Travel journal

Masada and the Dead Sea: A Day Out of the City

The fortress first, then the water. One whole day out of the city, from the top of the rock down to the lowest place on earth.

1 July 2022

A wide view over a pale, cracked desert plain stretching to blue water, with bare hills along the far shore and a clear sky above.

This was the day I went out of the city. A fortress up on a rock first, then the water, then the mud. Here it is.

The drive out. A junction in the middle of nothing, road signs on a pole, and the desert going on past it.

A junction in bare desert with road signs on a pole, a guard rail along the road in front and dry hills far behind.

Then the view from the top. Masada sits above a plain so pale and flat it looks like there is nothing out there at all, and then the water at the end of it. A whole bunch of land and nothingness.

Me at the top in the blue shirt, the flag on its pole behind me and the whole plain below.

A woman in a blue shirt and dark glasses standing on a stone path at a fortress site, a flag on a pole beside her and the pale plain and blue water far below her.

The steps at the top, worn into shape, and the rock wall of the fortress alongside them.

Worn stone steps running up beside a wall of rough rock, a black railing along the top of the wall and an interpretive panel standing at its foot.

The same plain all the way across: land, then water, then the hills in a line on the other side.

A long, low view over pale desert ground to a strip of blue water, bare hills along the horizon and rough rock in the foreground.

Me again, with the plain and the water spread out behind.

A selfie of a woman in a blue shirt with the pale desert plain and blue water spread out behind her, a metal railing below.

And a raven, sitting there on the rock at the edge with the water behind it.

A raven standing on a rough rock ledge with its beak open, blue water and bare hills far behind it.

Down at the bottom afterwards: bare ground, palms, and the big tents with the pointed roofs.

Bare rocky ground in front of a palm grove and large white tents with pointed roofs, with a cliff line behind them.

Then the water, and the sign over the beach building: welcome to the lowest place on earth.

A welcome sign on the front of a beach building reading Welcome to the lowest place on earth, with a large leafy tree above it and clear sky.

The signpost at the beach points to the mud, the beach, the office and the bar, in painted arrows. I went to the mud.

A wooden signpost of painted arrows pointing to the mud, the beach, the office and the lowest bar, under the roof of a pergola with a paved path behind it.

In the water, floating on my back with one arm up, hills on the other side.

A woman in a striped swimsuit floating in dark blue water with one arm raised, bare hills along the far shore behind her.

And then the mud. All over me, head to feet, standing at the edge of the water.

A woman standing at the edge of the water covered in grey mud from her shoulders down, with bare hills across the water behind her.

Afterwards in the beach shop, with a cold drink and the sign on the wall behind me: the lowest bar in the world.

A selfie of a woman in a beach shop with a painted sign on the wall behind her reading the lowest bar in the world, folded towels stacked on the shelves beside her.

On the way out, the last thing of the day: a camel, lying on a rug on the pavement with its tassels on.

A camel lying down on a patterned rug on a paved path, a striped blanket and white cords over its back and a head harness hung with yellow, red and blue tassels.

Fortress in the morning, water and mud in the afternoon, and the drive in between.

Every photograph in this one is mine, from that day. The city pages live under Cities.

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