Walking Lebanon

Three years ago, as part of my extended farewell to a country I loved passionately, I participated in a month-long, 480-kilometer walk from one end of Lebanon to the other. From Marjeyoun, we wound north, snaking across the southern Bekaa and then up, over and along Mount Lebanon, all the way to Aandquet. Following the Lebanon Mountain Trail, we stayed with families, enjoying their bountiful hospitality, seeing a side of the country that I suspect even many Lebanese do not know exists. Daily, we were witness to Lebanon’s immense natural beauty, and cultural and historical wealth – all of which, lamentably, is suffering sustained attack. After 19 years in Lebanon as a journalist, the country I encountered was so much richer than I ever imagined. I am now recording those memories, and others, in my book, Walking Lebanon. Delivered in weekly installments, it is free to read on my website at singhbartlett.com/news. I invite you to walk (vicariously) with me.

The Old Man in the Tree He says his name is Abu Dehin and he gives us green almonds as we pass and then invites us to sit and have some matte, then regales us with stories of life in Hasbaya’s police. He kisses a Lebanese flag, magicked out of somewhere, and tells us we are all children of the same God and then, with a salute, bursts into a rousing rendition of “Kulluna lil Watan” as we continue our walk.

Battle Scars Lebanon’s ruins aren’t all ancient. These trenches were excavated by the Syrians. They’ve seen better days but when it comes to leaving a legacy, concrete is not the best choice. Not that the soldiers who dug them were thinking of that. They were probably more worried about surviving winters or Israeli bombardment. Shallow and exposed, I wondered how much they protected against either. My guess? Less than a wing but (possibly) more than a prayer.

And Then, There Was Silence Lake Qaraoun attracts tens of thousands of migratory birds, who come here to rest and mate on their way to and from Africa. When we crossed it on the way to our own rest that evening, the only mating behavior we observed was human. The water reflected a long, sliver of a cloud and the young cypress were in perfect silhouette and for a moment, there wasn’t a sound in the world.

Remembrance of Things Past Lebanon is no stranger to mass relocations. Take the Christians of Majdel Balhiss. They decamped for Canada decades ago, but their church remains open. Likewise, the Muslims of Aaitanit began leaving over a century ago, but their prayer room remains. Neither church nor musalla are used, but both are still cared for by villagers, testament to Lebanon’s tradition of coexistence, a history stronger, more deeply rooted and more important than its history of conflict sometimes suggests.

Torn The Qannoubine Valley is a gigantic tear in the landscape, one of many rift valleys in Lebanon. As impressive as it is, Qannoubine is far shorter than its big sister, the Bekaa, the northernmost extent of the Great Rift Valley that begins down in northern Mozambique. What Qannoubine lacks in size, it makes up for in drama and from the top of Jabal el Makmel to the valley floor, the drop is a vertiginous 1,700 meters.

Here Be (Not) Dragons With landscapes like these, it’s easy to understand why the ancients saw mythical creatures everywhere. The Greeks claimed a giant wolf inhabited the Nahr el Kalb gorge, explaining the howling noise it made on stormy nights (hence its modern name). Early Christians believed St. George supposedly left his dragon outside the Al Khodr Mosque, opposite the Forum. As for modern Lebanon, the only mythical beings it believes in appear once every four years (or so) on Nijmeh Square.

Duke of Hazzard The car, I mean. Not the house. Though it is fit for a duke. But then Jezzine is full of beautiful old homes. The aristocratic arcades of the Kenaan Palace caught my eye, but it was the lime-colored car parked insouciantly in front that made the shot. Whose was it? The family tearaway’s? Some “funny uncle” experiencing a midlife crisis? There was something so delightfully decadent about it that I had to take the snap.

Stairways to Heaven In Lebanon, you’ll find agricultural terraces everywhere. These beauties are north of Jezzine. You’ll often come across old, disused or even ruined terracing, too, but where they are still in use, the intricate Escher-esque geometries they form can be mesmerizing. Recent archaeological research suggests that Lebanon may be home to some of the oldest terraces in the Mediterranean and some of those in the Batroun region may have been there for more than 12,000 years.

A Patient Man On a pine-forested hilltop near Niha sits the Shrine of Nabi Ayoub, Job, in English. He allegedly lived here for seven years until the Angel Gabriel split open a rock beneath today’s shrine and told Job to bathe in the water that emerged. It cured his afflictions and made him 50 years younger. “Did it?” I asked the sheikh. “Where is the spring now?” “Ah,” he replied, eyes twinkling, “it doesn’t flow for everyone.”

He’s the King of the Castle Which makes me the dirty rascal. After picking our way painstakingly across the rocky hillside below the Baatara Sinkhole, we came across this magnificent specimen. Sitting on its own hill, this home, complete with mandaloon windows and Marseilles tiles may look traditional, but it’s new. The house occupies such a perfect lookout position that it came as no surprise when I learned later that it belongs to a former officer in the Lebanese army.

Dip Me in Honey One of the first things I noticed about Lebanon was the quality of its light. At the end of a summer’s day, for example, when there is just enough dust in the air, the light is so rich, so treacly and so very flattering, that it seems as though, you, the mountains and everything in between, have been dipped into a jar of honey. Golden Hour, a measly 60 minutes elsewhere, lasts almost 90 here.

Fountains of Paradise In the center of a large arcaded square, the ablutions fountain at Tripoli’s Mansouri mosque is a lovely example of early Levantine Islamic architecture. It incorporates elements from Crusader and Roman structures that once stood nearby, a blending and repurposing of different artifacts and civilizations so typical of Lebanon, which despite its recent reputation for sectarian conflict, is a living tapestry of different cultures and faiths that has always been more about accommodation than elimination.

Man on Mars As sunsets go, this one high above The Cedars was a corker. The mountains reddened, the air thickened and as mist crept up the valley, I flashed on those photos of Marathon Valley beamed home by Rover. Suddenly, I was no longer watching sunset from the top of Mount Lebanon, I was watching it from the top of Olympus Mons on Mars. Overactive imagination? Perhaps, but Lebanon is nothing if not a flight of fantasy.

Billy No-Mates The English slang term for a person with no friends applies perfectly to this monument. All on its own outside Iaat, no one knows why it exists. Rumors abound. (St.) Helena put it up during her whirl around the Holy Land in search of relics. It’s a victory column, a funerary monument, a puzzle that unlocks a fabulous golden hoard, a stop sign for passing UFOs. OK, maybe not, we’ll probably never know for sure.

WORDS AND PHOTOGRAPHY WARREN SINGH-BARTLETT