I dawdled a bit this morning. Before checking out I bought some bakery goods for lunch and checked where to catch the number 19 bus, to take me back to the trail (which was not from where it dropped me off). On the bus it seems I did not swipe my bus pass card in the right place and a "ticket" inspector swiped it for me (embarrassing, hope he did not think I was trying to avoid paying). After walking a short distance, this way and that down a slope a cafe beckoned and I had another coffee. Later it was an ice cream from a trailer. After walking for so many weeks in remote areas, I was taking advantage of the available refreshment opportunities. There were several changes of track, requiring a bit of concentration, which I lacked, so lost in some pleasant thoughts I missed a junction and added a few kilometres to my day.
Several coaches were parked by Ein Bakura, an area of terraces held in place on the hillside by stone walls. The terraces were planted with trees and populated by large numbers of Ultra Orthodox children, the boys with their curly sidelocks and little skullcaps. There was a small reservoir constructed with stone walls below what might have been an underground water cistern (children were blocking my view). Some of the older boys stripped down to their underpants (boxer style I noted) and took it in turns to jump into the reservoir from the wall several feet above the water level, by a sign that said "no swimming". As I climbed the trail I noticed that unlike most Israelis who said hello, shalom or some greeting I failed to recognise, the Ultra Orthodox men seemed to avoid my catching my eye, not all but most.
Leaving them behind the trail took me through the Tzuba Kibbutz and its helpful signs describing the history of some of the buildings. The trail waymarks were erratic and I found myself in a vineyard off the correct route. After seeing me walk one way and then walk back to try another, some helpful staff stopped their little golf buggy (a popular means of getting around in these kibbutz) and explained how to rejoin the trail. This led me into the Judean Mountain Park, where I followed a 4x4 track along a steep sided valley covered with pine trees (Aleppo Pines according to a sign). A large group of more mature people from Tel Aviv were walking the Israel National Trail in sections in the opposite direction to me. I ended up saying a lot of "hellos" and "shaloms" to the stretched out group of friendly hikers as they walked by.
The forest was paid for by donations from people from across the world to the Jewish National Fund. There were numerous plaques naming the donors (with room for more if you are so inclined) at one picnic area in particular. After a memorial to Anne Frank (paid for by donors from the Netherlands) and one for other Holocaust victims, it was a steep climb out of the valley. The yellow sun was dropping low in the sky turning the pine needles a warmer shade of green. Tired, with my right ankle giving me some pain, and with sunset fast approaching, I failed to reach my intended destination near Messilat Zion, but found a pleasant site with picnic tables just before Mount Orna to camp.
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