Along. An Ancient Trail In. Palestine

Waikato Independent, Volume XXXIII, Issue 3044, 26 August 1933, Page 2

Along . An Ancient Trail In. Palestine

W J4U ;Travellers Conveyed Over A' Route Fraught With Sacred And Historic Associations

THE proper method of following the ancient way is by the ancient m way, which is to say —on foot, or Hat least with the humble assistance of 'ia donkey. Nowhere is that more Jtrue than about the southern shores Jof the Eastern Mediterranean, from Jjhaffa to Beirut. Nowhere in the world haste of any sort less desirable mhan here or less productive of the satMsfaction that should be yours at your 4very presence on these most ancient JLf ancient ways. « Walk here one should, indeed, yet Jmost of us are so enshacltled to habit fjcnd necessity that it is rarely practici’lable. That being the case, one must, s,aiong the ancient as well as the modrn ways, resort to the motor-car. And ound about Palestine and Syria aotoring is remarkably cheap; so heap, indeed, that it appears—from heir own eminent protestations —that to car owner makes even a frugal livng out of it. Nor can you help being touvinced when you find yourself , retired to pay only about the equivaent of 18/- for a 100-mile journey, and be cost of petrol nearly thrice that in •jj Thus along the ancient ways from 1 Jerusalem down to the Dead Sea, past the Mount of Olives, Bethany and Jericho; Jerusalem to Jaffa or to Haifa or to Beirut, anywhere and everywhere throughout the Holy Land the car, usually of American make, speeds along to-day, past donkey and camel train and such carts as have travelled these ways for more than 2000 years; past Moslem and Christian and Jew on foot, down the steep hills to the 3800-foot-below-sea-level plain of the

Dead Sea, across the fertile valley of Esdraelon and through the mountain passes of Lebanon.

Throughout the descent of more than 4500 feet from Jerusalem down to Jericho there is much dependence on the brakes, and you learn that the best are good for little more than a. month. In one place the road leads along the very edge of a gorge that is a mighty cut of incredible depth and width, bare of the least vegetation, sombre and soundless. Along its far side, overhanging a sheer drop of 1000 feet, winds a narrow path like an Alpine trail. Here perhaps is yet another of the ancient ways. The traveller over the roads of Palestine by local motor-car had best be forewarned that motoring hereabouts is properly characterised as “of sorts,” and that these vary greatly. Mostly of soft dirt, all the highways, especially those across the boundary in French territory, often become seas of mud. Especially is this so during the so-called “tourist season,” which is, as in many other parts of the world, the worst possible season for visiting the country. October, November, April and May are the best months for all Northern Arabia, yet most of the “de lux cruises” appear in January and February, when weather is most uncertain and unusually cold, rainy and raw. On one such morning I set forth by car from Jerusalem all the way to Beirut, hoping against hope to be so favoured as to achieve the journey of more than two hundred miles between dawn and darkness ("writes Marc T. Greene in the Baltimore "Sun”). But

that did not happen. Now this particular journey Is indeed along the ancient ways. A mile out of Jerusalem and one is at the brow of a hill whence the Holy City and all its environs, with! their physical beauty and their sacred and historic associations, lies in full and glorious view before one. Passing along the road to Nazareth there is more of history and association at almost every kilometre post until finally the fair and fertile drainage basin of the Nahr el Mukatta, the ancient River Kishon, is reached. Like the unwinding of a narrow ribbon, the way leads straight across through the rich wheat fields and up again into Nazareth, where, alas, no sooner have you come to a halt than 20 vendors of Jaffa oranges, British-made postcards, carved wood curios and imitation amber necklaces are upon you. You are hard put to it to shake them off that you may strive for a few minutes to absorb the ancient atmosphere of the place ere you are off again for the 20mile run to Haifa, where the vast harbour project is employing hundreds of repatriated Jews.

At Haifa it is necessary to change motors, and there is a long and voluble harangue in Arabic. It seems that an American cruising liner is in the offing and cars are about to be at a premium. We are compelled to change at least four times ere a car for the difficult road from Haifa is determined'upon. Then ensues an argument between the garage proprietor and the chauffeur in the course of which much acrimony develops. One of the passengers, a young French-Syrian, interprets. It appears that the chauffeur himself owns our car and that, of the fare which the four of us together are to pay for the entire Haifa-Be' M journey, the garage man insists spon about three-eighths. At this demand the driver protests, and a long delay ensues, with much garrulity and gesticulation.

However, we are off at last. The first of the way from Haifa is one of the strangest roads in the world. It is, in effect, no road at all, for it leads along the very edge of the sea. Now and then, to avoid a hummock of sand, the driver even detours into the surf itself and often the salt spray dashes over us. There are a dozen miles of this, and then, in the westering suu, the ’white and brown walls of ancient Acre loom before us, in striking silhouette against the sky. We regain dry land upon a highway of sorts and, hoping to make the French boundary before darkness, dash madly through the environs of the city of 40 centuries of history.

. And few miles more, and yonder a mighty promontory jutting forth into the white-flecked Mediterranean, is the “Ladder of Tyre,” the frontier mark between Palestine and Syria, English and French territory. And not far beyond is the Es Sur of today, the Tyre of yesterday. Little of it now remains,, but the outlines of the stupendous Mole of Alexander, whereby the conqueror ended the long and rich career of the Queen of the Seas, may be seen; and, in the gathering shadows the memories of uncounted years seem to cluster thickly about all that remains of once-mighty Tyre. And as we pass along this ancient way where the kings and conquerors and multitudes of 50 centuries have passed, with just such camel trains as these which make hesitant way for our modern automobile to-day, all that endures to remind of former Phoenician stands out sombrely the red and gold Mediterranean araiset. But with the darxness *omes steady rain, and we hurry through the outskirts of Saida to note little about this modern Levantine city to suggest that here stood the mother even of Tyre, itself, the mighty maritime city of Sidon, which held the homage of men for more than 15 Ovcnturies and which passed into history as a world power more than 3000 years ago-