On Top of Masada

                Unlike the Roman soldiers of 1945 years ago who were struggling up a rampart, probably being targets for rock being hurled down from above, I sat in a cable car to arrive at the top of the Masada mesa. I could have walked up a zigzag path, steep and hot, but I wisely chose not to. Conserving energy, that what it is called. It also gave me more opportunity to see and remember what I saw at the top.

                And what did I see?

A Tristram's starling on Masada.

                I saw a number of blackbirds up there. Fairly friendly fellows they were too. The one shown on my photograph, looking less than happy, seems to be giving me a mouthful. He was, I suspect, merely complaining about the heat, lack of food and water and his usually quiet home being overrun by tourists levelling phones at him, or in my case a Canon (with, in this instance, a 55mm lens and exposure 1/250 at f 11).

                This blackbird was actually a Tristram's starling. They are noted for their black, black appearance with bright orange feathers at the bottom of their wings. These feathers stand out quite remarkably when the bird is in flight, but sitting here on a rock my young fellow seems to be bashfully hiding his colours. If you, dear reader, look carefully you will be able to make them out.

                Why the name, Tristriam's starling, you may be wondering. Henry Tristram was an English clergyman living in the nineteenth century who seemed to have spent an inordinate amount of time travelling. One wonders how his parishioners took to this! His travels also took him to the Holy Land and in 1868 he published a book, Natural History of the Bible. This naturally was about Palestine and surrounding areas. A few years later (16 to be exact) he released another of his works, descriptively named Fauna and Flora of Palestine.

                Besides being a clergyman, a traveller and author he was also an ornithologist. It was probably because of this string to his bow that this bird, seen here on top of Masada, was named in honour of him. No doubt it had a local name before bearing Tristram's name but what it was, I do not know.

                Now the good Reverend Tristram being an ornithologist was probably enthralled to spend many hours observing the habits of these Masada blackbirds but after a few friendly words, hearty thanks for posing for my photograph (actually I took more than one) I was happy to bid him farewell and look further.

                Standing on the edge of the plateau, I did look further, a good deal further. This time I looked into the distance where I saw the blue waters of the Dead Sea. This view was quite scenic but it did not hold my attention for long. What really caught my eye was something much closer, down at the base of the plateau. This was the stone wall outline of one of the Roman legion's encampment areas. It was remarkable that after two millennia the stones were still there, not removed from where the soldiers, or their slaves, had placed them during the year-long siege which had taken place here.

What 2000 years can do to a Roman encampment at the foot of the Masada plateau.

In a way this answered a question which has often popped up when reading about, or visiting the site of, a city which had undergone siege warfare in its history. The question is this: What do soldiers do during their long hours of boredom, during these long days, and months, sitting and waiting for the opposition to starve into submission? This question probably arose out of a statement I have heard in various forms, each with the same meaning. War is something described as long periods (90%, 99%) of boredom punctuated by moments of excitement (sheer terror).

                So what do soldiers do when laying siege to a city? It became clear to me what the Roman soldiers did. They built stone walls. Here in the Judean Desert stones were plentiful, so they built stone walls.

                Enough daydreaming, let's move on.

                "There is time now for you to climb down to see the lower level of Herod's palace. This was where he had his private, luxurious rooms."

                "Sounds good. Let's see how the other half lived 2000 years ago."

                "Other half? Decadent rulers, perhaps."

                "Point taken, but what did you mean by climb down?"

                "Yes, it's on a ledge way below the main level of the plateau's top."

                "And?"

                "We will need to walk down some steps."

                We, as a group had become a little wary of steps, whether that be "a few" or "some". These terms can translate into widely differing actual numbers. Hence a request for a more definite number.

                "How many steps exactly?"

                "I don't really know. For some it might be more than for others. It probably depends on your state of fitness."

                Half of us chose to go. We were most likely "the others" who thought our fitness was up to it. We arrived comfortably at Herod's private chambers. The views were spectacular. The remaining structure gave signs of its previous beauty. All agreed that it was well worth visiting and a half-group photo was shot as evidence of our successful descent.

                "Now we need to walk back up."

  "How many steps were there? Did anyone count them as we were coming down?"

                "No."

                "Jim, you and I will count them on the way back. Now no stopping or we might forget where we are up to. See if we arrive at the same number."

                Agreed, and at the top we compared tallies. 168 was Jim's total. I had 169. Then I remembered a comment my wife often makes; "He always exaggerates his athletic prowess."

                Now back at the top it was time to cool off in the caldarium after the 168/9 steps climb. Before you hasten to correct me, I want to point out that there was shade in the partly restored caldarium. In its original operating mode it was a hot room, probably for Herod's privileged guests. I am always amazed at the level of technology evident in these ancient ruins from Roman times. In this room one could clearly see how it operated. I was impressed with the technology, sure, but not with the concept, even though some fanatics point to the health benefits of being over-heated.

                I have never been a fan of overly hot, excessively humid weather. I prefer sitting in my study with the AC set at 25 degrees, when outside it is a humid 40.

Roman technology in the hot room. Under floor heating with vents to allow the hot air to warm the guests.

                The tour around the plateau continued. There was so much of interest on top of Masada - old synagogue, Christian church, columbarium, bathing pool, large rock cisterns, store rooms, remnants of wall decorations, rock walls (can't get away from these in Israel), the enormity of Herod's whole project. So much to see.

                After spending hours walking around mostly under a hot sun, in and out of store rooms, up and down steps, I was pleased I had a return ticket for the cable car.