Suicide Bombing in Tel Aviv

For those of you who may have heard, there was a suicide bombing in a Tel Aviv oceanfront nightclub last evening around midnight, killing 4 people and wounding 30. We spent the night at Maoz and Shlomit's house, which is in Kiryat Ono, one of the suburbs of the city. This bombing is the first in a fairly long while, and a tragic event in light of the hopeful recent history betweent the Israelis and Palestinians with the cease-fire agreement only a few weeks ago.

Yesterday afternoon Eric and Maoz and I walked along the boardwalk from the edge of the city throughYaffo (Jaffa), the ancient port city that Tel Aviv was built around. It's difficult to know what this will mean for the rising peace initiative here, but you can keep in your prayers the safety of everyone in this part of the world, on all sides of this on-going conflict...

For online news articles (Keep an attentive ear for the difference in tone) :

BBC News - Bomb kills clubbers in Tel Aviv
Al Jazeera - Several killed in Tel Aviv disco blast
CNN - Israeli police: Four dead in Tel Aviv bombing

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Israel National Trail Information

Also, I added some general information to our site about the Israel National Trail that our friend Maoz wrote to help English-speaking hikers like us find our way along the route. He hopes to write an entire trail guide which would be an incredible resource for all those who wish to hike the trail but are struggling with resources. This page is a work in progress, and we decided to post it "as is" to make it available for anyone doing internet research on the trail. To the best of our knowledge, it is the most information about the trail in English available on the web at this time. If anyone has questions about the trail, Maoz or I would be very happy to help out.

Green Hills & Simple Lessons

After updating our website in the Mitspe Ramon public library, we set out to hitchhike north to Be'er Sheva. Three rides later we found ourselves once again on the trail, hiking in the dark to find a campsite. We pitched the tent alongside of a farm road running parallel to the trail and railroad tracks, cooked dinner and called it a day. Throughout the night, trains regularly passed nearby, waking us up with their sudden noise and light, reminding us of our new location. When we rose in the morning, we realized that we had arrived in a very different world.

Waking up with moisture in the air and dew on the tent, it suddenly felt like a different place. The dryness of the desert had disappeared, and when we poked our heads out of the tent to begin preparations for another day of hiking, it was green! The change in landscape gave us new mental energy as we packed up and prepared to continue on the trail, eagerly anticipating the diversity in landscape that we were transitioning towards.

We began hiking through new scenery: beautifully lush green meadows and farmland with bright spring flowers in full bloom. The trail wound through various parks and historical sites and was alive with mountain bikers, hikers and families on picnic outings. Everyone that we talked to along the way told us that we had chose the best time of year to pass through this part of the country, as the wildflowers were blooming at their peak. Maybe it has been a while since we've seen such beautiful colors or maybe it was just the transition from the more gentle earth-tones of the desert, but I can hardly remember such vibrant landscapes during other parts of this trip?

Still struggling with our boots, we decided to continue with them for the day until the trail passed close to Ashkelon, we would make the final decision whether to try to use them for the remainder of the hike or to leave them with the Stutzmans on the boat. Throughout the day, my blisters redeveloped, the sole of Eric's one boot continued to develop a tear, and after getting a little off route and wandering through some swampy and muddy fields, we decided to make a stop at the marina.

We walked out to the highway and were fortunate enough to catch three rides towards Ashkelon with three very different drivers. The first was a girl in her twenties who was already about 6 hours late to help one of her friends with a job, but she said that she hitchhikes and knows was it's like, so she thought she would help us out and that maybe the favor would be more likely to be returned to her someday. The next was two religious teenage guys who were excited about our hiking the trail and very friendly, but didn't seem to know the way to Ashkelon. We had to remind them where we needed to get off to avoid heading in the opposite direction as they headed home. And finally, we met a woman illegally posting advertising signs for a Brazilian restaurant her family ran at a nearby Kibbutz. She told us that if she posted them as the Shabbat dusk was beginning and took them off late Saturday afternoon, she could avoid the fines because the police were off duty. And apparently it had been working well during the past few months as business was booming each Saturday afternoon. We pulled into the marina as the sun was setting over the Mediterranean, thankful for our luck in getting there and looking forward to a little rest.

We had a wonderful Shabbat meal with Linford & Janet on the boat, and spent most of Saturday in conversation with them, relaxing and taking the day of rest that our bodies needed. We also took the opportunity to get our first shower since beginning the trail a week before, trying to make the most of each precious drop of hot water. A friend from the Marina, Moshe, was kind enough to give us a ride out that evening, and once again we were back on the trail, ready to continue hiking, a bit lighter and cleaner. Our only other option for footwear was our Chaco sandals, and we figured it was better than heavy or worn out boots?.and Jesus probably wore sandals anyways when he walked the land, so why couldn't we?

The next section of trail brought us east and up out of the flatter farmland into the hills near Jerusalem, through nearly constant National Parks and historical ruins. Each day we would pass through the remains of ancient buildings, water cisterns, fortresses and stone fences and walls. We walked over a number of tels (the volcano-shaped mounds that are the result of villages being built upon themselves over the years), including a few that we remembered from our course with Jerusalem University College a few years back. It was nice to be able to put places on the map, and there is no better way to do this very thing than by arriving there on foot, feeling the lay of the land with every step.

As the trail reached its closest point to Jerusalem, we encountered yet another Israeli school group out for a hiking field trip. After maneuvering around the pack and stopping for a break, they caught up and a group of adolescents came up to us, bombarding us with questions about what we were doing. The first phrase that is usually asked us when we tell people that we are hiking the trail is, "Where do you sleep?" We usually reply with something like, "Wherever we end up?" It seems that not a lot of people around here seem to grasp that fact that we sleep outside every night, but they do appear very open about us using the land for our campsites. It seems that the concept of land in Israel is more of a communal one than a "private property ? get off my land!" mentality that we have encountered more often in the States. When we stop to refill our food and water at small communities, everyone is incredibly helpful, especially after they learn that we are hiking the Israel Trail, freely offering us coffee, snacks, internet access? probably whatever we would ask for?

On two different days each of us discovered and acquired an abandoned baseball cap along the trail, slightly dirty but fully functional. For a little more sun protection and a variety, we have adopted these hats as we walk along each day. With our growing beards and hair sticking out the sides and back, I think we are beginning to resemble Forrest Gump at the part of the movie where he runs across the United States. One of the Israeli schoolgirls pointed to my hair sticking wildly out of the hat and told me, "It looks funny!" And as each day comes and goes through the of trail life, we get into a rhythm where when we get hungry - we eat, when we get tired - we sleep, continuing steadily across the land.

One night as we were camping in park we were awakened by a racket of awkward clumping all around our tent. Not sure what to expect, I quickly sat up and flipped on my light to see what sort of animals were outside, discovering half a dozen wild donkeys wandering through the night. Each evening as the sun is setting we also hear the jackals howling, as one will usually begin and the rest of the pack will chime in with strange pitched yells. Everyone has told us that they are harmless, so we are starting to become accustomed to their sounds. It seems like we have encountered a lot of Israel's flora and fauna, becoming more integrated into the land here and realizing what it feels like to live life naturally and personally.

We have been walking through a variety of sites of Biblical events, but was has been the most fascinating and impacting to us is the small observations we make about the landscape and how they relate to Jesus' teachings that he shared with all people. The vineyards, the olive trees, the rolling hills and green meadows, the shepherds with their flocks of sheep and goats all paint a picture of what life is like when you walk the land. These things also remind us that Christ was a master teacher, using everyday objects in parables to teach simple people incredibly foreign concepts. This continues to teach us that understanding culture is vital in our ability to share the learning process with each other, enabling us all to get to the heart of the matters that ultimately transcend each of our cultures and help us along the road of life.

As we arrived in Tel Aviv yesterday, we got off the trail to spend a day with our friends Maoz and Shlomit. Their help, hospitality and friendship have been wonderful as we work our way through the Israel Trail. It has been a pleasure getting to know them better, learning from each other through our similarities and differences. We have also been feeling the physical stress of this type of travel and have decided to take another rest day to regroup and reenergize before we head out tomorrow.

As we progress along the trail, we have been continually reevaluating our goals and needs as we look ahead to the remaining two weeks ahead before we meet up with our friends Alethia Bailey and Laura Helmuth who will be joining us to travel for a few weeks. We have decided to continue hiking independently for the remainder of the time, taking the trail at our own pace and each day as we each feel best fits our personal needs. Our individual adventures will take us into different places and encounters and we will update the website as we are able to during the next two weeks.

Each day we are truly blessed by the nature around us as we walk through this interesting and diverse country. As we watch the lilies of the field grow, their splendor teaches me of the beauty of traveling simply and lightly, unencumbered by the worry that often holds us back. I'm excited for the next few weeks, continuing northward towards Galilee, free to experience anything that might come along the path.

A Glimpse of the Desert Life

The desert is brutal. From overhead, the punishing rays of the sun beat down, baking the rocky soil and draining away life. As late afternoon approaches, a dry, dusty breeze begins to blow, merely a pretext to the cold night yet to come. In a neaby wadi, a tiny trickle of water is the sole means of survival for wildlife for miles around. There is definitely nothing complex about living in the desert. Survival is gauged upon determination and adaptability. In a land of harsh realities, life can easily be reduced to the very simplest of terms...

Unsure of what to expect on our first section of the Israel Trail, Dave and I decided to err on the side of being well-prepared. Towns and water sources are few and far between in the southern Negev, and we certainly didn't want to find out too late that we had underestimated. So while still in Ashkelon, we paid a visit to the supermarket and purchased our fuel for the next six days... pasta, granola, bread, salami, tuna fish, and even some dulce de leche imported directly from Argentina. After cutting back our clothing and gear to the absolute essentials, we packed our bags and said goodbye to Lin, Janet, and Sailing Acts for the next month. Within a few hours, we arrived in Eilat, the southernmost city in Israel and the starting point for our cross-country trek to the north.

We arrived in Eilat on Friday evening, just as stores were beginning to close for Shabbat. Lugging our packs, we made a few mad dashes around town to pick up the remaining supplies that we needed for the trail. Once satisfied that all was in order, our final stop was a Pizza Hut restaurant down near the water. Nothing quite like two large, greasy pizzas to celebrate a journey into the wilderness! Full of ambition and full of pizza, we took a taxi out of town to the trailhead, hoping to start hiking early the following morning. With the waves from the Red Sea peacefully lapping against the shore, we set up our tent and chatted briefly about what exactly the next month might involve. This was without a doubt the most extreme backpacking trip either of us had ever attempted. But given its location and the challenges involved, we both agreed it could easily become our most rewarding.

We awoke the following morning to a granola breakfast and a crisp, beautiful sunrise out across the water. The initial ascent from off the Red Sea is a grueling one, and by late morning I was already wishing for a few more slices of pizza to keep me going. The views, however, were spectacular and provided enough of a distraction to keep my mind off of food, at least for the moment. By afternoon, we had both settled into a steady pace and were beginning to feel accostomed to the weight of our packs and the unique feel of the desert. We camped out that evening near the base of a massive limestone cliff, with the orange glow of Eilat now miles away.

From earlier discussions with Shlomit and Maoz, our Israeli friends who have hiked most of the trail, we determined that there would be several places in the desert where we would need to have water dropped off for us. Fortunately, Shlomit has a friend in Eilat who likes to help hikers out, and could be counted on to resupply our water at a given time. And sure enough, as we descended out of a wadi early Sunday morning, there at the end of a dirt road were six fresh liters of water for both of us. It was a most welcome sight, as we had depleted nearly all of the nine liters that we began with the previous morning. I guess it pays to know people, especially when walking through a desert.

For a hiker, one of the most exciting things about being on the trail is the constant change in scenery. Throughout most of our second day, however, this was a luxury that we simply weren't granted. As one foot plodded after the other, the rocky desert floor remained virtually unchanged. With no real landmarks to track our progress, the solitary expanse transported us into a world of monotony and timelessness. It was along this isolated stretch of trail, as my mind began to wander and my strength continued to diminish, that I first considered what 40 days (or years!) in the desert must really be like.

It was also along this open stretch of trail that we first began to notice the physical effects of our hike across the desert. For the past two days, we had been carrying close to 60 pounds of food, water, and gear in our packs. This is extremely heavy under any circumstances, and given the constant impact of our feet on the hard, rocky surface it proved to be more than our feet could comfortably handle. It particularly affected Dave, who was wearing a newer, heavier boot that still hadn't achieved quite the proper fit. Limping around our campsite on Sunday evening, it was apparent that we needed to make a few changes.

The following morning we again packed up our bags and headed off down the trail. Instead of pushing ourselves to cover the most ground, we decided to take a bit more of a leisurely pace. Arriving at Timna National Park, we stopped for awhile to chat with the ranger on duty while filling up water. Continuing on, we took several breaks during the difficult climb over the Timna Cliffs to eat some snacks and air out our sore feet. We eventually found a suitable campsite high on a sheltered plateau, close to some old abandoned wells. After a tasty meal of cuscous and tuna, we gathered up some tinder and watched as our campfire quickly consumed the dry, gnarled wood. Reflecting on our limited progress thus far, we talked about the reality of our situation. Physically, we simply couldn't continue to carry the same amount of weight on such an unforgiving, rocky surface. And given our schedule, it was becoming increasingly apparent that we would be unable to hike the entire trail in the next three weeks. So we made the decision to bypass some of the longer desert stretches, and skip ahead to the more interesting and manageable terrain further north.

Our first encounter with civilization was the following day, when we strolled in to the small desert village of Shakharut. Consisting of about a dozen mud-brick houses on top of cliff, there didn't seem to be many signs of life as we arrived, except for a much-too-friendly young Boxer dog. Within a few minutes, however, we were approached by a woman walking towards her car. She was heading back towards Eilat in search of some desert real estate, and offered to give us a ride. So we jumped in, talked for awhile about the unique beauty of the desert, and sped off down the highway. Since we had no interest in returning to Eilat, we left her at a nearby junction, in hopes of catching another ride further north.

Although it might not be immediately obvious, there is a definite art to hitchhiking. Here in Israel, hitching is actually quite common, and many young Israelis have become quite proficient. Skill, however, can only take you so far. When dropped off at a random junction in the middle of the desert, it helps to have a bit of luck on your side as well. Unfortunately, we seemed to have neither. At one point, a young army general stopped, asked if everything was OK, and gave us some army-rationed chocolate cupcakes and bottled water, commenting that "you look like you need something to do!" It was here that we also encountered our first fellow thru-hiker on the Israel Trail, a young American from California named Joel. Although we were both wondering the same thing, it was he who first asked the obvious question, "So what brings you to Israel?" We spent some time explaining our journey, and he followed with a bit of his own story as well. A Jewish believer, he recently felt called by God to come to Israel, although he still isn't sure exactly why. So he is hiking the trail, being obedient to God's call, and waiting patiently for whatever lies ahead. Even though we only spoke for several minutes, in our conversation I found a lot that I could relate with.

After several hours of unsucessful hitchhiking attempts, we made our way to a nearby restaurant, unsure ourselves of what even the coming night would hold. Inside, a friendly waitress told us about a friend of hers who waited at that same junction all day for a ride that never came. She ended up taking the bus. With the last bus already past that evening, we decided to camp for the night in a run-down field behind the restaurant, several feet from the trickling of a buried septic tank. Not the most ideal of accomodations, particularly after several beautiful nights out in the desert, but it was our only real option and we made it work.

The next morning we returned to our familiar road side location, and again attempted to get a ride. Within minutes, however, a bus full of young Israeli military trainees stopped in front of us, and so we reluctantly paid the fare and climbed aboard. Previously while traveling in Israel, we've often wondered why there are so many military people traveling around on buses. Having been down to the south of the country, I think we've found our answer. The desert is like an immense playground for the military. Young trainees come here from all over to drive tanks, blow up rocks, and learn how to serve their country. Pretty much every car on the road is affiliated in some way with the military, and much of the land is marked "off-limits" for hikers such as ourselves. As I watched a variety of training operations from the bus window, I found myself quite pleased to be skipping over this particular section of the trail.

As I write this entry, I am sitting at the bottom of the world's largest crater, watching the sun rise across the distant eastern rim. The Ramon Crater, as it's called, is really nothing more than a big hole in the ground. Yesterday after getting off the bus at an isolated spot in the desert (and receiving a few strange looks from the bus driver), we found a trail that descends down into the crater and joins again with the Israel National Trail at the bottom. Hiking down the trail yesterday morning, we soon found a beautiful campsite on the side of a small rock outcropping, and decided to set up camp. We spent the day resting our bodies, enjoying the solitude, and exploring some of the small hills and valleys that pepper the landscape. Even with a whole day to explore, we quickly found that there's not a whole lot to see or do in the desert.

Unless of course, the crater that you are camping in happens to be a favorite location for Israeli Air Force pilots to test their maneuvering skills around the contours of the canyon. Believe me, there is nothing, nothing that can ever prepare you for the sudden scream of an Air Force bomber flying only several hundred feet above your head. At first, we found this private air show by one of the world's most esteemed air force squadrons to be quite entertaining. By about the 50th flyover, however, we began to think otherwise. Were it not for the fact that we were in a National Park, their presence directly overhead would have given us reason to be quite concerned. Fortunately, by the time we had eaten our dinner and crawled into the tent, the pilots had finished their drill and we were granted a peaceful night under the stars.

So after six days in the hot, sandy desert, what stands out from this experience? It is an environment all its own. Life is simple yet challenging; beautiful yet brutal. Like no other, the desert is a place that fosters deep reflection into the basic necessities of life. It clarifies, inspires, and prepares you for something more. Like so many of the biblical characters, I leave this time with a renewed sense of faith and purpose, waiting patiently for whatever is next.

Feeling that we have spent an adequate amount of time experiencing the desert, the next stop for Dave and I is the city of Be'er Sheva, where we will rejoin the Israel Trail on its way through Jerusalem and then back out to the coastal cities of Tel Aviv, Ceserea, and Haifa. We look forward to visiting a number of biblical locations on our route and getting to know the local people we will encounter along the way. And of course, the prospect of only needing to carry 2-3 days worth of food at any given time is also quite appealing. We will update the site again as we are able. Until then, Shalom!

Return to the Middle East

We arrived at the Montevideo airport and stepped up to check our bags for the upcoming 20 hour transatlantic flight. It was time to fly to the Middle East, the first major transition of our journey into an entirely different culture. We handed our tickets to the young lady working behind the desk, and after she looked at them a few times and punched a few things into the computer, she asked us politely, "Excuse me, but where is Amman?" I guess there are not too many travelers that run the Uruguay to Jordan route. We laughed to ourselves and informed her that Amman is the capital of Jordan, and once again reminded of how unique our journey really is...

After a stopover in Brazil and Madrid, we switched to a plane flown by Royal Jordanian Airlines. The Arabic script immediately brought back memories of the last time Eric and I had traveled to this part of the world with EMU's cross-cultural program in the fall of 2002. We were excited to return and continue learning in an area that had left such an impact on our lives. This was the first time on our trip where we were returning to a place we had been before, and it some ways it almost felt like home.

On the plane I was sitting next to Mazen, a Jordanian living in Paraguay who was returning to his home country for the first time in 18 years. We spent a large portion of the flight talking, learning about each others' families and lives. His mother had recently become ill, and he was coming to fly her to South America to see her grandchildren for the first and only time, hoping that he would be granted a visa for her visit. He also helped me with a few important Arabic phrases that we thought might come in handy during our stay in Amman.

We had another brief stopover in Vienna and I started talking to an American on board to pass the waiting time. Curious what might bring other Americans to the Middle East, I asked him a little more about his travel plans. I learned that the man was heading to Baghdad, where he worked with the contracted reconstruction of hospitals that were destroyed during the Iraq war. He was coming off of two weeks of vacation in Madrid with his wife and ready for another 13 in Iraq. When I asked how the progress was coming along, he said, "Honestly, it's pretty challenging. It's tough to get the locals to work as we want them to. The way we build hospitals is by sending them out with blueprints and digital cameras, and then telling them to come back with reports and photos about what they've done. Then we look at their work and tell them if it's going well or not. It's sort of like building hospitals by remote control." Before the plane took off again, he told me to keep my head low as Americans were not too welcome in this part of the world.

In Amman we stayed with the extended family of my uncle Basil, who was born in Jordan but now lives in North Carolina with my aunt Diane. We were excited to meet the Qaqish family and to return to a culture that had left so many previous positive memories on our lives. After arriving at the home of Basim, my uncle's brother and meeting the entire extended family, we were welcomed with the Arab hospitality of a wonderful dinner and hot tea afterwards. Tired from the 20 hour flight, we were able to fall asleep in spite of the jet lag effects.

The next day began with a delicious breakfast of pita bread, falafel and hummus, again, followed by hot tea. In the late morning, Basim and his son Afwad took us to the citadel in the old part of Amman, which remains as the ruins sitting on top of a hill. We went through a museum containing very old artifacts, some dating back over 5000 years that had been discovered from Jericho and Qumran, on the other side of the Dead Sea. We also visited the old Roman Theater, hiking up the stairs with Afwad to get a better view of the city. We returned back to their house for another abundance of delicious Arab food, still adjusting to the new culture and time zone.

Because of the cold and rain outside, most of the next few days were spent with the family in their houses, watching Arab TV and sipping hot tea. I'm still not sure which is a higher number; the hours spent watching television or the number of cups of tea we drank. During our stay in Amman we were very blessed once again by Arab hospitality, and it was a good experience getting to know some of my extended family members. And I also think we also ate more per day than any other time on the trip thus far...

The plan was to cross into Israel at the King Hussein/Allenby Bridge early in the morning in order to avoid the often lengthy process and start working at our preparations for hiking the Israel National Trail, which we hoped to begin in a few days. We arrived at the Jordanian customs building before it officially opened, and a few of the workers went out of their way to go get us a cup of hot tea while we were waiting. Our transition out of Jordan went very smoothly, yet slowly, and we spent another hour waiting for the bus to cross the Jordan River and get us to the other side of the bridge, pausing at each of the three security checkpoints.

This bridge connects Jordan to the West Bank and is used mainly by Palestinians (and travelers). As the bus waited for its turn to approach the Israeli customs building, we watched a young soldier about our age standing off to the side with his gun ready for action as each bus unloaded. After the passengers exited the bus and went inside the building, he would pause, lower the gun, and wait for the next one.

We went through multiple security checks inside of the building and managed to successfully convince the customs officials to let us into the country without putting an Israeli stamp in our passports. (We are planning to travel to Lebanon in a few months, and if you have evidence in your passport of a visit to Israel, you will be denied entrance at the border.) A little while later, we were in a Sherut climbing up out of the lowest valley on earth, up over 3000' in elevation to the city of Jerusalem.

It's nice to show up in a city and to already know your way around. We first walked from the Old City walls down Jaffa Street to an outdoor gear store to buy a new headlamp to replace my stolen one. Continuing down the same road, we arrived and caught a bus from the central station to Tel Aviv, having spent only about 3 hours in what is probably considered one of the holiest cities in the world.

During our first visit to Israel in 2002, Eric and I had hiked a part of the Israel National Trail during our free travel, completing the northern section from Tiberias on the Sea of Galilee to Tel Dan near Mt. Hermon at the Syrian/Lebanon/Israel borders. From the countless adventures that imprinted many memorable stories in our minds, we knew that trekking the rest of this path was sure to lead to more of the same. This diverse trail is blazed in stripes of blue, orange, and white, symbolizing its path near the Mediterranean Sea in the west, the Negev desert in the south, and the snow of Mt. Hermon in the north. We decided to begin our hike in Eilat, a port town on the Red Sea, and work our way north to Mount Hermon, after 900 km of meandering through the countryside.

Countless internet searches pointed us to mainly one site in English, a trail journal of an Israeli named Maoz who had hiked its length recently and recorded daily details and some beautiful photos. I thought I would try to email him and see if he could help answer a few of my questions about logistical details, maps, etc...In his response I found out his incredible willingness to help us in whatever way possible. We decided to keep in touch over the next few months as the time grew closer for us both to return to Israel.

Maoz and his girlfriend Shlomit had been traveling throughout South America in basically the same route we did, only they were a few months ahead of us. Shlomit returned to Israel before Maoz to continue working while he stayed a few more months in New Zealand. Upon arriving to Israel, we were to connect with Shlomit, who lives near Tel Aviv, to talk about maps, route, and desert water sources. Unable to get a hold of her on the first day, we decided to head south down the coast to Ashkelon.

In April we will be leaving Israel with Linford and Janet Stutzman, helping to sail their boat through the Mediterranean where we will end on the Greek island of Samos and then head to Athens. Linford and Janet were the leaders of our Middle East cross-cultural in 2002 and are currently sailing Paul's missionary journeys during Linford's sabbatical from Eastern Mennonite University. They are currently living on their boat, Sailing Acts, in the Ashkelon marina until then, and we thought it would be nice to spend a little time with them before we hit the trail.

We quickly adjusted to the swaying motion of the cabin and started to catch up on each others' lives and travel stories, starting right up where we had last left off as we always do. Living on a boat is definitely a new experience for both of us, and I think it has only got us more excited about the month of sailing that we will do in April. And it is also such a blessing to have good friends that you can connect with when you are at such different parts of the world.

During our time on the boat, we also managed to reach Shlomit by telephone and made a trip up to her house to talk about trail details. Maoz will return home next week and hopefully will also be able to join us in hiking some of the trail. It's amazing how these connections continue to smooth out the details of our journey. Without the help of Maoz and Shlomit, we would definitely be struggling through the Hebrew maps, wasting time searching for water sources, and probably missing a lot of the trail's secrets.

Today we will hit the trail, loaded up with more water than I believe I have ever carried in my life. This backpacking trip will be the longest either of us has ever done, and we are excited to explore this land on foot, encountering it in through the most personal travel approach possible. We also eagerly anticipate the space and solitude of the wilderness and the energy that we both pull from these types of experiences. We are ready to begin walking.

Article for EMU Crossroads

We wrote an article for the Spring 2005 issue of EMU's alumni magazine, Crossroads, and you can access it online here: http://www.emu.edu/crossroads/spring2005/livejourney.html.