360
CAIRO TO DAMASCUS
Halfway to Jericho we drove past Khan Hathrour, a caravanserai since time immemorial. Tradition places here the
inn where the Good Samaritan took the traveler who had
been robbed and beaten by thieves. The road kept dipping,
and we passed a sign announcing that we were now at sea
level. Down, down, we continued to coast, squeezing between towering rock walls, the region becoming more arid
and desolate, with buttes and dried pits, barren hills pockmarked with boulders and erosion pockets stretching clear
to the horizon. As we neared the level of the Dead Sea, 1,282
feet below sea level, the lowest body of water in the world,
the region became a total desert, a vast caldron of dismal,
tortured, kiln-baked earth. When we hit bottom, the road
became arrow-straight. We entered the valley of the Dead
Sea.
"Someone is following us," I said to the Arab with some
alarm, as the first of several cars emerged through the dust
we had raised.
"Those look like Glubb Pasha and his jeeps. I know them."
First to catch up was a jeep with a driver and three armed
Legionnaires. Then came Major-General John Bagot Glubb
—who had been spending considerable time in Jerusalem—
in a black American sedan. On impulse I photographed his
car and the second armed jeep that followed it. It was a relief
when both passed without stopping.
Now came the miracle—the miracle of water in the Judean
wilderness!
First I saw the irrigation canals, then willow and poplar
trees, and the beginnings of green orchards; then lush groves
of banana and fig trees, sugarcane, orange, lemon, palm, and
date palms. Contrary to the dusty, unappetizing Arab city I
had expected, Jericho actually was a jewel in the desert wilderness. One of the most ancient and historic cities in the
world, especially for the Jews, it was the first city they saw
following their dispersion from Egypt. Joshua conquered it
by the blowing of trumpets. Elisha cured its bitter waters,