We’re in the middle of the festival of Succot and here in Israel most people are on holiday for at least some of the eight days. It’s been filthy hot for the last week, unseasonably high temperatures of around 35 degrees and more, combined with exhausting levels of humidity. You feel you have to walk slower, talk slower, sleep more and seek air-conditioning at every opportunity.

Tens of thousands of people take the chance to holiday locally and the roads can be one massive overheated car park. It’s essential to get out on the highways and byways as early as possible to avoid a day of simmering frustration.  If you’re looking for natural air conditioning , then the very north of Israel is probably your best chance to get a lung full of clear, cooling air – at night, at least.

I’ve just returned from three days with my wife and daughters, and my in-laws, staying in delightful bed and breakfast ‘tzimmerim’, the country cottage accommodation that is so popular over here for short breaks. We chose a lovely location in the village of Kfar Yuval, one of the most northerly points of the country, a spot that encompasses both the Upper Galilee and the Ramat HaGolan. This is not the Israel that is regular portrayed on the news. This is the Israel of farming communities, of vast fruit plantations, of a network of crystal clear rivers set against the background of Mount Hermon and the Golan Heights, the border between Israel and its neighbours Lebanon and Syria. Our cottage was only 500 metres from the Lebanese border. On the hillside above us there was no problem seeing with the naked eye the large, even palatial homes, that have been built by the villagers of Southern Lebanon. 

The dangers and tensions of this border area have been well documented and no-one needs reminding of the nasty conflict that enveloped the region in 2006. Hizbollah remains the dominant power the other side of the fence, with reports of between 20,000 to 40,000 missiles having been embedded in the villages and bunkers of an area that is supposed to be patrolled and kept free of military materiel by the UN. The erstwhile ‘independent arbiter’ has conveniently turned a blind eye to the movement of weaponry from Iran and Syria, to the Lebanese militia.

Kfar Yuval is a farming village populated mostly by Cochin Indians, Jews who originate from the Indian state of Kerala and who came to this northerly point of Israel in the 1960’s. The place has a slightly tattered feel about it, but has no shortage of charm, every house in the village supplemented by a fruit grove, a large chicken coop, or holiday accommodation. In 1975, terrorists managed to breach the border patrols and laid in wait for an opportunity to kill. They succeeded in murdering three members of the same family before fleeing back into Lebanon. This notorious act might have been designed to persuade the villagers to up sticks and leave, but it only served to fortify their resolve to stay and continue to pursue their livelihood and support their families as best they can.

But this weekend, armed conflict and fear could not have been further from our minds. The scenery was stunning, the weather a shade cooler than in the stifling centre of Israel, and Kfar Yuval and the surrounding area is an absolute haven for those looking to stretch their legs and walk on nature trails, to swim in rivers, or to follow the natural phenomenon of up to 50 million migrating birds from Europe using northern Israel and the Hula Lake as a stopping off point on their autumn migration to warmer climes.

If you want to get involved in something a little more lively there are numerous sporting activities such as horse riding, mini tractor tours, climbing, winter skiing and river kayaking, the latter being our first activity of the day on Saturday. Being a non-swimmer, the prospect of swirling hopelessly downstream didn’t exactly fill me with joy, but having been assured that the river is no more than a metre-and-a-half deep at this time of year, I felt it would be bordering on cowardice not to join the others. We rented a six person dingy/kayak, watched the safety video, donned life jackets and prepared to be fired down a ramp into the crystal clear waters of the River Snir.

Since measures were taken over the last couple of years to limit the amount of water that can be taken from the River Jordan and it’s tributaries for agriculture, the flow of water has increased significantly and I was surprised at just how healthy the river looked. With the in-laws at the front, my girls Tami and Maya in the middle, and Paz and I at the back (is that the stern or the bow of a boat?), we were launched on our way without the faintest sniff of a champagne bottle in sight. This was not white-water rafting, but a gentle paddle south, punctuated by the occasional mini-waterfall or swirling eddy. (You remember ‘swirling eddy’, he was Nelson’s boy, I think).

Every few hundred metres encampments of tented teenagers and young Israelis dotted the river bank and there was plenty of banter. I tried to order a Turkish coffee from a couple on one muddy slope, but by the time they had got the cups out we’d already drifted away. Further downstream someone was making a barbeque and said they would do us a kebab if we could hold on against the flow. We couldn’t.

The river banks were teaming with bulrushes, (no signs of babies in baskets though), bamboo, fig trees, eucalyptus and more. There were fish in the river, but none were prepared to sacrifice themselves by leaping into our craft. Dragonflies, a brilliant electric blue colour, fluttered around glistening in the sunlight. It was an idyllic scene, until Tami, my fearless, sporty, older daughter, decided to jump in and cool down. Her hysterical laughter, at not being able to get back into the dinghy until the third attempt, was priceless. My father-in-law inadvertently hit his missus at least three times with the other end of the paddle whilst concentrating on guiding us away from the riverbank and overhanging trees. I nearly knocked Paz backwards off the end of the dinghy whilst grappling with a stronger current, and Maya and Tami were just determined to get completely soaked and really cool off - which they did.

This was the perfect activity for a hot, steamy day. There’s not enough time to list the excellent restaurants and all the other activities we packed in, (a visit to a wooden instrument maker in Rosh Pina was tremendous, a private concert on the didgeridoo, harp, marimba and other handmade items was great), but suffice it to say that when next you come to Israel, you must go north to the Upper Galilee and the Ramat HaGolan.

The north of Israel is a truly stunning area with so much to see and do, yet still remains mostly undiscovered by so many visitors who miss out on a huge chunk of the ‘real Israel' by only concentrating on Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Netanya. They really don’t know what they are missing.

 

 


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