Day 6 - February 24 - Below Sea Level
At seven in the morning, I left the kibbutz. You might have seen the wide-wide road on the Israeli side on the fence - and hordes of other cyclists took advantage of this.
I was now riding through areas of mixed ethnicities, there were settlements with many mosques, but, unfortunately, I saw plenty of slums as well.
About 50 kilometers after having left Neta, I arrived in Arad, a quite affluent city - which, as I found out later, is the gateway to the Dead Sea. I had some authentic shoarma, got some supplies and headed onwards.
What followed was a major highlight of the trip - and this was the dtop to the Dead Sea. Arad was at a height of 616 meters (note: above sea level) and the first settlement at the bottom is at -374 meters (below sea level) - so there is a drop of close to one thousand meters. It was fun to see the engravings next to the road, signaling the elevation. Let the photos speak for themselves.
If I had ridden the stretch to the bottom without stopping, I would have needed maybe three quarters of an hour, but I stopped almost at every bend to marvel at the scenery and take photos. It was tough the select the ones I am showing...
Still, here are some more...
People travel by camels, I zoomed in to the take this photo...
...then there are sheep gazing rocks 😃
...and then there are people who are a lot cooler than I am - here a mountain biker rolling down a dirt path:
Anyhow, I did reach to the bottom - where everything became flat. Now I was 400 meters below the surface. Here I had a choice to make - either I ride north, towards the beaches of the Dead Sea and Masada, the fortification that tried to fend off the Romans a couple of centuries (say twenty) ago, or I turn south. Well, even though a Dead Sea swim is a highlight, I had done it on my first trip and also had visited Masada. What was putting me off was the price of accommodation. The cheapest price I found was around €200, which was not really worth it. I tossed a coin and decided to head not north, but the exact opposite direction, yes, you guessed, south.
So there I was, happily riding in the basis on the Dead Sea, with the mountains of Jordan facing me. For a while, this went well, but somehow I ignored the fact that I had dropped one thousand meters - so...so...maybe I just tried to suppress it, what comes down, must go up - yes, there was a major, major climb ahead. And it was not too early either thanks to those countless photos.
It was 3:30 pm when I started the uphill battle, so I about two hours of sunlight left that day. The scenery was unparallable.
Later, this became even more dramatic.
...so much beauty in just one day.
Around half past five, I saw a nice sunset - as you can see, there was not a whole lot of traffic.
Well, this day I did ride into darkness, as there was no dwellings whatsoever. I turned on my tiny light I had bought in Tel Aviv, I guess I would have been fine without it, as there was hardly anyone out there to hit me. On the right side of the road, there was a fenced military area, think it is a nuclear testing zone, signs warning not even to stop next to the road. Well, nature urged me to step aside for a short pit stop, no sirens were to be heard. I eventually reached the town of Dimona.
It was Friday evening, the beginning of Shabbath. I found a hotel, the entrance of which was locked shut - the receptionist opened it up a bit and told me there would be a place further uphill. I tried navigating there will Google Maps, but the phonetic spelling the receptionist gave did not match that of Google. I found some Jewish teenagers walking, I asked for help, they refused to use the cell phone, it being prohibited to do any type of work on Shabbath. I did find another Jewish person, he was keen to help - so probably was less religious. The place I was sent to was open, but there was no one at the reception. A while later, a very short guy showed up, he did not speak any English, as it turned out, he only spoke Arabic. I tried a translate program, to no avail. So we called my relatives, who got the scare of their life. "Do you have a relative called Balazs?" asked the guy. They thought I had been kidnapped! Well, soon the confusion was cleared and I got a nice room for yet another €100.
I had ridden some 133 kilometers, but was only 60 kilometers away from where I started - as the crow flies. The "detour" to the Dead Sea (riding downhill) and back (struggling back up) was a wonderful one, was absolutely worth it.