“The Mediterranean is smaller now; today
the shoreline is a 100 metres further back,”
he says, explaining why the fishing village
seems further away from the water today. He
starts scanning the ground and, a few metres
later, swipes up a shell. “These hunting snails
secrete the mucus that’s used in indigo dye.
See the shelves in the rocks the Phoenicians
carved to grow and harvest them?” And just
like that he melds present and past.
We hop across the rocks, which are
as pitted as loofahs, towards the water’s
edge. Daniel magics a camping stove and
percolator from his rucksack and starts
brewing coffee. “You know, there’s a tradition
of collecting water from the Med, carrying
it with you and depositing it into the Sea of
Galilee at the other end,” he says, without
looking up. I gulp down the contents of my
water bottle and hobble towards the sea
that throws itself angrily against the shore.
Gingerly, I lower the bottle towards the
foaming mass, leaning just a little too far.
Wham! A rogue wave dumps a cascade of
freezing sea water over my feet and legs. I let
out a shriek so shrill the fishermen look to
the sky, scanning for seagulls. I squelch back
towards Daniel, full bottle held triumphantly
aloft. We drink the dregs of our coffee and
drive upriver; stowing my hard-won sea
water behind the seat of our driver, Meir.
By the banks of the swollen Kziv stream,
beneath a canopy of shivering golden maple
leaves, we meet Shai Koren, district manager
of the Upper Galilee region. His eyes and
khaki shirt are both wrinkled, both due tothe birth of his new son. The majority of the
trail passes are through reserves and parks,
and he knows their outlines as keenly as the
lines on his own hands.
“People started hiking Yam le Yam in the
1950s, but it didn’t become an official route
until a decade ago — and we’re finally on
the cusp of promoting it abroad. We’ll have
official signage and new zimmers (B&Bs)
outside the reserves for hikers; owners will
even pick you up and drop you off back
on the trail. In a few months, I’m going to
hike it in its entirety with my daughter and
son. We’re pushing them to get away from
computers and back to camping — to see the
night stars, not five stars!”
Managing areas of outstanding natural
beauty sounds like a cushy job, but as it
turns out, it can be a bit ‘Wild West’. “A
hunter once shot a foot above my head. I
asked for his gun — it was a mistake,” he
shrugs, philosophically.
Hunters come for the wild boar and fallow
deer, which were reintroduced from Iran in
the 1970s. “Israel is a bridge between three
continents and we have the wildlife to prove
it: gazelles from Africa, porcupines from
Asia and salamanders from Europe. And
when the birds migrate south, it’s the Great
Rift Valley they follow.” Throw in the striped
hyena, jackal and wolves and you’re in for a
really wild show.
We hitch a ride in Shai’s four-wheel-drive
vehicle and rumble upward to one of the
trail’s highlights: Montfort — a castle with
a crumbling watchtower that clings to theLEFT FROM TOP: The remains of the
Crusader era Montfort Castle, Kziv
Stream Nature Reserve; a view of the
eponomous waterway seen from an
observation point at Goren Park, Kziv
Stream Nature Reserve
ABOVE: Shai Koren, district manager
of Upper Galilee Israel Nature and Parks
Authority, standing on the Mediterranean
shoreline of Achziv National Park
ISRAELMay/Jun 2020 87