12. Cedars, snow and swimming in the Med.

My brother-in-law, Jonny, once described their family outings, “Hotels, Hardly Ever Visited.” It was the same in our family. Dad had a history of hikes up Table Mountain, camping around the countryside and making a special event of boiling water outside and sharing good company under the trees. He conveyed his enjoyment of the open-air way of life to us and we would often find special places to visit for a family getaway. It is true that we could not generally afford to visit hotels or restaurants, but we hardly noticed the lack.

Often, on a Sunday afternoon, we would put on our walking shoes, tighten up the wheels of the pram and bicycle, pack a picnic in rucksacks on our backs and walk towards Ainab. The road crossed over a stream and a small gravel pathway led downwards into bushes of broom and gorse. As we burst through them, there before us was a cement table ready to be covered with a colourful cloth for the picnic. We don’t know who built that cement slab, but we owned it for the afternoon, and it was a table of delight for us. We called it “Bushy Rocks” and it remains in our memories as a place of fun, frolics, games and a picnic of sandwiches, a drink of shraab, biscuits and some fruit. Beyond this, we could sit on a big rock and look out across the valley. The olive groves were on one side and the mule track leading from our village to the village of Ainab was below us. In the far distance was the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.

A longer day-trip took us to Ain Zahalta through Aley. There was a pine tree forest near the road, and beyond that a circular outcrop of cedar trees, called the Ma’asser Cedars. Further along the road to Beit ed-Dine was the turnoff to the dense Barouk Cedars, along the Lebanon mountain ridge. These trees were older and had wider, stronger branches and we could swing on them and even stand on them for fun and recreation. Climbing up and into the forest, our family under Dad’s leadership enjoyed all kinds of adventures, picnics and exploratory forays. Often we went with other families and it was close enough to take any visitors to Lebanon to see the famed Cedars. The cubs and scout troupe once went there as an outing. The fragrance of a cedar tree immediately transports me back to those stately giants.

The Cedars of God, Arz al Rabb, were the real deal when it came to cedars. It is said that this is the remains of the forest where King Hiram cut timber for Solomon’s Temple. Cedar wood was also used to build Phoenician ships. This forest was much further north. Doug and Dulcie Anderson lived in Baalbek. Since they were good friends with our family, we would all pile into our VW beetle, travel through Aley and then on up the Lebanon mountain range past Dahr Al-Baidar. In winter this bleak area was a snow covered hillside, hence its name meaning ‘white back’. In the winter, we loved to toboggan down those slopes when they were heavy with snow, but bypassed the location as we went down towards the Beka’a valley, past Chtaura and Zahli and then northwards for a long way, endlessly, until the ancient Baalbek ruins came into view. The Andersons stayed in a large sandstone house at the southern end of the town. That would be our destination.

We once went up the Kadisha valley within the Bcharre and Zgharta district when there was no snow with Doug and Dulcie and I remember being thoroughly intrigued by the hermitages in the Kadisha valley, one of the oldest Maronite monasteries. When I saw how they were carved into the mountainside, half way up a cliff, I wondered how the monks lived. How did they transport their food? I tried to picture them having food baskets lowered from the top of the cliff and it stirred my imagination.

When there was lots of snow on Mount Lebanon, we would go to Dahr al Baidar and taboggan down the slopes. Naturally, we had to labour with a fairly heavy taboggan, which Dad had constructed. It had metal plate runners and would go well with a few of us riding on it. On one occasion, Mom was pregnant but was persuaded to go with one of us and it is on record that she went almost all the way to the bottom – not necessarily all the way on the toboggan – and the ride ended with her rolling off and becoming something of a snowball as she rolled. Dad was worried that she had injured herself, but she seemed able to stand up and get into the car. There did not seem to be any after-effects.

 

The Mediterranean Sea was the arena within which the ancient Phoenician seafaring culture grew. Many of the major ports of Lebanon, Tyre, Sidon and Byblos, were influential trade centres, and later Tripoli and Beirut became prominent port cities. The Mediterranean lived up to its reputation as magnet for tourist and locals alike. Going to the beach to swim in the Med could consequently be an expensive business because many parts of the sea front became resorts and elegant restaurants, reserving their part of the seafront as a paying location. We managed to find a particular beach that was not reserved and that became ‘our beach’. We called it San Balash (which means ‘for nothing’) and thoroughly enjoyed our times there. 

On occasion, we took a skiff with us on the top of our VW, and then used that to paddle around and perform all kinds of antics. Of course, a picnic would be packed for the hungry hordes, and we would gather underneath a large beach umbrella to eat our meal in the shade. Somehow they really were ‘sand-wiches,’ but we disregarded the grit because of the joy of being there. On extra special occasions, we would walk to the neighbouring (paying) beach of San Michel to buy ice creams. What a treat that was.

 

I learned to swim in Jounieh Bay, on the way to Byblos. This was north of Beirut and we could simply park the car and swim in the sea.  Mom and Dad taught me how to do doggy paddle. Later, Dad made me a snorkel with a long tube attached to an empty paraffin tin. It didn’t work as there was not enough suction to get air down to my mouth, and I had to revert back to the more mundane goggles and snorkel and float on the surface of the ocean. What we saw was always intriguing and from that time on, I always loved swimming. I remember when Joan was born and while Mom was waiting for her arrival in Tripoli, Dad took the rest of us on a short boat tour to Palm Islands off the coast. Gazing through the crystal clear azure water, I could see the way the waves had eroded and undercut the limestone crust.