Nimrod

I woke early on a beautiful morning which indicated a scorching day and followed my instructions to go to the dining hall between 7.30 and 9.00. At 7.30 it was all locked up but food was laid out so I sat around for 10 minutes enjoying the fresh air. Then the planner in me took over and I realised that I could be packing my kit and went back to my house to do it. I returned at 8.02 and saw that I had made a disasterous mistake- there was about a hundred young teenagers milling around the door. I know kids this age are no respecters of queuing so I wangled my way through them towards the middle, the front being a step too far. I was shocked to see that their group leaders were armed. Some with rusty semis, others with gleaming nickel plated pieces. Most of them didn't look the type who could use them but to an Englishman it's a very alien sight. When the doors were finally opened and the swarming masses hit the buffet all became apparent and I not only understood why they were armed but I seriously doubted whether their firepower was anywhere near sufficient to control the mob. After an unexciting breakfast I went to leave, meeting a man on a quad with a trailer full of laundry, he chatted for about 3 minutes and at the end I said 'ken' and he waited for me to go and get my sheets- I can speak Hebrew- cool! Nimrod Castle-a phonecall the night before to Dan (I checked in most nights for top tips and he was brilliant) gave me a plan to drive past the castle and into the next valley where I would walk down a gorge and then up a steep hill to the castle- rather than driving into the car park. At the start of this route was a war cemetery to mark the fighting between Syria and Israel in the 6 day war. In the 70's this whole area had been in Syria until one day they decided to roll some artillery pieces down the hill where the Field School was. They began shelling nearby Isreali towns and settlements until the Isreali army pitched up and after some tough fighting kicked them off the hill and pushed the border back several miles.
The most interesting thing about the small clumps of rock gravestones amongst the rocks and long grass was the sow wild boar with their stripey piglets charging through the undergrowth.
After about 20 minutes I retraced my steps to the start of the gorge walk. To my horror another party of school kids were just heading down into the gorge- and their escorts had assault rifles. This must be a serious bunch of kids if such measures were needed. As invariably happens a few stopped and I found myself in the middle of the group. For ages nobody acknowledged me then a woman turned round and said 'are you English?' This surprised me a bit- although it is usually English, American or German (I sometimes have some fun and reply to that in German) I congratulated her on her accuracy. I then heard a murmer go along the line that the tall bloke was English- easily discernable in Hebrew which brought an uncomfortable smile from the lady who spoke. She offered me to move through the group who were taking an eternity to pick their way through every obstacle, and there were many but it was too dodgy at that point so I walked in the group for another half hour. Eventually they stopped and I was able to make some progress. By now the heat was fierce and the stench of a rotting wild boar carcass in the stream was overwhelming. My knees complained with every jolt but rock hopping across the boulders and over the pools was something my body was made for and I love doing it, every landing on the edge of disaster but timed perfectly to spring into the next leap.
After about an hour I was heading up the steep and craggy hill to the castle, soaked in sweat with the hot heavy air causing every breath to labour. The track brought me out by the gate to the castle grounds where a crusty old man looking just like Antony Quinn got arsey with me becasue I didn't have change and offered him what was the equivalent of a fiver for the three fifty charge. A quick study of the map showed a walking route to the castle up an even steeper hill for which one was supposed to obtain a guide- yeah right! I scrambled up, getting an appreciation of why they built the castle here in the first place. Finally entering through a hole in the base of a tower i spent a very enjoyable 2 hours exploring the ruins, learning about their history and some of the fantastic architectural features- such as the cisterns to preserve water from the rains. As I wandered down the road to Tony Quinn's gate I herad the school kids thrashing through the bushes behind, they had doen well considering the heat. I now faced a long walk along the road up a steep hill back to the car while their bus was brought round to the car park- good plan I thought.
By the time I got back to the car a long drink and a chill was in order but the car's complementary aircon was more attractive so I set off South for another attempt at visiting Zefat. En route I passed through several villages of Druze comunities. Druze are a small closed religion who venerate Abraham's father in law- or something like that. Anyway, curious as to what it was all about I spotted a guy hitch hiking in one of the villages and gave him a lift. What a brillaint idea it was too, Joe was a psychology student at the hospital in Zefat and gave me a massive insight into the area as we drove. It was interesting to hear that Druze were actually pleased to have gone from being in Syria one day to being in Israel the next, simliy because of the job opportunities which arose. I dropped him off at the hospital and exchanged numbers should I ever need his help- how nice. I wander ound Zefat was short due to sieata time and after stocking up on food I blatted South and the Sea of Galillee. The main town on the banks is Tiberius and I planned to spend the night there. The tourist information was not sign posted as usual but I had a question to ask in the car hire office and since the woman therein was widly excentic I took the opportiunity to ask here, Following her expilicit instructions I found the TIC, complete with opening hours which I was well within. However, the place was well locked and in darkness. Improvising as best I could I cahtted to theway too flashy lady attendant of the nearby public toilets who, having charged me to spend a penny gave directions to the nearest hostel FOC. The route took me past the shittiest hostel on the planet which I was relieved to avoid, only to find I was entering the second shittiest. I was totally knackered by the day's exertions and would have slept anywhere so the doss house I climbed the steps of was a choice I should have thought more about.I quickly secured safe parking for the car from Anthony Quinn's older brother and after a shower and change went for some food. I picked the restaurant because it had wicker seats rather than plastic patio furniture and no greasy blokes in tight black T shirts standing around outside with nothing to do but gob off in front of their mates- what exactly are they about? The meal was leisurely except for the effort required to separate my fish's meat from it's infinite number of small bones. In the end I gave up- will I never learn. I did see an old guy rummaging through the litter bins for plastic bottles which he collected in a bag marked 'Saga Tours'- is that offered as an optional extra then?
Back at the hostel I had 3 beds to choose from, the one with shit (honestly) on the sheets was definitely out so it was a choice between the brown map of Africa or the pubes- thank God for my silk sleeping bag liner.I slept well.