If you read one entry in this blog, let it be this one...
If a more eventful, exciting weekend ever happens to me, I have trouble imagining what it could possibly entail...
This story is one for Hollywood films, maybe even Bollywood. It includes soldiers, weapons, special effects, politics. There's the required blood and guts, the teeth clenching moments of danger, the posh lives of rich and famous celebrities and notables parading around in cocktail dressed and plastic faces. This story is one about potential and opportunity - moments that could have been tragic, opportunities that presented themselves unexpectedly. And somehow, amazing, this story is true, and it all happened this weekend.
I promise to TRY not to embellish, because really the facts speak for themselves...
After two months or Urban life, I needed some time in the wilderness. Chug Elad, the hard core hiking group that I had been introduced to in January, was hosting another hike. One core attraction to the group is that by going in large numbers, the group is able to hike in places that would be dangerous or inaccessibly to solo hikers. Ori told me we were going to the Shomron; in fact, he probably told me this three times. Somehow I thought this was like the Sharon - a geographical area in the center-west of the country. Somehow, in 6 months here, I had never learned that Shomron, in fact, means West Bank. Okay, so we were spending the weekend in the Occupied Territories. I've been there before, we're a large group, sababa.
My first shock came when I found out that many of the hikers had decided to take the precaution of bringing handguns with them. Some of my friends were carrying their registered weapons. Now, this is one of this typical Israeli experiences that I still have not become accustomed to.
Anyway, we arrived and began our hike near Ramallah. Ori and I went with the fast group who tends to head off in a rush with very few stops and a speed that impedes side conversation. After a few hours of hiking through the cliffs, we stopped overlooking a beautiful wadi and enjoyed our breakfast. We tended to lag near the back of the group, caught up in conversations and slowed by my more modest pace.
Sometime before lunch, (around 10:45 AM), a woman told us to catch up with the group. We were entering a more risky area and were advised to stick together and be alert. Just then, the zipper on my bag burst apart, sending its contents on a short journey. Eager to keep up with the group, we carried on with my bag in poor shape. We were entering a valley surrounded on all sides by high, rocky hills. With the bag held closed in my teeth, I used my arms to climb my way up the rocks and toward to the peak.
Just then, we heard another group member announce that someone had fallen and broken a leg. Being a Wilderness First Responder, I had an obligation to act. I tossed my bag on the ground and made my way carefully down to the patient.
The man who had fallen was in his 60s, in good shape. He was alert, calm and able to tell me about his fall. He had slipped about a meter and a half, landed for a moment, and then fallen again. His right ankle was twisted back, the bone jutting out just above the top, inside of his shoe. There was a little blood, but it was hard to determine its source. I debated for a bit with the other medic present, but we eventually decided that we had to see remove his sneaker in order to see the injury more clearly. Unable to keep his leg stable while we removed his shoe, Ori proceeded to cut apart the hiking boot in order to give us access to the injury.
It was about 11:30 at this time and the sun was relentless. No shade could be found and we had eaten breakfast quite early. Two hikers helped us shade the patient with an old blanket and we encouraged him to drink as much water as possible.
The injury exposed, we found the source of the bleeding and bandaged it tightly. Meanwhile, someone had long ago called the paramedics, search and rescue, the Red Cross (Called Magen David Adom in Israel) and the army. We were told that our location was too close to Ramallah and that the army did not want to risk sending a helicopter,
After about an hour in the sun, with the patient calm and lucid with a stable pulse, the first paramedic arrived...without morphine or other painkillers. From about a kilometer above us where cars were able to access, several medical personnel began climbing down the rocks towards us, each carrying medical equipment and automatic weapons.
It took about 7 medical professionals and volunteers to final realize that even with the three different types of stretchers they had brought down, it would be impossible and risky to carry carry the patient up and out of the valley. The going was steep and rocky, and his leg had to remain stable. The helicopter was called in again; this time the army agreed to come in about a half an hour.
With a one minute warning for the arrival of the helicopter, we scrambled to find a safe spot on solid ground. Even the wife of the injured man was bemoaning her lack of a camera! WE heard the machine before we saw it. . , and then from beyond the edge of one the mountains, an enormous, sleek black helicopter floated toward us. The wind swirled furiously, picking up bits of debris, dust, hats and forgotten trash. The helicopter circled a few times, trying to negotiate the least dangerous descent toward the injured man. Images of the film "Black Hawk Down" flashed before my eyes, and Ori confirmed that the copter was in fact a Black Hawk from the 669 Airforce Unit of the Israeli Army. AS it hovered near the ground, a panel in the bottom slid open, and four soldiers descended on a retractable metal cord. Wearing helmets and uniforms, and bearing huge machine guns, they carried medical supplies as they clung to the rope from the teetering black bird and jumped to the ground beside the patient.
Ori, unable to stand his own and my disappointment and the total absence of film, raced straight up the hill to retrieve his camera from the vehicles parked a kilometer above us. His friend doubted his ability to get back before the patient was evacuated, but we were lucky... the copter had to make three descents and we were able to photograph the final one where two soldiers accompanied the patient as his stretcher was lifted into the helicopter on the metal rope.
The spectacle complete, the Bedouin spectators dispersed and we regrouped at the top of the hill. It was now 2:15 and we had to walk quickly to reach our campsite before dark. We were hungry and drained from the sun, but we had to hike nearly three hours before we found a shady spot to eat.
There were about 7 or 8 of us walking together with a guide and the small group had a nice, communal feel. As we approached a road, we stayed close together and put Diego, our four legged group member, on a leash. Along the road, we were a bit tentative as we passed a group of three or four Palestinian men. They were friendly with us, however, with that overly anxious expressions of friendship and kindness that so frequently typify this sort of meeting. They asked for a bottle of our water which we eagerly offered and we joked about them joining us for the hike. As we said our "salaams" (us) and "Shaloms" (them), they called after us a final wish: "We hope no one throws stones at you."
The rest of the day finished with little notable events of this sort. We hiked through the beautiful hills, along the rocky dried river wadis and to a settlement called Rimonim. I wasn't that thrilled to be sleeping in a settlement, but given our location, the options were limited. Ori and I stayed out in the desert for awhile watching the sunset along the desert scape, scattered by Bedouin tents, Palestinian villages and a dew Jewish settlements.
The next day, we awoke early. Ori brought me coffee and biscuits in the tent and then we packed up the tents and headed back into the desert. We hiked through fields of endless wildflowers, dotted with red poppies and yellow, white and purple flowers that I couldnt name. There were thorny purple cactus blossoms, and giant black flowers looking like velvet that trapped bugs deep inside their grip.
We passed Bedouin tent villages and herds of sheep and goats. At one point, our fried Assaf stopped to chat with a group of boys on their way to school. It seemed hard to imagine that a school existed within walking distance! The boys ranged in age from four or five to maybe 16 or older. They had some textbooks with them, and ASsaf leafed through them, reading chapter titles about biology and chemistry.
We began a long descent. Waling down through the desert wash, the sides of the caves rose on either side of us and at times we proceeded extremely carefully along steep cliffs of loose scree and slippery edges. Partway down, we entered a cave, formerly home to monks and pilgrims. In one cave, we slithered deep inside using head lamps to light our way as we crawled from room to room. The ground was covered with deep, soft ashy material and probably a lot of bat feces! At one point, my fellow explorers went off to search for another tunnela nd I was left alone in a cavernous room to contemplate the utter darkness and the swirling bats around me. It was amazing.
Lacking futher tunnels to explore, stifled by the heat of the cave (and Ori less than thrilled that a bat had mistaken him for a wall...) we made our way back out and searched for a cozy lunch spot. We found one amid the sides of the cliff. A few of us ate together, sharing hummous, vegetables, olives and pita.
I am beginning to love this group of hikers more and more, in spite of my conern about their lack of preparedness in the emergency. (If I go again, Im bringing medical equipment!) Noentheless, the group is filled with such fascinating, eclectic people with stories to tells and many lives lived. In spite of the fierce individualism and independent spitit that typifies the group, i feel very much supported and cared for there.
