We soon find out that this is an old Israeli military outpost. There are still a couple of soldiers here camped out in tents, but you get the feeling it is not as "active" as it once was. It is true. This outpost was one of many with bunkers during Israel's many fights for their existence. Old machine gun mounts line the trail to the top. Looking over the side, there is still rusting barbed wire clinging to steel posts in the underbrush.
At the bottom of the valley below I count, one, two, three burned out hulks of Russian T-55 tanks busted by Israeli rockets.
It's hard to believe a hot war once raged where we are walking. In contrast the the detritus of war are serene, pastoral scenes of little farms and vineyards in the valleys below.
We walk up and down the trenches of the bunkers trying to imagine what it might feel like to be ducking real mortar fire and artillery barrages.
The view from the top of the bunker is amazing. Clearly in the distance, 60 kilometers away is the city of Damascus on the flat plain of Syria.
Makes me wonder if Paul might have been struck down from his donkey in a place like this when he met the Lord. Not quite what I imagined but this is reality.
We are as far north in Israel as you can possibly go. Literally one step over the side of this high ridge and you are in Syria. This is a place of high tension. This location is not always open for tourists like us to walk around.
In kind of a weird contrast to the theme of war and conflict in this place, there is of all things a large building with large picture windows all around.
It is a neat espresso shop much like you might find in the USA. It has a "Starbucks" vibe. There are not many of these kinds of shops in the places we have visited so it is kind of strange to find one in such a remote and isolated spot. Maybe the two soldiers stationed here drink a lot of espresso. Most of the 160 people in our group crowd the inside of this shop out of the wind, waiting for their chosen fix of coffee. I decline.
The seriousness of the problems of this part of the world really impact me at this point. It's not just news stories about other places and other people. It is real, it is here. This is the first time I have felt this tension since being in Israel but it will not be the last time. Up here in the northern part of Israel the competing factions of cultures are more separated for the most part and the Israelis are in the majority for sure. So it is more peaceful and calm feeling, different from the every day tension we will feel as we move toward Jerusalem.
Someone has tried to lighten the mood here by creating odd, whimsical characters out of the rusting bits of war machinery laying about. They are welded together and stuck into the ground along the path to the bunker. Artistic I suppose.
Finally we are urged to our buses. I think jet lag is still nagging me. I am tired. Maybe it was the terrific wind that pummeled us all day or the stairs we ascended and the uphill terrain. Maybe it was taking pictures of all those rocks. I don't know. I doze in the back seat of the bus as we almost silently glide down the mountain highway to the Sea of Galilee. On the way we ponder the terraced hillsides we have observed all over Israel. It must have taken generations of shepherds to construct these terraces. All stone, all laid by hand. There is no shortage of building material. The northern region of Israel seems like it is all made of rocks. The land of Israel amazes.
We are back to our hotel, the Tiberias Caesar a little earlier than anticipated. We go up to our room and change our clothes out to something fresh and go down to the streets and water front.
On one end of the water front we are invited in to taste the fine seafood cuisine by the restaurant's owner. No, really, we must come in and have a fine dinner. We decline. No, really, we must come in. We decline. No, you will taste no better food anywhere than what is available here. You must come in. We decline a little more strongly. Tell you what, you go get all your friends and bring them here, we will have a feast you will never forget. You must eat here. We don't commit but walk off a little more determined to put space between us. Maybe we should have eaten there. The hotel we are staying at does put on a really good feed and we have already paid for that. Our conservative nature wins out.
We wander down one of the main streets near our hotel.
We pass many street side vendors. Rams horns - in the $200-$300 range (much more than I was expecting), the deep fried scent of falafala boiling away wafts through the air. Racks of dresses blow in the gentle breeze. Scooters buzz by like so many bees heading who knows where. Lots of people walking about. It feels fun, a relaxing way to end the day as we converse about all we have seen and done. Exploring Dan seems like so long ago.
We cross the street and walk uphill a block and turn in the direction of our hotel. More of the same with little restaurants and young people walking by. Most people are dressed up for what I would expect at a shoreline area. Not many cargo shorts and flip flops but slacks, dress shoes and button shirts.
It's getting close to dinner time. We turn down hill to the nearest street to our hotel. A feast awaits. We take more modest amounts of food as we have tried most of the offerings by now. We eat to the point of satisfaction and are content.
The sun descends on the Golan Heights above the Sea of Galilee. It is beautiful. I linger on the little balcony in our room.
It is dark, the lights of the city bounce off the hills behind the city. The warm air is breezy around me. I am certain that if I were to live in Israel it would be here. And maybe I would go try that man's restaurant.
We have heard rumors that tomorrow holds a special "surprise". We wonder what this could be. Grateful for clean sheets and a decent mattress, we quickly descend into a deep sleep on the shores of the Sea of Galilee.
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