NORTHERN  ISRAEL--THE GALILEE, JORDAN VALLEY AND GOLAN HEIGHTS

I do not really know what to expect from Northern Israel as timeless Jerusalem is left behind and a northbound turn up the eastern spine of the country is initiated. Along the way, I am mindful of a double row of barbed wire, paralleled by a gravel road, trenches, watch towers, and electronic surveillance poles marking the Israeli security zone just west of the Jordan River. This remains the necessity of vigilance despite 37 years of peace with Jordan along the frontier.

 Somewhere along that path just north of Jericho, there is one of three crossings into Jordan at the pre-independence Allenby Bridge leading to Amman, capitol of Jordan.  The others are 300 kilometers to the south at Eilat, and 25 kilometers to the north, at Masu’a and the Adam Bridge.  The roads are top drawer at virtually every location.

I do not know Israel well geographically but am aware of plenty of names from Bible study years ago.  My destination is the primary scene for the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth.  Tiberius on the Sea of Galilee comes to mind as a hub.  There remain many towns, villages and hamlets that – while modernized – still speak to the living memory of the world’s greatest advocate and practicioner of Love.

I do not remember the exact location where I first noticed my first of these classical Biblical sites.  The sign to the side of the road was barely recognizable.  And there was too much traffic pushing from behind to allow for a photo op stop.  But there, off to my right somewhere near Ami’ad in a steeply sloped natural amphitheatre was the location – within view of The Sea of Galilee – where Jesus gave the “Sermon on The Mount” (or the Beatitudes, as they are referred to in Biblical lore).  The site was a natural for addressing a rapt audience.  It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

My journey continues north, basically without plan and without a care in the world.  I am in the Holy Land, just wanting to see whatever it is I am destined to see.  A turn left or to the west is made onto Highway 89 from Highway 90.  It is there I receive my first introduction to the beautiful Israeli wine country.

First stop is at Dalton Winery, a maker of premium kosher wines (850,000 bottles annually) first produced in 1995.  Kosher wines have special rules and regulations making them unlike any other kosher food.  Kosher wines must be created, bottled, opened, handled and poured only by Jews.  The exception to this rule is if the wine is heated to near boiling, the wine can subsequently be handled by gentiles.

The winery has a classy, high volume visitor tasting room with a generous pour policy.  It offers both red and white estate bottled wines with specialized “Diam” corks that help prevent oxidization of the product.  By this device there is less “corking” possible and the wine when opened is just as the winemaker intends.  It is here that I get my first taste, also, of true Israeli hospitality, warmth and friendliness  -- not quite as evident in big city Jerusalem.

Second stop is at nearby Rimon Winery, specializing in pomegranate wines.  The all female staff is once again warm and conversational – you often have them all to yourself – and the product is absolutely unique.  Health benefits of this wine are oft hinted at. I have to keep in mind the difficulty of traveling with bottles in limited pack space though.  The cost of $25 to $40 per bottle is also a deciding factor.  On this occasion, it will be memorable tasting only.

The real capper for my first day in the Upper Galilee however is at Adir Winery.  They are closed when I arrive.  I take a flyer anyway (that’s what those with a promotional mentality do) and wiggle through the still open door.  Yossi Rosenberg, the General Manager, decides to serve me anyway.  Nobody else remains in the tasting room.

I am treated to a Gold Medal awarded 2010 Bacchus shiraz, and a Double Gold Terravino 2008 cabernet.  Both are accompanied by an absolutely smashing chevre goat cheese with crackers, since the winery has a dairy side operation.  Yossi continues extending generous pours, all the while trying to close up and balance his young son under his arm.  He truly was one of my Road Angels on this lengthy journey!

This joyful ramble continues northbound, up obscure highway 886 and past other wineries until rejoining Highway 90 – the primary north/south artery leading all the way down to Eilat, nearly 350 kilometers distant.  It is at this junction that I first encounter the pristine Jordan River Valley.  Split by the river all the way down to the Dead Sea, this scrupulously green, lush, bright environment looks like an art director’s photo shop creation – straight out of the late Robin Williams movie “What Dreams May Come.”

There is no destination in mind.  More a matter of taking road signs and tourist arrows as clues, and just following what looks to be the most interesting path.  In short order, that appears to be the Lebanon border.  I make my way north past multiple signs saying “Danger: Do Not Pass” to the actual razor wire, pillbox and barricaded crossing at Matula.  In previous years, Druse Christian Israeli allies were located just across the multiple fences.  These days, their place has been taken by Islamic Hezbollah guerillas.

The guard posts on both sides are unmanned (though I am certain of being watched on closed-circuit television).  I raise my hands in the “V for Victory” salute, have a couple photos snapped, and take my leave from this eerily silent and vacant wasteland.  As dusk descends, my primary objective becomes finding housing for the night.

For the next three hours, hotels, motels, B & Bs, hostels, and whoever else might offer a bed and a shower are sought out for openings.  And that is where I learn there is no such thing as a cheap hotel in Israel, particularly not on a weekend, unless one has been procured well in advance on the internet.  Minimum pricing started at $125 nightly.

I drove around in my otherwise reasonably priced rental car seeking alternatives.  That included asking at restaurants and gas stations.  Eventually, after being referred to one of the many local farming kibbutzim for the night and finding even those too expensive, I run into another Road Angel.  Actually, a pair of them.

The first was Or Avnet, Manager at the Cookla Restaurant of the Dafna Kibbutz.  He called around and made inquiries about inexpensive or free housing for the night for nearly an hour – and still managed to see that his customers were served.  Finally, he found a friend who was away for the evening.  However, if I was able to actually find her apartment at the nearby Kibbutz Kearsold, I would have free lodging for the night. So my second Road Angel for the evening was (we never met in person) Karen Kestenband.

Or and I thrashed out directions to the kibbutz and then fashioned a loose map from Karen’s depiction by phone of how to reach her home.  This process took an hour.  Once inside the wired security fences and armed guard shack at Kibbutz Kearsold’s main gate, it took another hour to actually find her place.  This involved much door knocking at homes with lights to narrow the possibilities.  “Does anybody know where Karen lives,” inevitably followed by “Which Karen?”  Putting aside the pack and bags and finally getting to sleep was not possible until midnight.

A second day in the Galilee begins with a salmon croissant breakfast back at the Cookla Restaurant, as a means of thanking Or for his previous referral efforts and reassuring him the directions to Karen’s apartment had been fruitful.  And then a turn to the east is made, to tackle the Golan Heights.

Upon first sight of the Golan, it is perfectly obvious even to those without military training why this is such strategic ground and why it was so necessary for Israel to capture it at great sacrifice in the ’67 Six-Day War.  It is high ground across a broad front, bulging out like a tidal wave about to crest, and completely dominating the Jordan River Valley and Upper Galilee below.

Locals tell me prior to 1967 it was necessary to plant trees along the uphill section of virtually all lower elevation Israeli roads, to hide vehicles from Syrian gunners.  Gaps in the tree screen otherwise invited sniper shots and the occasional mortar barrage.  Security is just as much of a concern today.  The IDF is subtly present everywhere, and each dram of land that might be a tactical or strategic turning point has some sort of defensive embrasure sunk in there.

Still, the heights are beautiful.  It reminds me of Italy, with casual winding roads, stone and stucco homes, red tile roofs, villages with shop-lined main streets, occasional cypress trees, and relaxed people enjoying their coffee or mingling in public squares.  It is difficult to tell this is a security zone -- except for the obvious presence of the IDF.

Near the end of the road is the Swiss-like Druse community of Majdal Shams.  Beyond is the snow covered summit of Mt. Hermon.  Its southern slopes lay in Israeli occupied and administered land well below the peak (which at 2814 meters is the tallest in Syria).  A  United Nations military observation post called the “Mt. Hermon Hotel” rests in the military buffer zone between the two antagonists, the highest situated of any such post worldwide.

This land has been hotly contest since 1967, when Israel first captured it.  The terrain was briefly retaken by Syria on October 6, 1973 (during the first day of the surprise attack of the Yom Kippur War), only to be recaptured by Israel two weeks later.  A strong military presence, including numerous Israeli tanks, remains in the area.

On the lower slopes of the Israeli side are a seated dry luge run, used primarily in summer, a collection of shops and restaurants, and the Mt. Hermon Ski Resort.  Just uphill at 2224 meters is an Israeli strategic observation post called “Snow Lookout” or “The Eyes of The Nation,” the highest land under Israeli control anywhere in the country and critical to the IDF due to its early warning capabilities.

Adjacent to the northern border as one heads west away from the Golan, on Highway 899 near Yir’on, is my favorite Israeli winery.  Galil Mountain.  Just above the treetops, a mere 100 meters away, a Hezbollah observation tower can be seen rising above the neatly plowed fields of Lebanon.  This vintner is owned jointly by the Kibbutz Yiron and the Golan Heights Winery.  It was established in 2000 and produces about 1 million bottles of wine annually.

Galil sources its grapes from five vineyards in the Upper Galilee’s Hahoola Valley from primarily other kibbutzes.  In this varied landscape, the winery obtains an excellent cross section of terroir, offering differing elevations, precipitation levels, and soils.  The result is Israel’s most honored winemaking.  Over 20 of its creations have achieved Gold, Grand Gold or Trophy awards in international wine judging in the 14 years of its existence.  I am lucky enough to sample ten of them.

The varietals offered by Galil include Chardonnay/Viognier blends, Viognier, Saugivnon Blanc, Rose, Merlot, Syrah, Cabernet Sauvignon, Pinot Noir, Barbera, Red blends, and two flagship red wines that require further description.  These are the Meron, and the Yiron.  Prices range from $11.50 for the Galil Mountain Viognier (the Galil Viognier at $16 is preferable) to a surprisingly low $30 for the Yiron – the star of the fleet.

The Yiron mixes cab, merlot, cab franc and petit verdot and is aged for 16 months in French oak.  It is deep ruby red in color (my personal favorite) and has strong aromas of berry, blueberry and cassis with a background of vanilla, butter, and toasted oak.  The Meron mixes syrah, petite verdot and cab and features aromas of berry, blueberry, plum jam, cocoa, and crème de cassis.  Both are described as “setting the standard to aspire to” in Israeli winemaking.

My final stop in the Upper Galilee is in the extreme northwest corner of Israel at the Rosh Hanikra Grotto.  This is idyllically described as “A Love Story Where The Mountain Meets The Sea.”  Here soft chalk cliffs with shock-ripped underground gaps expanded by rainwater gradually opened to the sea.  Continuous wave action enlarged the gaps into caverns, now up to 200 meters in length.  The grottos are breathtakingly beautiful at all hours of the day and throughout every season.

Access is achieved via the world’s steepest cable car ride, which lasts two minutes and descends 70 meters from clifftop to wave crest at an angle of 60 degrees.  A stone’s throw beyond The Grotto is the Lebanon border.  Military security in the form of cameras, coiled barb wire, double fences, offshore buoys, electronic detectors and close-in naval patrols remind the visitor of their proximity to the border.

The Grotto is famous for a dubious act of sabotage which took place here on the eve of Israel’s national independence.  During the British Mandate of what was then Palestine, the need arose for a continuous link between The Middle East and Europe.  The British as the occupiers and protectors of Palestine, laid down a railroad track between the port of Haifa and Beirut in Lebanon to connect with existing rail lines.

This involved building 15 bridges along the route of the track, building supporting walls to fend off sea waves, and carving two tunnels through 200 meters of rock at Rosh Hanikra.  A railroad bridge was then suspended between the two tunnels at a point where the grotto openings achieve their greatest size.  This rail line served after the war to bring German prisoners of war back to Germany, and Jewish survivors from concentration camps into what would soon be Israel.

Once it became obvious in 1948 war was imminent after Palestine was to be divided into separate Arab and Jewish mandates, the Haganah (Jewish paramilitary troops who later became the IDF) were fearful the railroad and bridge would be used to transport Lebanese arms, munitions and troops into Israel.  Therefore the bridge was blown up.  It remains today as a yawning gap in the historic line, with the tunnel itself being sealed off well inside the Lebanese border.