Waking up at dawn and saying goodbye to Eilat, I set out on my return journey. The road back to Tel Aviv passes through the Dead Sea and Jerusalem. Today, I need to reach the city of Ein Bokek on the shores of the Dead Sea. The entire route goes along the bottom of a rift stretching across Israel from north to south. The Dead Sea lies at its lowest point: -430 m. It is also the lowest land point on earth, meaning that the journey involves a very long and smooth descent. The first half of the route follows the same highway I took to Eilat, but under bright sun, not in total darkness. Essentially, I was rediscovering these locations because I hadn’t seen anything around me before.
The first rays of sunlight break through the clouds over Jordan.
A bicycle amidst local vegetation.
“Oh, what beauty!”
I stopped on the roadside. There was a small amusing incident here that I was unaware of at the time, but I’ll talk about it later.
The bus stop displays feature rotating pixels, which usually didn’t have anything coherent written on them, so I slightly adjusted to bring some clarity.
I distinctly remember this part of the road from when I traveled to Eilat at night. Recognized the place only because of the stops where I lay and rested. Naturally, no mountains were visible. There was pitch-darkness all around, and only the streetlights would illuminate the road, as if you were traveling in space from Earth to the Moon. I had to imagine the surroundings.
It was incredibly lucky that the sun often disappeared behind the clouds, so it was cool, and there was no need to look for shade to rest.
A desert dweller.
Despite there being more descents than ascents, the wind blew in my face all day, constantly forcing me to pedal with increased effort.
Stop for beautiful photos.
Created a composition.
Last time I traveled here at night, there wasn’t any asphalt, so I had to travel over a freshly removed rough layer. Now it’s smooth and has my favorite wide shoulders serving as bike lanes along the entire route.
Here, the asphalt hasn’t yet been laid. The texture is superb!
Left a signature for memory.
This is a key point on the route. This intersection is where routes from Be’er Sheva, where I traveled from Tel Aviv on my way south, and the road to the Dead Sea and Jerusalem meet. In the distance, you can see a green oasis, which is indeed an oasis in the middle of the desert. It is the only spot for many kilometers with food, toilets, and water.
If you’re cycling in similar locations, make sure to have such spots in your path in advance, otherwise, you risk being left with nothing in the middle of nowhere.
A short break and some quirky sculptures. There are also slot machines, a bar, and even a zoo. Not to mention delicious falafel with cola.
Old abandoned sections are occasionally visible by the road. On the right, there’s a new section that I traveled. Each winter, rivers flowing from the mountains destroy the road surface in places resulting in flooding. So, they built a more direct and higher road with bridges over the dry riverbeds.
Bushes have grown beautifully.
The old road section and the dried riverbed are visible from the bridge.
Rest areas with shades and drinking fountains start to appear along the route.
Antelope ranch farm in Arava.
Suddenly by the roadside.
As the scorching sun emerged in the afternoon, I had to hide behind a stop. Standing in front was impossible.
At one of the pit stops with a McDonald’s and a grocery store, I encountered a group of schoolchildren who, upon seeing me, started asking for a ride on the bike and imitated being cyclists. Quite similar.
Approaching the Dead Sea, noticeable changes in the terrain begin, revealing even more spectacular views. An enormous bridge crosses a dried riverbed here.
All this beauty isn’t stone but rather dense sand, which you can break if desired. This is why everything constantly washes away and collapses.
While photographing, there was a remarkable story here. Remember the photo from the first roadside stop? I pulled over in the middle of the desert because it didn’t matter where to stop since there were no stops anyway. I calmly sat under a bush, had a snack, stretched my legs, and continued. Meanwhile, some driver who saw me phoned the police saying that there’s a cyclist by the roadside and they need to rescue him. The police roamed the highway looking for me for several hours while I continued to travel along my route calmly. They finally found me here. A courteous officer in a pickup stopped, asked where I was heading, whether I had food and water, and if everything was alright. I said everything was great and I’d reach my final destination soon. Although, I was tempted to ask for a lift for the remaining few dozen kilometers since by then my legs and back no longer wanted to be part of me.
The last rays of the sun and the Jordanian mountains in the distance.
I wanted so much to explore all these ravines but simply didn’t have the time.
The descent ended, which means civilization and the Dead Sea are near!
The southern part of the Dead Sea is under the control of mineral factories – vast salt plantations created after the shrinking of the Sea in the 1970s. This part is divided into pools that are flooded and then dried afterwards, after which special machines collect the salt. There’s a zigzag line in the middle. This is the border between Israel and Jordan.
This is how the factories look. Next to them lie mountains of salt.
By nightfall, I reached Ein Bokek—the only spot of civilization on the Dead Sea. Essentially, it’s a tiny town consisting of hotels and stores. Here, there’s a free organized beach with all the amenities, a well-maintained waterfront, a shower, and a toilet. Elsewhere on the Dead Sea, there are either small paid beaches with steep slopes or barbed wire to dissuade people from approaching the water. This is due to the extreme danger. The shore is very rocky, covered with large and sharp salt crystals. Without fresh water handy, it doesn’t make sense to go in the water, as the salt concentration is such that you can easily overdose and experience a strange state resembling severe dehydration and dizziness, especially in the heat. It hurts if salt gets onto cuts, and it’s better not to imagine what happens if it gets on mucous membranes or in the eyes. If this happens while swimming, you’ll have to get to dry land blindly, shouting for help.
The bottom is littered with salt crystals, making walking difficult, so the beach provides a convenient ramp extending into the sea with a shade. The water is hot and feels like oily broth. The density of the salty water forcefully pushes you to the surface like a cork.
With the saltwater’s density, it is tricky to get into a vertical position at first. And of course, it’s vital to avoid splashing water into your eyes or mouth to avoid the harshness of life’s bitterness.
The new promenade. The sand is not local; it was brought in to make it look beautiful and pleasant.
Just yesterday it was February, and outside it’s +24°C. Meanwhile, in Jerusalem, only 100 km away, the temperature is +7°C.
The work of a renowned Israeli artist.
This bike took me from the Mediterranean Sea to the Red Sea and then to the Dead Sea.
The bottom reaches as far as one can touch, covered with these salt crystals.
The air temperature reached +28°C. Quite cool for winter.
A fantastic public space with an amphitheater on the slope.
My hotel against the mountain backdrop.
An elevator with Shabbat mode where they rotate a key, and it travels automatically across floors without needing to press buttons manually.
Despite the city being the size of a couple of Moscow’s neighborhoods, there’s a complete bike infrastructure here.
The street design isn’t the most thoughtful, but there’s a physical buffer between traffic directions and a safety island.
The moment came when I had to admit that I won’t continue further, although my route wasn’t fully completed. This is because on the three-day journey, I gave too much exertion, and cycling 220 km a day with only a high gear wasn’t the smartest idea from the start. Moreover, to reach Jerusalem from the Dead Sea, one must overcome a massive long ascent of +800 meters from -420 meters above sea level on a highway without shoulders. I decided to catch the first available bus to Jerusalem. Here’s when something incredible happened: the Knesset elections were taking place on that day in the country, which meant all public transportation was free, allowing everyone to return to their city and vote for their party! How long an Orthodox Jewish family explained this to me… In the end, I just tossed the bike into the bus hold and found myself in the cold capital two hours later.
Track for the day:
202 km
10 hours on route
Average speed 20 km/h
Elevation gain 1498 m
Next:
Cycling Through the Desert. Part 5 — Jerusalem
Previous Posts:
Cycling Through the Desert. Part 1 — From Tel Aviv to the Desert
Cycling Through the Desert. Part 2 — Across the Desert to Eilat
Cycling Through the Desert. Part 3 — Eilat
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