Reports From The Road

An Uplifting Shabbat - Sunday, May 3, 2009

Another 60 miles successfully traversed, we are enjoying the hospitality of Kibbutz Ketura, home of the Arava Institute.  Today was not as difficult as some of the other days so far because many of the miles were downhill.  Although I don’t particularly enjoy downhills, strangely enough, so those were stressful for me.  But the rest of the ride was relatively flat, with only a couple of short climbs.  Today was the most desolate ride, with nothing but desert for miles and miles.  And yet the desert is far from monochromatic.  It is a vast collection of tans, browns, off-whites and whites, dull greens and ochres. 

Yesterday was a very restful day, one of doing virtually nothing.  Well, nothing and eating, really. The Ramon Inn, where we spent Shabbat, is particularly noted for its excellent food, and it was difficult not to overindulge.   In fact, that has been the situation at every place we’ve been. The Israeli breakfast is renowned for its plenty.  And during the time on the bike, we haven’t gone more than an hour and a half without stopping to eat, drink and refresh.  One thing about this ride- they do feed us a lot!

Before I go into more about today, I do want to reflect a little more about yesterday, particularly Havdalah.  As a group, we walked to the edge of the Makhtesh Ramon, a geological wonder that is not quite a crater and not quite a canyon.  It is quite simply one of the most incredible sights one could ever see, 2000 feet deep, 25 miles long and 2-10 miles wide.  Looking out over the Makhtesh literally takes one’s breath away as one considers its enormity (not to mention the vertigo). 

Before we began Havdalah, we were asked to break into small groups to talk about what we had experienced over the week, what we had accomplished, or whatever we wanted to share.  I shared why I am here.  It began when Greg Sterling rode two years ago, and I thought, yeah, that sounds really cool.  Especially because the Arava Institute is doing such amazing work, not only in the environmental arena, but also in creating opportunities for fellowship and dialogue among Jews and Arabs.  In fact, it is fairly unique.  When the Gaza war broke out this past December, this may have been the only place in the entire Middle East where Jews and Arabs were arguing with each other, expressing their feelings, and ultimately coming together.  Would that the rest of the world could follow their lead. 

I also had personal motivation for doing the ride, an impetus that crosses into my professional and family life as well.  For the first time in my adult life, I have had a goal to set and to reach for my own betterment.  Training for the ride over the last several months has made me push myself physically and mentally, and while I’m still getting into good shape, I have certainly improved.  I also wanted to be able to conquer the hills, both uphill and downhill.  Unfortunately, I’m not where I need to be yet going down due to my fear of heights, but I’ve made it up all the hills (and those who went on the December trip can vouch for the steepness of some of them!).  And I know that someday I’ll fly down the hills again with reckless abandon. 

Another incredibly positive experience has been getting to know some of my fellow riders.  As I mentioned on Wednesday, we have the opportunity to pull up next each other and schmooze.  It really makes the time pass a lot quicker.  Plus, we learn each other’s stories.  At Havdalah last night, a few people shared their stories.  Andy from White Plains lost his mother a week before the ride, but came anyway as a way of honoring her memory.  Andrew from Brooklyn shared his incredibly tragic, heart-rending story of losing his wife and unborn son when she suffered a sudden death on his birthday.  Most of us were in tears as he talked about how he had set out on the ride to find solace in the solitude of the desert, but that he had in the end also found comfort in a community of riders.  And Josh, 12 years old and about to celebrate his Bar Mitzvah, told us that he had set a new speed record (since broken), but don’t tell his mom!

This morning we left early, as usual, to get on the road before the weather became too hot.  We’ve actually had very good luck with the weather- this afternoon was the first time it started to really feel like desert heat.  Tomorrow promises to be a hot one though, so it’s a good thing it’s a short ride albeit very hilly.  Before we set out, we gathered on the edge of the Makhtesh for Shacharit.  Davening in such a venue is very different from davening in the chapel, for example.  Especially when we read the part about how awesome creation is, and creation sprawls out in front of us.

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Challenge of the Desert - Friday, May 1, 2009

Today was a hard day.  After yesterday’s 73 miles, we followed up with 43 miles, including a couple of pretty hard climbs.  The day started in Mashabei Sade, from where we set out for Sde Boker, 14 miles away.  Sde Boker is the place where David Ben Gurion is buried, and the ride would take us to his and his wife Paula’s graves. 

Ben Gurion is buried in the middle of the desert, kind of in the middle of nowhere.  The story goes that he was on his way back to Eilat when he was prime minister, and ran into a group of young people who had set up tents in the area.  When he asked what they were doing there, they told him that they were establishing a kibbutz and settling the Negev.  Whereupon Ben Gurion asked if he could join them.  Needless to say, they were taken aback.  Here was an old man, the prime minister of the country, asking to join their kibbutz! 

After some deliberations, they decided to admit him, and when word reached Ben Gurion in Jerusalem, he quit as prime minister to become a kibbutznik.  As our guide said, it would be like George Washington asking a group of homesteaders in the wild west if he could join them.  Ben Gurion did eventually return to politics, but he retired to Sde Boker and died there in 1973.  The main part of the story was his push to settle the Negev, which comprises 60 percent of Israel. With the Coastal Plain and central Israel becoming more and more crowded, the Negev is a potential answer to the question of what to do with everyone.  Of course the major question is water, as I mentioned yesterday. 

We left Ben Gurion’s grave for a side trek, mountain biking to a natural pool, Ein Akev, in which the water is icy cold and 20 feet deep.  Jumping in was quite a shock to the system!  I really loved the mountain biking, riding on a rocky path, flying downhill in semi-control, pushing uphill.  I’m not sure why descending on a mountain bike doesn’t freak me out, but I’ll go with it- what a thrill.  Hopefully I’ll do more of it when I get home.

We returned to Sde Boker for lunch, realizing that we still had 20 miles, with two major climbs to do.  The terrain is rocky and hilly, with cliffs alternating layers of tan, beige, cream and reddish-brown.  Some scrub brush grows there, but otherwise there isn’t much vegetation.  As kilometer after kilometer ticked off, the group strung out along the highway.  I was somewhere in the back of the middle, the stronger riders way ahead, and the average ones like me struggling to get over the hills.  Riding on the major road between Beer Sheva and Eilat means that there will be some traffic, but it’s not heavy, and the cars and trucks gave us wide berth.  After the first major climb, we had a rest stop next to Israel’s maximum security prison, welcome if not scenic.  The ride staff is excellent at keeping us hydrated and well fed, as you burn off a tremendous amount of calories while riding.  In fact, a word about the ride staff- they are really excellent, making sure everyone has what they need.

At times, I was questioning whether I had the legs to do the whole ride, but 2 hours after leaving Sde Boker, we finally arrived in Mizpeh Ramon, altitude 3000 feet.  My hands are semi-numb from gripping the handlebars, a result of being still a novice biker, my nether region is, well, a little sore, and my legs seem to wobble when I walk. 

When Yeshaya Ballon spoke at the shul after his November ride, he said that you never appreciate Shabbat so much as when you get to Mizpeh Ramon and have a day off the bike after 3 days of riding.  He’s right!  Shabbat will be an amazing day of rest before the last 2 days and 120+ miles of hot desert riding.   I need a massage!

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Environmental Challenges in the Land of the Bible - Thursday, April 30, 2009

73 miles!  This was by far the longest I’d ever ridden in one day. We started out in Ashkeon, right on the Mediterranean, and we began to head inland, south-southeast toward the desert. We are finally getting away from urban riding and onto the open road.  The serious cyclists in the group are excited about being able to “throw the hammer down”, and the cappuccino crowd (I’m probably one of these!) is just happy not to have to dodge urban impediments.

Our first rest stop was at Nir-Am, a reservoir overlooking Gaza.  It’s a little strange to be so close to Gaza, but all is quiet.  Our route takes us near Sderot, through the Eshkol region (which I heard afterward had a couple of mortars fall there, although we didn’t know that at the time).  Our next rest stop is 13 miles down the road, at the Be’eri bike shop. In the middle of nowhere, there is a bike shop with an attached café.  As more and more people are getting involved with biking in Israel- tourists and locals alike- there is a demand for a shop in an area where there are a lot of great trails, especially off-road.  I pick up some climbing bars here, which should help alleviate the pressure on my hands, and will also help me to tackle the big uphills that are coming. 

We lunch at a very nice gas station after 41 miles of riding, and the ride leaders give us an explanation of waste management.  It still boggles my mind that Israel is so behind when it comes to recycling, and progress is very slow.  Only 7% of Tel Aviv recycles, and the rest of the country isn’t much better.  With 32 miles to go, we set out again as the scenery becomes more and more desert like, sandier here than what we’ll find further south.  Just before arriving at our destination, we rest at Golda Park, where there is a little pool fed by a spring. Legend has it that this is the spot where Hagar and Ishmael found water after they were cast out by Abraham on Sarah’s advice. 

Everywhere you go in Israel, it seems that you find places of biblical significance.  Tomorrow, we’ll go through Midbar Zin, the area where Moses hit the rock he was supposed to have spoken to, and was punished by not being allowed to enter the Land of Israel, which at that time was much smaller than current day Israel.

A few words about water.  Ashkelon boasts the world’s largest desalination plant.  In a country where finding water is the major issue of natural resources, it is critical that alternative sources are found.  Israel is in its fifth year of drought, although it’s a little less severe this year thanks to some March rains.  It’s a conundrum, really.  On the one hand, the Negev is where the population needs to spread to in order to relieve the congestion of the middle of the country.  On the other hand, settling the Negev puts enormous pressure on the existing water resources of the country.  JNF has built a number of reservoirs in the desert, and there are many other efforts to create water availability, but the strain is going to be getting worse over the next few years.  Desalination is a big part of the solution, but it really isn’t clear what impact it will have in the long term.

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Tel Aviv to Ashkelon - Yom Ha'Azmaut - Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Finally, we’re off! The first few miles of the ride will be city riding through the streets of Tel Aviv, which is still sleeping off Yom Ha’atzmaut celebrations of the night before. We ride through the detritus that is the aftermath of last night, stopping at Rabin Square and Independence Hall before making our way south to Yafo. We stop again for a photo op just at the beginning of Yafo on the sea, and then start to ride through town and into Bat Yam along the beach promenade. The boulevard is becoming crowded and people shout out to us as we go by. After a few miles of riding, we stop at the Superland amusement park, and fuel up on nuts, dried fruit and powerade. The staff makes sure everyone tops up their water bottles and eats something.

We have a couple of hairy segments along the way, riding on a couple of major highways with traffic whizzing by us, and having to cross lanes, but the staff was good about making sure we got through in one piece. Plus, being Yom Ha’atzmaut, the traffic was lighter than usual. Still, a little gnarly!

The ride strings out at times, the better riders wanting to flex their muscles and pick up the pace. I wish I could keep up with them and take advantage of slipstream riding, but I can’t, so I’ll battle the elements myself. Well not really by myself- one of the nice things about the ride is that there is the opportunity to make connections with fellow riders. So occasionally we’ll pull up next to each other and have a little chat before one or the other of us feels like pushing off and riding a little faster. The group of 35 includes ages 12-74, mostly male and from the US with 2 Canadians and 2 Australians. There are also riders from the Arava staff, and lead riders and chase riders who help set and keep up the pace. So we are a nice compact group.

The route has a few uphills, but nothing too strenuous. I ride leisurely, taking in the neighborhoods through which we are riding.

As we shoot into Ashkelon, it seems the whole city is partying. Private homes are holding bbq’s and we yell Hag Sameach! As we cruise by. On a large green space there are hundreds of people gathered as families, enjoying their holiday. We pull into Ashkelon beach at 3:00, well ahead of schedule, and having ridden almost exactly 50 miles, which is about the length of my longest ride.

In Ashkelon, the beach scene is also a huge party for the holiday, which for many secular Israelis is the biggest holiday of the year. Again, Yom Ha-atzmaut is different from our 4th of July in that it independence is much closer to the people here than in the U.S. After the Yom HaZikaron commemoration, David Lehrer, the Director of the Arava Institute, remarked to me that for many secular Israelis, Yom HaZikaron is their Yom Kippur in terms of solemn observance. Similarly, Yom Ha-atzmaut is the most celebratory day.

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Yom Hazikaron - Monday, April 27, 2009

I can’t possibly do justice in words to what I experienced tonight.  Tonight is Yom HaZikaron, Israeli Memorial Day.  It is a very different day from what we celebrate in the U.S., where Memorial Day to most is the unofficial first day of summer.  Yom HaZikaron is the day when Israel remembers the 22,570 killed since 1860 when Jews first settled outside the walls of Jerusalem.  Tel Aviv held a tekes, a ceremony, in Kikkar Rabin, a large plaza next to the spot where Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated in 1995.  By the time I arrived at the square, a huge crowd had already assembled.

At exactly 8:00 PM, for one minute, a siren sounded. Everybody immediately became silent, standing still, in an act mirrored throughout the country.  Some bent their heads, many stood with vacant looks. Over the thousands gathered in the square, a sliver of moon hovered.  The only sound piercing the silence was the sharp cry of an infant.  When the siren ended, people slowly began moving and resumed conversations. 

After a few minutes, more and more people arrived for the tekes.  I made my way around the crowd to the far side from where I had been standing.  Thousands of people were here. I noticed that the vast majority was young- twenties, maybe early thirties. At 9:00 the tekes began.  The emcee spoke words of introduction and a singer took the stage.  She had a beautiful voice, filling the plaza with the pathos of her song.  Large screens projected her image with subtitles of the song’s lyrics.  When she finished, nobody applauded. 

The emcee returned to the stage and told of a soldier who had been killed in action. In the corner of the screen, a woman signed his words.  The screen then filled with a picture of the soldier and his dates of birth and death.  He was 21 when he met his end in 2006.  His mother shared memories of him, then his sister did the same, both in taped interviews.  After two minutes, another singer took the stage and sang an equally mournful song.  Looking around at the thousands of spectators, one could see many moist eyes and not a few tears.  For an hour and a half, this continued: songs, brief speeches, stories of those killed.  For an hour and a half, all were rapt, focusing on the singers, the speeches, the stories.  Some in the crowd were singing along, many were holding each other.

On my short walk back to the hotel, I realized that the people who were in Kikkar Rabin tonight were not spectators at all.  They were participants.  The stories we heard were their stories, and the songs that were sung were their songs.  An Israeli friend once told me that there was a huge difference between Israelis and Diaspora Jews because Israelis served in the army, laying their lives on the line.  Yesterday, I mentioned that making aliyah required a huge commitment, especially if it means committing one’s children to the defense of Israel.  Tonight I understand even more clearly what a huge commitment that can be.