along our hike. We admired the efforts of a line of elderly women scaling a hill with canes, even as their younger guide, equipped with a megaphone, broadcast to them and the rest of the trail that they were wandering the wrong way.

Hours later, we reached the summit, overlooking Lebanon in the distance and many forests and valleys.

During the Second Lebanon War in 2006, katyusha rockets destroyed some of these forests.

We were able to see the exact delineation of Israel's border with Lebanon. The political "green line" was also physically green because Israel's side was covered in newly planted trees.

Coming down the mountain, we were told about the mystical nature of the forest around us. Historians claim that Rabbi Shimon Bar Yochai, author of the Jewish religious text the Zohar, is buried in the area.

Jews are not the only ones who believe this forest is spiritual.

Throughout the forest, there were people pressing themselves to the trees and singing. Called the "Religion of the Great Spirit," the neo-pagan faith borrows practices from Native American religions, and followers regard trees as holy.

On my 3 a.m. guard shift for the campsite, I could still hear the ecstatic singing of the people worshipping the trees.

We needed to reach the halfway point of Nachal Amud by the end of the third day, a trail that wound around steep mountains. Our guide told us that Mark Twain said the trail was the worst part of Israel, which is saying something because his observations of the area were generally not favorable.

The ensuing two hours would be the worst nightmare for anyone afraid of heights. The "trail" was a series of large stones we had to climb along the sides of cliffs, overlooking deep gorges and wild flowers.

Blinded by sweat, some of the beauty was lost on me — but if the Bible had illustrations, they would look like this part of the trail.

It felt like I was hiking on my stove top as we continued along Nachal Amud on the fourth day.

I was thankful that my religious practices allow for mesh shorts when I looked down at a lower plateau and saw a group of orthodox Jewish girls. In the 104-degree heat, they were hiking in long skirts and sleeves that covered their elbows.

At the end of the trail, I saw the open expanse of the gray water from the Sea of Galilee before me.

I had hiked across a country.