A short walk in the Makhtesh Ramon

---

Desert walks, even short ones, are not for the fainthearted. For someone who has walked in the New Zealand wilderness - for three times as long in a day, and with three times as much weight on their back - the sun, sand, stones, sights and sounds of a desert environment can unproportionally be more burdensome and can play with ones mind. We were in Southern Israel, the Negev Desert which covers 63% of the country. In the Negev lies the depression known as the Makhtesh Ramon, a massive naturally-formed crater from millions of years of flooding, folding and rising upon the landscape. It used to be home to an ancient sea in fact. Mile after mile of walking tracks cover criss-cross the crate, popular with Israelis and foreign tourists alike. Multi-day hikes are available with water drops etc. The human history of the crate is also of significance, with evidence of pre-Common Era habitation and later the crater formed part of an incense trading route controlled by the Nabataean peoples, connecting the Arabian Peninsula with the Mediterranean ports in Gaza.

The walk we had in mind had been suggested to us by the visitor centre in the nearby town of Mizpe Ramon, a walk of moderate length of a couple of hours. The midday sun was beating down when we departed the carpark that was within sight of an ancient Nabataean caravan way station. The track took us down a wadi (dry river bed), a few stagnant pools the only obvious signs of water. Hour One was fun and easy, bounding up rocks for panoramic photo opportunities and we had the energy for tomfoolery. Not long after meeting an Israeli family and having been interrogated about the amount or water we were carrying, a seed of doubt was planted in my mind about our state of preparedness. Three litres between two of us, it felt enough, even with my unilateral decision to leave a 500ml bottle in the car if necessary for the return journey on gravel roads to town. That was the first mistake. The Israeli father told us two hours to the road end (it was a circuit), and a slight cautionary twist of his head was the subtle subconscious generator of doubt. They had young kids with them, leading me to believe that it would have slowed them down.

We went on our merry way, and as minute passed it grew hotter and we grew tired. Seeking refuge at the foot of giant boulders, dislodged from the river bank, we started rationing water before heading off again in the fierce heat. Then another factor came into play that fueled anxiety. The colours of the trail markers began to alternate between the colour desiganted for our particular trail and another trail further up, at least according to our map. The trail colours had been explained to us, but not the dual colour coding. Each bend ahead would seem to suggest a turn to the left, which, according to the map marked the 2/3 point. But the more we chose one of those bends as a potential turning back point, the further we were getting along the trail, making a return trip longer. At least we were familiar with the return trail, confident of recognising features along the way. But, down to 1/2 litre each, a anxiety was slowly spiralling downwards. Adding to this was the plain unfamiliar natue of the environment. At least back in New Zealand it would be known that water was nearly always present, on non-alpine routes at least. But it was psychological to the extent that the Israeli family had initiated the cycle, not having met them and it would have been fine.

At last, a green marker indicating the 2/3 point. Confidence boosted, we traipsed on, remaining economical with the water however. We returned to the car after an epic three hour walk. This still did not stop me from snapping at my buddy, a sure sign that irritation had set in during the walk, but that was now released. Nothing went wrong, but in unfamiliar territory in harsh environs taught me a valuable lesson in preparedness, and helped me appreciate the same sort of anxieties that affect foreign walkers in my own country.

---