On August 20th 2022 the bike is packed,  the new passport has arrived and the weather is good enough to start a new adventure. Kathrin joins me on the first days of this journey. Together we cross the Alpine passes Albula, Bernina and the Fuorcla di Livigno. After a pretty cold night on the campground, we ride on a popular and steep MTB route up to Col Alipsella. From there a rather adventurous MTB track leads through Val Mora up to the picturesque Döss Radönt (2234m) that is fully controlled by curious marmots. From there a long gravel roads brings us down to Mustair.

After Tolmin I escape the traffic and the heat on a lovely small mountain road to Cepovan and somehow end up in the city of Novo Gorica. That city has been erected after WW2 when old Gorica was declared to be Italian. From here I pass through olive groves, wine yards and small villages, slobbering. In the end of the day I finally get to taste the local wine on the small campground in Storje.

The plan is to meet my father in Albania in a few weeks. Someone recommended me to visit Kotor Bay in Montenegro. The bay is actually a double bay and stunningly surrounded by high mountain ranges covered in thick rain clouds. All of a sudden, there a rarely German member plates on the cars anymore. Instead, tourists here are from Russia, Serbia or Bulgaria. I spend two rainy days resting in a small apartment just outside the city center of Kotor. The streets of the fancy medieval city center are tiled with big marble tiles and become very slippery in the rain these days. Every days a big cruise ship anchors in the bay, overlooking the city walls and churches by far. Flocks a tourists flush through the streets for a few hours then. Since there is heavy rain predicted for the next few days along the coast, I decide to move inland where the forecast is better.

When I show my passport at the border from Albania to Greece, an official starts singing "Deutschland, Deutschland über alles". It takes me a moment to realize what is going on. I laugh and say "Thanks but no". He smiles and waves me through.
There is only a highway after the border, and a rough gravel road. I take the later towards Kastoria and enjoy the first night in that neat town with a charming old centre. On small roads I move on to Meteora. There a many shrines on the roadside that look like small churches. I learn about the bears that roam the hills, that's why people have really big dogs here. I hope not to meet them and lose any interest in stealth camping.

The ferry arrives around midnight in Kissamos on Crete. I stay in a hotel next to the port, as well as Dominik, a young cyclist from Germany. We happen to have the same rough goal for our journeys, and so we venture out together on the next day. The plan is to get the Paleochora, take a ferry from there to Hora Sfakion and then cycle on to Sitia, where ferries depart for Rhodes.

The charm of Kas enchants me. There is a marina, lots of old buildings, restaurants and affordable hotels. As well, there's an antique Amphitheater with a splendid view over the bay and Kastelorizo. Young people meet here at sunset. Russians perform a theater play here. Actually, many young Russians are here, hoping to avoid being drawn to the war.

]]> Journey to the Promised Land 2022 Fri, 01 Sep 2023 12:20:06 +0000 https://www.mastersong.de/index.php/journey/journey-to-the-promised-land-2022/213-recovering-in-cyprus https://www.mastersong.de/index.php/journey/journey-to-the-promised-land-2022/213-recovering-in-cyprus

The ferry arrives early in the morning in Girne (or Kyrenia). There is not a long queue before the immigration checkpoint, but a big unorganized flock of people. After that procedure and the rather sleepless night on the uncomfortable ferry I decide to stay for a night in the rather charming old town. Kyrenia feels neither like Turkey (despite the majority of people here are Turks), nor like Greece. There are a few British pubs here with plastic christmas decoration, many Africans and people from the Middle East. Basically, everybody seems to be happy to speak English. And I have beers and fish and chips for diner. First beers since I left Kastelorizo.

On my way to Lefkosia (aka Nicosia) on the next day I try to avoid the busy highway, and end up multiple times at forbidden military zones. Perhaps, I should have gone around the island (as most cyclists do). Lefkosia, the parted city is full of history. The narrow alleys around the famous caravansarai of Büyük Han in the old town on the Turkish side have a charming backpacker flair. There is a border post in the middle of the city, separating the Greek part from the Turkish. The other side of the city suddenly feels modern and somehow cold. When I try to use my few Greek words at the shops, people stare at me and respond in English. At least a young man sits in the shopping street and plays some Beatles songs on the guitar. I stay in an anonymous long-term stayers residence for students for the night, stroll around in the modern city center and hardly meet a soul.

Lefkosia is a cats paradise. Many cat shelters and feeding stations are located along the Pediaios river valley. In that valley, a bicycle trail leads me out of the city towards the Troodos mountains. Still feeling cold, I choose Kakopetria as todays destination for not being as high up as other famous villages in the area. There is a well conserved old cobblestone street with beautiful stone houses in Kakopetria, where I stay in a rather luxury room. Thank havens tourist season is over.

Leaves are golden brown in the forests, and its is a chilly ride to Karvounas on 1200 metres above the sea. I follow the beautiful bicycle trail from Amiantos to the St. Johns Monastery and Pano Platres through pine forests. Despite a priest with a long beard and some mushroom foragers I'm alone out here. Platres is a nicely kept mountain villages, a hideout for the hot summer months. As displays indicate, further up at 1600 metres, there are even ski resorts. Still 70km to go to Paphos, where I booked an accommodation for a couple of days the cure my cold and do some home office. The road undulates through vineyards and orange plantations. I arrive in Paphos at sunset.

 

I spent almost a week in Pathos. Besides working, I enjoy the time and the space to do Yoga, pet a Rasta cat that come by frequently and visit the ancient Tombs of the Kings. Plus, book a flight to Tel Aviv. Unfortunately, there is no more ferries and cruise boats going to Israel at this time of the year.

Getting away: I spend an entire day searching all bike shops in Pathos for a suitable bike box. Eventually, half way to the airport, I find a 26" box in a bike shop and make an appointment to pack everything there just before the flight. A friend of the owner brings me and the packed bike to the airport for a non negotiable price. I have the whole box professionally wrapped again at the airport just to make sure. The security guys check the oversize baggage and spot a drinking bottle in the frame and insists to see it (or rather, remove it). Stupid me - I have to cut open everything and glue it together again... As well, I have to hand out my little guitar at the gangway and cannot bring it to the cabin.

]]> Journey to the Promised Land 2022 Sun, 24 Sep 2023 04:45:33 +0000 https://www.mastersong.de/index.php/journey/journey-to-the-promised-land-2022/214-cycling-in-israel https://www.mastersong.de/index.php/journey/journey-to-the-promised-land-2022/214-cycling-in-israel

I arrive in the evening at Ben Gurion airport and take a cab to my Warmshower hosts Arie and Evelyn. The two are experienced travelers themselves and, beside great food and comfortable bed, provide a lot of helpful information about traveling by bicycle in Israel and invite me to stay at least two nights with them. So I visit Jaffa and Tel Aviv on the first day. Arie joins me on my ride out of Tel Aviv.

I follow Aries route suggestion and cycle North along the coast first. Partly I follow the Israel Trail on sandy tracks which are hard to ride in the rain. The sand grinds in the gearbox. Green monk parakeets are often seen.

On the way, I visit the ruins of the ancient harbour of Caesarea, which has been build by the biblical king of Herodot. The computer animation in the museum is really impressive. A few kilometers south of Jaffa, I stop at a kind of kibbutz for the night. The only guesthouse there would not accept cards. The owner instead recommends to camp at a quiet picnic place in an old olive orchard not far away. That works out very well. Jackals howl in the night.

In Haifa, I get a replacements for my crumbling bike shoes. Other than that, I only take a few photos from the famous Bahai Gardens and the old city center. Much more, I'd like to see the ancient city of Acre. Unfortunately, there is no dedicated bike road. Instead, I have to follow the busy highway with all its traffic lights. Traffic noise hunts me today, and the old town of Acre is crammed with cars and scooters. Like Jaffa, Acra is an Arab town within Israel, with an own, distinct feeling compared to the Jewish settlements.

It is Friday, so from the afternoon until Sunday most shops will be closed for Shabbat. I still ride up towards Rosh Ha Nicra, yet have little success finding me a nice place to camp. Instead, I book a room in Rosh Ha Nicra, just a stone throw away from the Lebanon. Shakals already roam the roads when I arrive in the sleepy settlement.

I follow the border to the Lebanon through lush forested hills. Mongoose sitting on the rocks, shakals rush away when they spot me. Every once in a while I can look behind the fence, where the country looks rather like a rocky dessert. An orange cats joins me the next night on a picnic place before I cross the Jordan river.

It is a long climb up the Golan heights through vast, barren and windy pastures. From the Coffee Anan on Mount Bental I watch into Syriah before I rush down to biblical Sea of Galilee. After Gesher Benot Ya'aqov I leave Route 91 to follow a beautiful dirt road along the Jordan river with cows and ancient ruins.

Those who've read the bible know the area is full of biblical places. I visit the church of the primacy of St. Peter and pay a visit to the excavation site of ancient Magdala before moving on to Tiberias. The hot springs at the end of the city are declared National Park that features some outdoor pools, showers and picnic tables. A family sings lovely songs from Rainbow gatherings and play on a guitar.
At the southern end of the lake Galilee is another camping spot, directly on the Jordan river. The path here is part of the Israel National Trail, and I meet a guy from Brazil who's been hiking all the way from the North.

Out here on the quiet Jordan river banks, everything feels biblical. Back on the busy main road, I move on the Bet She'An to visit the big excavation site with impressive Greek, Roman and Byzantine legacies. A night in real bed and a hot shower feels great.

On the next day, I cycle on to Jericho into Palestine areas. Crossing the border post here is no deal at all (for me). Still there are vegetable fields and date trees, yet there's a feeling of the dessert already. on a break at a gas station, a young man presents me with a box of sweets and welcomes me to Palestine.

After the checkin in my hotel, I decide to go for a walk. A man talks me into a ride in his car in Jericho and talks a lot about the city, about his friend on the refugee camp and his cupping treatments. I lose my credit card in his car, luckily I kept his phone number. Mohamed returns instantly to the market place where I left the car. I find the card underneath the seat, and Mohamed insists to drive me to the next ATM that rejects to give me money. With all the talks and the fuzz I left the card in the ATM. Its been all crazy enough but Mohamed still insists that I meet his friend with the cupping in the refugee camp. So I give in, enjoy the treatment in the ghetto like area and have a small diner on a street restaurant on Mohameds costs before he brings me back to my hotel.

Luckily, I get the credit card back on the next day. I visit the excavation sites of ancient Jericho (Tel el Sultan) and marvel upon the layers of city defenses found here from 12(!) millennia. Well, without that impressive computer animated documentary video, it would have been just rubble...
Another site, Hishams Palace was a ambitious project of the Umayyad kings 1200 years ago with a spa and all sorts of things. However, just after it was finished, an earthquake ruined it and the dynasty vanished.

The forecast for the mountain range of Jerusalem and Bethlehem predicts rather cold and rainy days. And I'm not in the mood for tourist crowds celebrating Christmas up there, so I stick to the dessert. After a brief visit to Wadi Quelt with the St. George monastery I cycle back to the Jordan river and leave the Palestine territory. At the biblical site of John the Baptist, the small river is the frontier between Israel and Jordan.

At the Dead Sea, I enjoy a sensation of zero gravity while floating in the salty water for a bit. Afterwards, I am filled up with impressions. So I skip the site where ancient Tora rolls were found just a few decades ago, and push on through the dessert along the Dead Sea.

The highway is busy and seems endless today. Crumbling colorful table mountains to the right, the Dead Sea to the left - no picnic spots, no water and hardly any settlements. It turns out I have to ride until En Gedi, where I reach an official campground just after sunset. It is mostly Israelian families that camp here on concrete with their family tents or rent the clamping tents and camper vans. I easily make new acquaintances in the restaurant and learn a lot about the area and the kibbutzim in the Arava dessert. And it rains at night.

On the next day, I hike a loop to picturesque Wadi David with its waterfalls. Mountain goats and ibex roam the hills close to the big well. The area has been occupied since 7000 years, as excavations proofed. Due to the rain (in the dessert) there is a severe danger of flash floods here in the dessert wadies. As well, I miss the opportunity to lit the Hanukkah fires. Instead I enjoy a stroll though the kibbutz that is a botanical garden itself.

From En Gedi, it is two more days to Eilat where I wanted to meet Kathrin on New Years eve. The art kibbutz of Neot Smadar is located not far away from Eilat and approves my request to volunteer for a few days. After a long day ride on the barely avoidable busy highway, I make it to Hatseva in the middle of a extensive agricultural area. Asians return from work on the backs of pickup trucks. Hatseva is a so called Moshav, kind of kibbutz. As I learn from some Philippines on the next day, people from Cambodia, Philippines and Thailand come to Israel to study agriculture, and in return help in the fields.

It is raining in the dessert on the next morning. Since a have an appointment with the people from Neot Smadar, I push on. The constant headwind lowers my mood. Is that the second last day of my journey to the promised land, I mutter. By lunch time, I arrive with tired legs at an oasis with funny wooden artwork, a restaurant and a shop. Some young folk welcome me in. I enjoy a delicious Pide with egg, eggplant and hummus. Meanwhile, it keeps raining. If I did not want to stay here for a day or two, I am asked by Avid who sells fire-proof teapots and Hila, who runs a stall with frozen yoghurt. The music box plays Hotel California by the Eagles, and I decide to stay. Hila shows me the former spa house where I can sleep, and Josh hands me a spare warm blanket to the cold dessert nights .

It keeps raining for two more days. I get to meet the family, the friends and famous Kushi himself who asks me if I would stay for a wek, a month or a year. It is fun to chat with everyone and help out here and there. There are nomads, druse, conservative Jews and all kinds of people working together here. Beside she shops and the restaurant, there is a camel and two donkeys for kids to ride. Once upon in time, Kushi has had a casino here, and a zoo that was famous for a two headed snake. Still, he is legend in Israel and many people come just to visit this oasis.
In the evening, we'd gather in front of the shops to talk and maybe play some guitar. Hila invites me to prepare Shabbat pastries. Later I attend the Shabbath diner, actually getting to know some Jewish traditions.

On New Years Eve, I leave Kushi 101 towards Eilat, only 60 more kilometers away. The songs Avid played in his teapot shop linger on in my ears. Now that the rain has stopped, I try to ride some bumpy gravel roads for a while. In Eilat, I have booked an AirBnb accommodation for the next nights. My better half Kathrin arrives later in the evening. After almost 5 months, we are reunited and celebrate New Year. For the next two weeks, we will be traveling together (without the bicycle) and then return to Switzerland.

Idan Amedi: Chelek MeHazman
Idan Amedi: Nigmar

On the third day, we venture out to hike for a few days through the dessert. The bicycle remains at the AirBnb, and we stuff our backpacks with food and water for the next few days. A bus brings us to the trail head for the impressive Red Canyon trail, from where we walk on through Wadi Shahan. We see rock hyraxes and ibexes. We reach the INT and spend the night on the Raham Etek camp, that is luckily equipped a water faucet and a toilet.

The next hiking destination is the Timna National Park, famous for prehistoric copper mines and petroglyph. Flowers start to bloom in the dessert, fueled by last weeks rain. The (not that easy) hike up Mount Timna is pretty popular. We find ourselves in the middle of school classes. Two hikers sit beside the trail and invite us for a cup of coffee. They spotted my nerdy shirt, tell us about their IT carriers and the recent rise of Chat-GPT, a new and amazing generative AI.
It is a strenuous descent for Mount Timna, and a long way to the visitor center. We manage just before sunset. The ranger there insists that we stay at their small trail angel campground. Tomorrow he'll tell us where we will find water on our way to the kibbutz of Neot Smadar.
For tonight, we are grateful for electricity and toilets. A cyclist from Poland arrives later and puts up his tent. We light a small fire and talk about cycling and his self made dry food. Since he is almost at the end of his journey, he provides us two or three portions of his sweet potatoes and dal, enough to carry on for two ore three more days.

Much more lonely dessert trails that appear uninspiring on photos yet amazing if experienced by yourself. We are taken away by those thousand of rock forms, color nuances and petrifications on rocky walls, flats and table mountains in the Arava. Later, we arrive at the INT camp of Be'er Milhan. There is still water, and we get in touch with a some young Israeli long distance hikers that startet at the very beginning of the INT in Kfar Giladi. Now they are almost at the end of their voyage (as well as I am), and it's great to hear how they feel and what they think in the bright light of the full moon.

After a rather cold night, we move on to the next camp, Shaharut. Wadi in, Wadi out. Giant ball shaped rocks at one place. No sounds for hours, except for the rushing of the blood in my ears.

On the following day, our trail leads through the dunes of Kasui where Israeli people go for wake boarding and hiking. The GPS shows a shortcut through the dessert to the kibbutz of Neot Smadar but after half an hour following that trail, it seems rather risky. So we follow the highway for 12 kilometers to get there. It is Shabbath, yet luckily the kibbutz Cafe is open when we arrive in the late afternoon. Some cold beers help to cool the glowing feet and easy the muscle pain. We stay to volunteer for two days, and get a glimpse of what life would be like in this art kibbutz that has only been founded in 1989.

Compared to the warm days in the dessert, it is rather cold in Jerusalem in the morning. We take a walk to the Jaffa Gate and join a guided tour organized by the Abraham Hostel. Joni, our guide leads us through the famous Armenian, Muslim, Christian and Jewish quarters of the Old City and pinpoints interesting facts. It is a cool hike that provides a great overview.
Later, we visit the Western Wall with all the praying Orthodox Jews. Afterwards we miss the time slot to visit the Dome of the Rock (and won't see it at all). The Church of the Holy Sepulchre is crammed with visitors. The Old City with its narrow cobblestone alleys and bazars and limestone houses is fascinating anyhow. Instead of queuing there, we just sit in front of the church and pet a smart cat that knows how to fetch some caresses.

On the rooftop of the Austrian Hospiz we chat with a young couple from Palestine. The boy tells me something like, he'd never trust Palestine people.
At diner, we talk with some American students that study the Tora in Jerusalem. On the way back we stroll through the vivid Mahane Yehuda Market and listen to some street musicians. As well, we wonder about civilians wearing guns in the middle of the city.

Our trip to Bethlehem is not under a good star. At the bus station near Damascus Gate, a "student" named Amir from Bethlehem tells us that our requested bus 231 doesn't run on Fridays. Wouldn't we like to take a tour with him for 100 dollars?
Instead, we are on bus 234, which only goes as far as the checkpoint just before Bethlehem. Behind the checkpoint, dozens of "helpful" cab drivers are already waiting with their tour offers or false information (This way my friend). We continue stubbornly to the high border wall that separates Rachel's Tomb from the Palestinian territory. After a while, the cab guys finally give up. The border wall is full of more or less successful graffiti about the oppression of the Palestinians.
At the "Walled off Hotel" we just wanted a cup of coffee and go to the toilet. As the staff tells us, the hotel contains an exhibition. Thus, we'd have to pay the equivalent of 5 euros to go to the toilet.
The streets are very busy and the sidewalks are wildly parked up, which makes walking a pain in the bum. My interest in Bethlehem is already at rock bottom. Luckily, Kathrin agrees to drive back to Jerusalem immediately.
Back in Jerusalem we see the 231 bus, which would have gone straight to Bethlehem. At this point, many thanks to young Amir and the adorable taxi drivers at the checkpoint - you are no good advertisement for Palestine.

Back in Jerusalem, we enter the Old City through the Damascus Gate, walk the bazars in the Muslim quarter again. Today, there is not that much of a crowd in front of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. So we take the chance to visit the sacred place where Jesus was crossed and buried. It is a very special atmosphere in here, even for an atheist...

Last day in Jerusalem, last day of the journey. In the morning, I visit a free Yoga class at some nearby hostel and actually come to cycle the Holy City. Later, Kathrin and I take a walk to the Israel Museum where we spend the rest of the day.
We take an early train to the airport on the next day, and I find a taxi driver who helps me to fetch the bike carton I left at my first warmshower hosts. The check-in procedure is a bit of a hassle, but at least I don't have to open the bike carton again. The flight to Istanbul starts with a delay, and with a lot of running and goodwill from the staff in Istanbul, we can still hop on the connecting flight back to Switzerland.

That was almost 5 months, and more than 6000 kilometers of cycling. Someone in Neot Smadar asked me, what I was looking for on this journey (instead of, where I was going to go to). I'm still contemplating on a reasonable answer. Shalom, salam, and many thanks to all the kind hearted people I met on this journey...