Yesterday at dusk and this morning I was under sustained attack by mosquitoes after my blood. This made me pack up very quickly while simultaneously swatting at mosquitoes. A big spodge of (my) blood meant I had killed one after she had done her worst. I was generally put in a poor mood, not helped by the complicated path going over rocks up and down the side of the hill, difficult to follow with all the twists and turns despite frequent waymarks. I was glad the next bit of track was on a vehicle track beside a banana plantation. The bunches of bananas were covered in plastic and the whole plantation was under fine netting, patched up in places where presumably some animal had tried to get in.
Reaching Ein Hod my mood changed from black to golden for two reasons. Firstly the village was populated with a wide range of sculptures, many causing me to stop and admire, intrigued at what the artist had produced and was maybe trying to say. Secondly there was a shop selling cups of coffee (and a banana and chocolate).
Thus fortified I followed little paths up and down hills covered with bushes and shrubs, over large rocks, beside, between and below limestone outcrops. I passed two parties of school children dressed in blue, being lectured about something. Outdoor hikes seem more part of the school curriculum in Israel than in Britain.
To reach the town of Isfiya the trail took me up a stream bed over dry waterfalls. There were some rungs and rails cemented into the rock to help you up, needed as the rock was slimy and slippery. It reminded me of the desert section of the trip except here I was surrounded by trees.
I reached Isfiya at 1:30 pm, too early to stop, so after a hot dog and coke I continued downhill towards the village of Yagur. Although it was a short distance away the path was like a concertina, zigzaging down the hill among the trees, consequently it took me rather longer than expected, not helped by intermittent rain. Once down at Yagur it was fast progress across the valley to Kfar Hasidim. I then continued a little way beyond this village, climbing up through dense bushes until I found a suitably flat piece of cow pasture near the top of a hill to pitch my tent. Only problem, other than avoiding cowpats, is the strong, gusting wind. I pitched my tent pointing into it, but the wind has now changed direction and is hitting me broadside, flexing the tent's single pole back and fore, sometimes violently. Hope the DAC aluminium sections of the pole do not snap...
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