Travel Biography - Week 127

Looking Back at my 1993 visit to En Gedi.

Someone once told me, You're a man of Israel, after returning to Isfya from a day trip to Acre, on the Mediterranean coast north of Haifa and 18.8 km or 11 miles south of the Lebanese border. That was in 1994. How I was defined as a man of Israel was down to personal opinion. Maybe I became more deserving of the title six years later when I took a bus journey to Eilat from Jerusalem. Until then, the most southern location I ever visited in the Middle East was the Palestinian town of Hebron. Then, having travelled far south to Eilat, the total distance between Acre and Eilat is 372 kilometres or 230 miles as the crow flies. Perhaps I can claim the title of a man of Israel!

Eilat wasn't the only place we visited south of Jerusalem. On another day, we took another bus to En Gedi on the west bank of the Dead Sea. Fortunately, in 2000, this saltwater lake was at a higher level than it is today (2024). But unlike in 1976, 1993, and 1994, this time we didn't swim, or should I say float, on the syrupy water of the Dead Sea. Instead, we went inland to explore the desert environment of En Gedi.

The day passed off well. That is, except for the moment when I hit an area just above my forehead hard against a solid, unyielding rocky surface. This happened while I was climbing out just after we were bathing at the shallow pool fronting one of several waterfalls. Fortunately, although the impact was rather intense, there was no bone fracture nor was there any bleeding, or else I would have been escorted to a hospital, even for a minor procedure of having the wound stitched.

That morning, we arrived at a bus stop in the middle of a desert. From there, we walked to the Reservation entrance gate where we had to pay to get in. We then did some hiking, mainly along Nahal David (the Stream of David). The trail ran alongside the stream which flows towards the Dead Sea through a steep valley.

We arrive at En Gedi.

A pair of Ibax.

Alex by the Stream of David (Nahal David)

In Nahal David Canyon.

The name En Gedi sometimes referred to as Ein Gedi means Spring of the Kid, that is, a young goat or ibex. In keeping with its name, we did see a couple of ibex grazing nearby as we hiked along. There are two main streams or creeks about a mile apart, the Nahal Arugot and Nahal David. Each of the two creeks cuts through a canyon, the two valleys running roughly parallel to each other, forming the largest desert oasis in Israel. Further upstream along Nahal David is a shallow rock pool, and in 2000, it was accessible for a cool dip. It was fed by a waterfall. Above the water on one side, a natural recess consisting of a level floor and a low ceiling provides shade from the warm sunshine, and it was here where I bumped my head on the ceiling. At least the pain didn't linger for too long.

In 1993, I was by myself when I spent a day at En Gedi Oasis. Although I was aware of the rock pool at Nahal David, I didn't swim back then as I arrived unprepared, that is, without a change of clothing. Instead, I hiked along Nahal David and followed the trail as it switchbacked up a canyon wall to a level plateau separating the two streams. After a few hundred metres, I arrived at the ancient ruin of a Chalcolithic shrine, dating back to 3,500 BC, according to archaeologists (for further reading and accompanying photos, it's Week 51. The link is at the foot of this blog post.) In 2000, we didn't exert ourselves too much. But unlike at the Sea of Galilee and the Gulf of Aqaba, at En Gedi, I was happy for my pregnant beloved wife a dip in the freshwater rock pool.

In the Bible, the story goes that after the young David, a descendant of Jacob (renamed Israel) through one of his sons, Judah, had killed Goliath, he had to flee from the wrath of King Saul, whose jealousy was aroused by David's success on the battlefield. David fled to En Gedi with his men and hid in one of the caves there to stay safe.

Our Visit to En Gedi Desert Oasis.

One of several Nahal David Waterfalls.

A cool, refreshing dip.

Alex enjoys the waterfall cascading on her.

When we first arrived.

That morning, after a long walk through Jaffa Street, we arrived at the Egged Bus Station and boarded a bus bound for Masada. Like the journey to Eilat, this service stops at En Gedi but unlike to Eilat, this one was not as a refreshment stop but a normal request stop. Once alighted, the bus pulled out to continue southwards, and we were left alone to take care of ourselves.

The road was Route 90 which begins in Metula, an Israeli border town with Lebanon, and runs southwards to Eilat. From Jerusalem, Route 1 runs eastwards, plunging below sea level as it enters the west side of the Rift Valley, to join Route 90 at the northern end of the Dead Sea, and also close to the border with Jordan. From Jerusalem, buses for Eilat, Masada, and En Gedi use Routes 1 and 90 respectively. Our bus journey to En Gedi took up to ninety minutes to cover a distance of 84 km or 52 miles.

After we had alighted, looking south, we saw that the Dead Sea was to our left, and the oasis was to our right. Towards the east and across the Dead Sea, the continuous range of Jordanian mountains testifies to the Rift Valley, as it does at Galilee and Eilat alike. We then made our way to the main entrance and paid the fee. After passing through a car park, we found a trailhead that was to run alongside Nahal David.

Although I tend to use the word hike a lot in this Biography, it wasn't any longer than a kilometre or so before we arrived at the rock pool. As we walked along, we passed a couple of ibex grazing. As for the coming swim at the rock pool, I was already prepared this time, and so was Alex. We found what looked like a recess in one of the cliffs surrounding the pool, and here we stripped off our day clothes (just the shirt and footwear for us) to reveal our swimwear. The quarry-like recess had a low ceiling, and I was mindful not to bump my head on it! At first, the water, less than a metre deep, was crystal clear and its coolness refreshed us from the warm sunshine. Not that it was that hot - after all, it was October. But autumn in Israel was as warm as a clear July day in Britain. 

Alex enjoyed standing under the waterfall that fed the pool. We had the pool to ourselves at first, until several families arrived to join us. It was then that the water turned cloudier as we all splashed about. In a sense, I felt like a child again, splashing in a shallow pool without a care in the world. It was quite a contrast to the snorkel swim at Coral Beach, where I examined the corals with a degree of seriousness and took underwater photos.

Standing by another Nahal David Waterfall.

Alex by the Creek, En Gedi Oasis.

With a slight headache, I relax by the stream.

The En Gedi Waterfall

When we had enough, I made my way to the natural recess in the limestone cliff. As I suddenly sat up, my head hit the ceiling, making quite a loud noise. I fell and rested on my back as if unconscious. But I remained conscious as I lay there. Strangely enough, the pain wasn't that intense but more of a dull ache. Rather, I was suffering from shock, and I felt my energy draining away, and I just lay there, inert as Alex tended to me. Almost immediately, a female officer, dressed in a military uniform, suddenly appeared from deep within the recess, as if she had suddenly materialised. That was when I realised that the facility was staffed, even when the whole site looked deserted and no one else could be seen.

The officer examined me and asked me questions. She allowed me to keep resting, and I cannot recall her phoning for an ambulance. She was right. I wasn't bleeding, there was no evidence of a fracture, and I was more shocked than in pain. She allowed me to rest on site until I was well enough to rise up and move on.

When I felt right enough to get up, we both left the recess with special care until we stood by the pool. We then followed the trail further inland from the Dead Sea. Soon we came to another waterfall. This one was greater in height than the last one we saw but had no pool. I remember this waterfall. In 1993, I stood under it, fully clothed and allowed a drenching, knowing that the hot summer sunshine would dry me out after a short time.

I knew this as the En Gedi Waterfall and being further upstream, could be the source of the Nahal David. There is apparently a cave entrance behind the waterfall, if so, this could be nicknamed, the Window Waterfall. Could this be the cave where the young David hid with his men from King Saul? To be honest, I couldn't tell, as there were no information signs throwing light on the matter, as found at most sites of special interest.

Yet the whole area was dramatically spectacular. It's an oasis, fed by two streams cascading down the western face of the Rift Valley from its springs to the Dead Sea. The walls of the canyon in which the stream or creek flows are steep, and from the streams, wildlife flourishes, including the ibex from which the oasis is named, along with various species of birds. Lush vegetation also thrives here, providing an ideal habitat for wildlife.

Desert and City Bus Stop Contrasts.

Us at En Gedi.

The contrast couldn't be more different between the lush, well-watered vegetation, wildlife and visitors and the location of the bus stop for the journey back to Jerusalem. The bus stop was an isolated structure surrounded by barren desert, even if the west coast of the Dead Sea wasn't far away. As the evening was beginning to draw in, it felt as if we were the only two people left on this planet. Even the main road, Route 90, was sparse in traffic, with an occasional passing car indicating that we weren't that alone. I grew up in a world where bus stops either stand on a residential estate or on a busy street backed by shops and offices among a bustling crowd of pedestrians, dog walkers, and pram pushers, and the road congested by standing traffic with a horn or two beeping, the delayed bus finally arrives as it crawls slowly among the traffic. Not to mention the miserable weather.

But not at En Gedi. Here, the sheer isolation, the desert environment, the quiet road, and the utter silence of the Rift Valley under a clear sky as the sun began to set had made me wonder how it could be possible for buses to ply here. On arrival, I carefully studied the bus times and we made sure that we allowed plenty of time for the bus to arrive. This resulted in a fairly long wait, perhaps fifteen minutes.

The bus finally arrives from the left of us and slows down as we are seen by the driver. We boarded, leaving behind the bus stop standing alone and isolated in the desert.

Back at the hostel, Alex began to prepare dinner.

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For further reading of my 1993 visit to En Gedi, click here.

Next Week: Tel Aviv, and the Flight Home.