It’s a Small World

It was after today that our group started asking before each outing, “have you been there before?” It was a valid concern.

We had heard of Horkanya, but never been there. It’s the ruins of one of Herod the Great’s palaces out in the desert not too far from Abu Dis. The site is completely undeveloped, but there’s a hiking trail leading to it and you can explore the ruins, look at abandoned mosaic floors and imagine the great palace it must have been. We all had a great time poking around, and the real stress didn’t start till we left.

We had also heard there was a road leading from Horkanya to our next destination, Mura’abat Cave. Wonderful! Should save a lot of time, since it was only 9 miles long and the road around was more than triple that. The big Proace headed out with tail wagging and for a half mile or so we oohed and aaahed over the herds of camels, goats and sheep, the swarthy herders on their mules and the majestic desert mountains. And then we arrived at a valley, where the road went steeply down and even more steeply up, and was deeply rutted by dry stream beds from former downpours. We all hopped out to assess, and it didn’t look too good. Nobody listened to my thin voice crying in the wilderness “no, flat no. We cannot do this”. There, that’s as close to “I told you so” as I’m gonna get. The problem is, I shout that a lot, and it’s totally worth ignoring.

The majority deemed the road passable, and promised to push the van if it faltered on the slope. It did need help, and I shut my mouth and pushed with the best of them. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. We gave happy cheers when we summited and all hopped back in feeling victorious.

That feeling didn’t last very long. Minutes later we got to another hairy spot, and then another, and another. As the general direction of the drive was down towards the Dead Sea, we had gravity in our favor. We hadn’t gone very far before we realized that turning around wasn’t really an option. You can slowly drive down a set of rock steps, but you can’t drive back up.

It was horrible. For three solid hours we bumped, prayed, built roads and nervously laughed through the wilderness. Herders, perched on their horses, would stand like sentry’s on the hills, staring in shocked amazement at our white bus. Sometimes I would see them ride after us, but they always turned around. I’m sure they wanted to warn us, but probably knew that it was pointless, for where could they tell us to go instead?

Here is a small activity for you. The first picture is a Proace, almost like ours. The second, third and fourth images are the road. In your mind, remove the Jeep from the images and replace it with the van.

Fun, huh?!

We did actually have a bit of fun for the first 2 hours. The scenery was marvelous, it was a challenge, and we thought it would soon get better. Die hard optimism and all that.

Then we came to the Long Descent. We parked at the top, our hearts in our boots, and our throats, simultaneously. Heath had a brittle look about him, almost like he would die if you poked him. How he hated that, bouncing a rental van over such roads. But the crowning moment was when we saw, winding up from the valley floor, a fleet of Jeeps. Our joyous cries of “civilization!” died on our lips as we watched them traverse what we shortly must conquer. It was ugly. Tricky enough that they would get out and video each other going through the bad spots and congratulate themselves when they were through.

I was dancing around on the road, suddenly mortified to be caught out there by the true jeep crowd. What complete donkeys we must look! It was like driving a moped and being passed by a Harley. I know, cause that has happened to me. But then I started to feel guilty. What a sudden let down that would be, to feel all macho and clever, only to top the rise and see a Hertz rental van patiently waiting till you got out of the road. You would never feel the same about your jeeping abilities again. So sad.

The terrors just didn’t stop. Those challenges were like the widows oil. Just when you conquered one, you’d summit another small hill and see yet another before you. When even the most stoic among us was flagging, we finally, finally crossed the last bad hill, and drove through the last riverbed, before the road settled down to just your average bad road.

The van trembled to a stop and we all did some deep breathing and thankful praying. For some reason the sliding door didn’t want to open, nor the front passenger door. I guess the rocks were harder on the rocker panels than we had realized, and things were a little bent. The guys found some tools and pretty soon the desert rang with the sound of metal being bent back into shape.

We drank and ate a little, and shook our heads. Looking up we suddenly saw a camel coming elegantly down the road, followed by his owner who was flourishing a very small pine bough. Not sure how effective that would be for camel discipline?! The camel gave us a disdainful look and strolled on, but somehow that really raised our spirits. We had made it, yes, by a miracle, and the world was a beautiful place! Israel was waiting, and we would go!