The morning was remarkably cold with a fresh breeze. I set off with four layers of clothing down the wide Wadi Paran, walking on rounded pebbles.
As the wadi opened out into a plain, the trail veered left and after some walking, took me up Nahal Vardit. The sides of this valley closed in as I entered the narrow, and meandering Vardit canyon. Deep "pits" had been made in the canyon floor by the action of water swirling around as it forced its way through on the rare occasions of heavy rain. Today the first few pits were dry, but I reached one just before a ladder that had opaque green water in. There was no way around as it bridged the gap between the canyon's vertical sides. To reach the ladder it would mean wading or maybe swimming through. On such a cold day taking off my clothes to wade in and check the depth was not an inviting prospect. I decided discretion was the better part of valour and retraced my steps to where a trail climbed up to bypass the canyon. This was not without its drama, parts of the trail were along the canyon side with a steep drop you would not want to fall down.
Climbing up to and across the plateau led me after an hour or so to Barak Canyon. Descending the steep way down I met a group of people sitting down, they were actually two groups, one going up and one going down this popular route. They said there was one pit of water in the canyon and you could walk through it if you took you "pants" off (meaning trousers as I later realised). I joined them climbing down the dry waterfalls to the pit. At a suitable point I joined the men taking off their boots and trousers. I packed mine away in a dry bag with various valuables that I could not afford to become wet in the event I slipped crossing the pit and immersed myself complete with rucksack. Then I followed the men down some rungs and a ladder in my underpants (the ladies wanted me to go first). The water was clearer than at Vardit Canyon so I could see the bottom passed my boots (which were hanging around my neck). As directed by my helpful companions I entered the water and kept to the left. Soon I had climbed the rungs up out of the pit with only the bottom part of my underwear wet. My moment of glory was soon over, as I walked past the men I slipped, landing on my bottom on some smooth rock, the light canvas shoes I was wearing to keep my boots dry were fine for hotels but I discovered when wet they lacked grip on rocks polished by previous hikers. No harm was done except to my pride and I slid on my bottom to a safe place in which to dress.
The rest of the day was spent walking down the wadi as it broadened out, dotted with bushes and acacia trees, sometimes with small birds darting in and out of their branches.
I am now at Barak Night Camp. Not the most beautiful of spots but the next camp is not within walking distance and you are not allowed to pitch your tent outside these areas. So I settled in and after picking up water from where it was cached, pitched my tent in the wind.
26 kilometres walked today.
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