As the Egged bus wound its way from the top of the hill, we passed a sign marking the point where we were now below Sea Level. Still many meters below us, along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, lay the town of Tiberias. As soon as I saw it, I realized that the municipality was simply too diminutive to keep my attention for the three days I'd planned there. On my way from the depot to my hostel, I happened upon an Avis rent-a-car office. I went in and asked for a quote beginning the day after tomorrow. Cutting my reservation short by one day wasn’t nearly as much of a problem at my hostel as speaking English. Settled into my room, I set off for the shore.
Again, as with so many things in Israel, I was amazed by the dwarfish "Sea". From the top of the hill above Tiberias, you can see the entire body of fresh water, and although the lake is 8 miles in breadth at its widest point, you can still observe the opposite side regardless of vantage point. Although Tiberias has a long and rich history, there isn’t much evidence of it today; historic temples have been replaced by hokey high-rises, and the town of 30,000 caters primarily to tacky tourists. As I walked the shoreline “Promenade”, I witnessed hundreds of cosmetic-caked pre-pubescent girls cackling in some sort of singing competition. I was immediately turned-off by the spectacle. It felt as if I could’ve just gone to a shopping mall in the States instead.
But I had to remind myself, this is the Sea of Galilee…the stuff of Sunday school legend…and I was determined to get out to the sites sacred to the ages. At that time, the best course of action seemed to be renting a bicycle from the hostel. The next morning, after using the English-speaking owner as an interpreter between the desk clerk and myself, I procured a satisfactory Schwinn. Two younger guys saw me, and followed me to the bike storage so that they too could rent rides. Already quite warm outside, my agenda wasn’t as ambitious as their plan to circumnavigate the Sea. I wished them good luck, and before I set off, I returned to the Avis office to reserve my car for the next day. By the time I was really on the road, I’d managed to catch up to one of the young men, a 22 year-old Kiwi named Chris. He was biking slowly because his other friend, Gabriel (from Brazil, not the Peruvian Gabriel I met in Jerusalem) got a flat tire and had to return for a replacement cycle. I told him I was planning to stop at Tabgha, the Mount of the Beatitudes and Capernaum before returning to Tiberias. We ended up riding together, talking about our Israeli experiences thus far. When we got to Tabgha, where the Altar of the Loaves and Fishes is at (the place where Jesus fed the multitudes) we dismounted and parked our bikes at the foot of the Beatitudes Mount. We followed the trail up to the church built on the Spot of the Sermon on the Mount. The chapel itself is serene, but the views of the lake are phenomenal. Besides the Beatitudes, the cornerstone of Christ’s teachings, I was also reminded of the fact that it was in this place where common phrases like “Salt of the Earth” and “Judge not, lest ye be judged” were uttered. I think both Chris and I recognized a spiritual ambience there.
The way back down the Mount wasn’t as easy for us as the way up, and we got lost on a fruit farm, our descent blocked by banana and mango trees. Chris plucked a couple of bananas from a hand, tossed one toward me and exclaimed, “Lunch!” Looking over my shoulder, I stuffed it in my knapsack and asked, “Did we really just steal bananas from this holy mount?” But, my guilt soon subsided when we came across a farmhand planting mango trees to ask for directions. He was so excited to present the fruits of his labor to us that I thought, “Surely he wouldn’t mind us nicking a couple of bananas.”
By the time we finally made it through the brambles and briars down to the main road, Gabriel was there waiting on us. This was when both of them talked me into joining them for the long-haul, 34 miles around the Galilee back to Tiberias. Gabriel kept asking, “When will you have a chance to do this again?” and Chris seconded it with “Yeah man, you gotta do it! Then you can say you biked around the entire Sea of Galilee!” I said, “I guess you’re right” and we pedaled on to Capernaum.
The well-preserved ruins of Capernaum are a sight to see, and they represent a consensus of scientists and spiritualists as being a definite place where Jesus conducted His ministry. It was here that he recruited five residents as Apostles; four fishermen named Peter, Andrew, James and John, and one ostracized tax collector called Matthew. After taking a few photos, we were again on our bikes and headed to the northern inlet of the river Jordan. Sweaty and craving a cooling dip, we were put off by the dirty trash-laden waters of the small stream. After drinking some of our own bottled water, we decided to keep on truckin’ until we came to a suitable swimming spot. Scoping out the shoreline, it wasn’t for another 10 miles of so that we came across a picturesque looking spot called Kursi Beach. Merely looking for the shortest route in, we didn’t realize we’d snuck in without paying the entrance fee. But, no one bothered us, not even the gatekeeper when we left through the proper port.
Up until we got to the eastern shore of the lake, I had my doubts as to how a tempest of the biblical proportions I’d read about could happen. But, as we paddled in the cool waters, the west wind was generating immense waves, literally large enough to surf on. We all discussed this phenomenon over a light picnic afterward. Already feeling worn-out, but impressed with myself for keeping up with two in-shape 22 year olds up to that point, I informed them that if I had the power of Christ, I would have left them behind and simply biked across the water by now.
But, with miracles failing to materialize, I once again set off with my supportive compatriots along the road. The heat was starting to get to all of us, and I openly noticed that there were no other cyclists on the road, but we pressed on. At the southern mouth of the Jordan, I convinced Chris and Gabriel to make a pit stop at Yardenit, a touristy Baptism spot. As soon as we arrived, I knew that American Protestants had to have a partnership in the site. It was very touristy, to the point that it almost seemed like a sort of religious Disneyland, but, at least the river was clean, and we even saw some large catfish and otters.
Returning along the southwestern Galilean shore, the same west wind that had provided such enjoyable waves back at Kursi was proving to be a harrowing headwind. Absolutely sore by the time we reached Tiberias, I was so happy to have completed the journey that I told the guys to clean up so I could take them out for a couple of Brewskis.
After hitting a British expat pub called Big Ben, we decided to walk together along the Promenade one last time. When we got to the end of the boardwalk, an older American couple asked us when the light show was going to start. None of us had heard about the Sound and Light show. So, as the crowd of tourists gathered, we decided to stick around and see what all of the fuss was about.
The sound and light show was so insipid that it was hilarious. Outdated by at least a score, it features ho-hum fountains and inflatable Palm trees, some of which are inoperable. The announcer preps you in English with “The Sound and Light Show will shortly commence. It features ethnic rhythms couple with modern beats.” We couldn’t help but joke about it with one another, although the Russian tourists standing next to us kept tapping me on the shoulder and saying, “Very Beautiful, No?” Smirking, I just said, “Da”
