On a beautiful day in December we decided it was time for us to start hiking again. We used to hike often, especially during the COVID-19 pandemic, but since
losing Gadi it has been hard to find the will. The bright sunny weather on this particular weekend gave us the extra push to get up and start walking, along with the knowledge that Israel's winter flower season was just beginning.
I chose a short but beautiful hike on Tel Kesalon, in the Jerusalem Hills. Kesalon is a biblical site mentioned in the
Book of Joshua as part of the northern border of the territory allotted to the
tribe of Judah:
Then it curved westward from Baalah to Mount Seir, ran along the northern slope of Mount Jearim (that is, Kesalon), continued down to Beth Shemesh and crossed to Timnah -
Joshua 15:10
Kesalon was a large Jewish village during the
Roman period in Israel. In 1596 Kisla, as it was then known, was a village in the subdistrict of Ramla with a population of sixty-one. It paid taxes on wheat, barley, sesame, and fruit trees as well as on goats and beehives. Most of what is visible on Tel Kesalon today is the remains of an Arab village called Kasla, which was conquered during the War of Independence in 1948. The ruins, including crumbling walls and terraces, add a historical charm to the natural landscape.
The nearby modern moshav of Kesalon, founded in 1952, is named after this site. New immigrants from Yemen, brought to Israel in
Operation Magic Carpet, were given farmland there, but abandoned the moshav a few years later to join members of the Yemenite community living in
Rosh Ha'ayin. Their place was taken by Jewish immigrants from Morocco.
We started our hike by climbing the
tel itself. A
tel is a mound or small hill that has been formed over time by layers of settlement. The view from the top, of Moshav Kesalon on one side and Moshav Beit Meir on the other, was fabulous. A
Jewish National Fund forest was planted around Tel Kesalon and the surrounding area, named
Ya'ar Hakdoshim (Forest of the Martyrs). It commemorates the victims of the Holocaust and contains six million trees, symbolizing the six million Jews who perished. Planting began in 1946 and memorials for perished communities are set throughout the forest. There are various springs in the area and the Kesalon stream passes on the north side of the hill, more than 200m below the summit. Almond trees grow on top of the
tel and cactuses grow along the site's southern slopes.
We climbed back down Tel Kesalon and began our hike. I immediately spotted pale pink
sitvanit hayoreh (Steven's meadow saffron), one of the first flowering plants of the autumn, and clusters of
rakefot (Persian cyclamen). As we hiked further along the path I glimpsed
karkom (winter crocus) and bunches of white narcissus blooms (
Narcissus tazetta or Paperwhite) growing among the rocks. We passed a spring, its water tinted green by algae, and headed towards Ein Kesla, a stone pool carved around a natural spring. In late December the pool was still dry.
After a while it was time for us to retrace our steps and head back towards Tel Kesalon and our car. The rocky path along the side of the valley was precarious at times, but the views over the deep valley of the Kesalon stream were once again breathtaking. We then returned to the path we had started our hike on, but this time it circled around the other side of the
tel, ultimately reaching the hilltop where we had started out earlier in the day.
It was time for lunch in one of the many picnic areas of the Forest of the Martyrs. Although it was December, just a few days before Christmas, the pleasant weather had drawn many people outdoors. As we picnicked, we spoke about Gadi and how much he would have enjoyed the hike. Pushing ourselves to return to the great outdoors felt right, and we were glad we had taken that step.