Imagine the perfect spring morning in Israel—the sun is warm but not yet "blasting" you, and the air smells like fresh wildflowers. It's the absolute best time to grab the keys and head to the eastern side of the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee).
First Stop: Kursi & The Views Start your day at Kursi. It's this massive Byzantine monastery ruin where the vibe is just... super chill. You can walk across ancient mosaics and literally feel the history. But don't stay too long because the drive up the mountain is even better. Make sure to pull over at Mitzpe Nukieb. On a clear day, the view is insane—you see the whole blue "bowl" of the Kinneret stretched out from Tiberias to the Golan Heights. It's one of those "stop and just stare" moments.
The Main Event: Susita (Hippos) Then, you've got the crown jewel: Susita. It's like a ghost city sitting on a hill. They call it the "Pompeii above the lake." You'll walk through the old Roman forum and see giant columns that were knocked down by an earthquake 1,200 years ago and just... stayed there. It's got this wild mix of ancient Roman vibes and old Israeli military outposts.
Trains and Hummus When you head back down, swing by the old Tzemach train station. It's been restored and feels like a movie set from the early 1900s—back when trains ran all the way from Haifa to Damascus.
Finally, once you're officially "toured out," hit up Hummus Eliyahu at the Tzemach junction. Trust me, a warm bowl of creamy hummus with olive oil, fluffy pita, and a solid cup of coffee is the only way to end a trip like this.
Pro tip: Go right now while it's spring. The Golan is bright green, and everything looks like a masterpiece.
So, Kursi is this cool archaeological spot sitting on the western slopes of the Golan, right by the Sea of Galilee. It's basically the ruins of a massive Byzantine monastery.
A bit of backstory: The Origins: It all started after 324 AD when the Roman Empire went Christian. Saint Helena (Emperor Constantine's mom) was the one who pushed to get it built.
The "Miracle" Factor: This place is famous because it's tied to some big stories about Jesus—specifically the one where he calmed the storm on the lake and the "Legion" story where he cast demons out of a guy and into a herd of pigs.
The Downfall: It had a good run until a massive earthquake trashed the place in 741 AD. After that, it was pretty much abandoned, though some Arab settlers moved in for a bit during the 8th century.
What's there to see now? It's a National Park now, and it's actually really peaceful. The highlight is the restored 5th-century church. The floors are covered in these awesome mosaics of animals and plants, still in great shape.
Pro tip: Don't miss the little chapel up on the hillside. The view looking down over the Kinneret (Sea of Galilee) from there is unbeatable.
So, if we're talking about the eastern shore of the Kinneret, you've gotta check out these old Byzantine baths. They aren't just a pile of rocks—the layout is actually super well-preserved, and you can really see how the whole "spa" system worked back then.
How the "Ancient AC" Worked: It's actually pretty clever engineering. They had these little ceramic pillars holding up the floor in the "Hot Room."
The Hot Room: Burning air from the furnace pumped under the floor and through the walls.
The Warm Room: The air cooled down a bit as it moved to the next space.
The Cold Room: By the time the air hit the third room, it was totally chilled.
The Routine: People would start in the cold room, move to the warm one, and finish off in the hot room. Basically, the world's first luxury circuit!
Why was this place even here? It wasn't just about the baths or the miracles. This spot was strategic. There was a major road leading from the lake straight up to the Golan Heights, so putting a monastery here was a power move by the Byzantine Empire.
The "Monk Strategy": Here's a cool bit of history: the Byzantines used monks as a kind of secret weapon for settling the land.
Because monks didn't have families or kids, they were super mobile and independent.
The Empire could basically "drop" them into key areas to build fortresses and outposts.
It was the ultimate way to claim territory and keep an eye on things until the Arab conquests changed the game later on.
The main building of the monastery was the church, and its heart was this open courtyard with a freshwater well. It wasn'twasn'ta place for Sunday service—it was the "ancho" for the whole community.
The "Monastery-to-City" Pipeline Think of these monasteries as the startups of the Byzantine Empire.
The Empire would send monks to these strategic spots to set up camp.
Because the monks were stable and organised, a whole village would eventually grow around them.
This was their secret sauce for economic growth and spreading Christianity to the locals and pagans. It was basically "natio"-building" 101." The Story in the Stones If you look at the walls, you'llyou'lle something interesting. Most of the buildings are made of black basalt (the local volcanic rock from the Golan Heights). But you'll spot chunks of white limestone mixed in.
Why does that matter? Well, the Golan doesn't have limestone—that comes from the other side of the Sea of Galilee. Seeing both types of stone together is like an ancient recipe. It proves that people were trading and shipping materials across the lake. Even back then, these guys had a solid logistics network going!
The baptistery was a huge deal in the monastery because that's where people were officially baptised. If you look down at the mosaic floor, there's actually an inscription that acts like a time stamp.
The Emperor's Stamp It says this place was built back when Emperor Maurice was in charge (around 582–602 AD).
Who was this guy? Maurice was basically a rockstar general. He wrapped up a massive war with the Persians, pushed the Empire's borders way out to the East, and even secured their positions in Italy and Africa.
The Martyr: He ended up being canonised as a martyr by the Church, so he's a legendary figure in that world.
Why was this spot a "Hot Zone" This wasn't just a quiet place for prayer; it was a strategic outpost.
The Gateway: This was the main road leading up to the Golan Heights, which was the gateway to the Persian (Parthian) Empire.
The Frontier: In the tug-of-war between the Byzantines and the Persians, this was the front line. Later, this same route became the path for Arab Muslim expansion.
So, when you're standing there looking at the font, you're basically standing at a historical crossroads that shaped the whole map of the Middle East.
Kursi was a major agricultural centre. They weren't just praying; they were producing olive oil and wine on a massive scale.
Upgrading the Tech: The Screw Press If you look at the olive press there, you're looking at the "high-tech" of the 5th and 6th centuries.
The Old Way: Before this, they used a basic conical press.
The Upgrade: They switched to a wooden beam with a massive screw. This lets them squeeze every last drop of oil out of the olive pulp. It was way more efficient and, in fact, proves that the monastery was at its peak during the late Byzantine era.
Nature and Daily Life in the Mosaics The mosaics on the floor are like an ancient Instagram feed of what life was like:
The Birds: You'll see pictures of ibises. Fun fact: you can still see these exact birds hanging around the Sea of Galilee today!
The Bread: There's also a depiction of a container that was likely used for storing bread.
The Calm Before the Storm The mosaic's style and the specific stones used confirm that this was all happening right before the Arab conquest. It's pretty wild to think that the very hills you're looking at—the Golan Heights—are where the Arab armies first rolled through to take Byzantine Palestine.
Believe it or not, we almost didn't know this place existed! Back in the 1970s, workers were trying to build a modern road up to the Golan Heights—following the same path as the ancient traders—when they literally bumped into the monastery ruins.
Why exactly here? It wasn't a random choice. The monks picked this spot for two big reasons:
The Water: The Samakh Stream provided a steady supply of fresh water.
The Location: It sat right on the main trade route from the lake up to the Golan (which they used to call Bashan).
The Timeline of Kursi The Peak (585 AD): Archaeologists found mosaics depicting animals, plants, and scripture, dating back to this year.
The Hit (614 AD): The Persian invasion trashed the place pretty badly.
The End (741 AD): They rebuilt it, but a massive earthquake finally took it down for good. After that, some Muslim settlers used the ruins for a small village in the late 8th century, but the monastery's glory days were over.
Modern Vibes and "Sand Magic" Today, it's a super peaceful park where pilgrims still come to hold Mass or meditate. But there's one really cool modern feature you've gotta see: The Metal Cone.
It's sitting in a round sandbox, and when you rotate it, the cone "prints" words into the sand. These words are from the Bible story about the miracle that happened right here—the one where a man was healed, and the "demons" were cast into a herd of pigs that ran into the Kinneret. It's a pretty unique way to "read" the place's history!
If you read the Gospels, almost everything Jesus and his disciples did happened on the northern shore of the Sea of Galilee. The eastern side? It barely gets a mention.
Why the cold shoulder? It mostly comes down to who lived there. Back then, the eastern shore didn't really have a Jewish presence—it was "gentile territory." Because there weren't Jewish villages there, it wasn't a primary stop on their travels.
The "Pig" Clue There's really only one famous story set in this area: the one where Jesus meets a man possessed by demons. He casts the spirits out of the guy and into a herd of pigs, which then go charging off a cliff into the lake.
Here is the kicker: for people back then, the mention of pigs was a huge giveaway. Since pigs aren't kosher, their presence was a clear sign that this was "foreign" land, outside the traditional Jewish world.
It's a small detail, but it shows how the eastern shore was a world apart from the fishing villages on the other side. We could go way deeper into the theology of that, but for now, it's just a cool bit of context to keep in mind while looking out over the water.
Right next to the church ruins and the old baths, there's this really peaceful park area. It's a popular spot for pilgrims to meditate or hold a small service.
The Olive Press Art There's a cool modern art piece there: a rotating cone. It's designed to look like the ancient tools they used to crush olives before pressing them for oil. But instead of making oil, this one "prints" words from the Gospel of Luke into the sand as you spin it.
The Story in the Sand The text it leaves behind tells the big story of why this place matters:
The Storm: Jesus and his disciples were sailing across the lake to get to the other side. Jesus fell asleep, and a massive storm kicked up out of nowhere. The disciples panicked, woke him up, and he basically told the wind and waves to "shut it." It worked, and the disciples were completely floored by his ability to control the weather.
The Gerasenes (Gadara): They finally landed here (in what the Bible calls the country of the Gerasenes). That's where the "Legion" story happened—Jesus healed the possessed man by sending the demons into a herd of pigs, which then pulled a vanishing act into the Sea of Galilee.
It's a pretty clever way to interact with the legend while you're standing on the very ground where it supposedly went down.
The name Nukieb comes from an Arabic word meaning "leader" or "elder," but it also refers to a "pass" or "gap" in the cliffs. Back in the late 1800s, it almost became a spiritual hub of the world. The founder of the Baháʼí Faith bought a huge chunk of land here and turned the dry shoreline into a massive, blooming garden. It stayed that way until the 1920s, when politics forced them out.
The 10-Meter Border Headache After WWI, Britain and France drew a line on the map that was asking for trouble. They gave the entire Sea of Galilee to the British, meaning the border was literally just 10 meters from the water on this side. Syria had no legal access to the lake, which eventually led to decades of fighting.
The "Fortress" Years By 1949, things got messy. On paper, this was a "demilitarised zone," but in reality, Syria turned Nukieb into a massive fortified bunker. For years, Syrian snipers and artillery up here would take shots at Israeli fishermen and the people living in Kibbutz Ein Gev just across the water.
Operation "Snunit" (1962) By 1962, Israel had enough of the constant shelling and launched a massive commando raid on the night of March 16th.
The Mission: Special forces (Golani and naval commandos) moved in to take out the Syrian garrison.
The Fight: It was brutal. The Syrian forces were way bigger than the intel suggested, leading to some of the toughest trench fighting in Israeli history. They took the post in just 70 minutes, but it cost the lives of seven soldiers.
The Mystery: One soldier, Yaakov Dvir, vanished during the fight. To this day, nobody knows where he is, but there's a memorial for him right here at the lookout.
Why it Matters Today The constant threat from these heights didn't really end until the Six-Day War in 1967, when Israel took the Golan. Now, instead of snipers and bunkers, we have Mitzpe Nukieb—one of the best spots to see the "turquoise bowl" of the Kinneret stretching out toward Tiberias. It's a place of silence now, dedicated to the guys who fought tokeepe it that way.
This part of the story is like the "origin movie" for the Israeli Army (IDF). It shows how they shifted from being a brave but somewhat amateur group of guys into the high-tech, professional force they are today.
Here's the deep dive into the 1962 geopolitical pressure cooker:
Part 1: The Big Chess Game In March 1962, the world was on the edge of the Cuban Missile Crisis, and the Middle East was a mess.
Syria's Identity Crisis: Syria had just split from Egypt and was desperate to prove it was still "revolutionary." Picking a fight with Israel at Nukieb was their way of showing off.
The Water War: Israel was building its national water carrier to turn the Negev desert green. Syria tried to literally "turn off the tap" by diverting the Jordan River. Whoever controlled Nukieb controlled the water.
Soviet Influence: Damascus was the Soviet Union's "showroom." The bunkers at Nukieb were built using Russian doctrine and packed with tech the IDF hadn't even seen yet.
The Spy: Interestingly, while the IDF was planning the attack, the legendary spy Eli Cohen had just arrived in Damascus. He wasn't a superstar yet, but his presence showed that Israel was finally realizing that info is just as important as ammo.
Part 2: Operation Snunit — "Heroic Chaos" The raid on March 16th was led by Motta Gur (who later became a legend). But at the time, it was a bit of a mess:
Bad Intel: They expected a small group of Syrians but ran into a massive, fortified defence.
Brute Force vs Strategy: Ariel Sharon later criticized the mission as a "head-on collision" rather than a clever tactical move. It was more about "guts" than "brains" back then.
The "Kibbutz" Rescue: When Israeli aarmouredvehicles hit mines and got stuck, there wasn't a formal rescue squad. Instead, tractor drivers from Kibbutz Ein Gev just hopped on their tractors and drove into the line of fire to tow the soldiers out. A few kibbutzniks even grabbed guns and joined the fight on the fly. It was heroic, but totally wild for a regular army.
The Lesson Learned in Blood Israel lost seven soldiers that night, and the world condemned them in the UN (with the USSR blocking any defence of Israel's actions). But Nukieb was a turning point. The IDF realized three things:
Never fly blind: You need perfect intelligence before you move.
Professionalise: "Brave farm boys" aren't enough; you need elite, specialized commandos.
Air Power: The dogfights over the lake proved that the Air Force would be the "game changer" in the next war.
Basically, the mistakes of 1962 paved the way for the total victory in 1967. The blood spilt at Nukieb was the tuition fee for the lessons that built the modern IDF.
Moving on to our next stop: Susita (also known as Hippos). If the military story of Nukieb was about Israel's "coming of age," Susita is the ancient bedrock that literally provided the high ground for that history.
Susita: The "Horse" on the Hill The name itself is a bit of a language game. In Greek, "hippos" means "horse," and in Aramaic, "Susita" means "Horse." Why? Because the mountain it sits on is shaped exactly like a horse's back or a saddle.
The Decapolis: During the Roman era, it was part of the Decapolis—an elite club of ten Hellenistic cities that were the "cool kids" of Greek culture in the region.
The Opposite: It was basically the pagan, Greek-style "rival" to the Jewish city of Tiberias, which sits right across the lake.
Church Capital: Archaeologists have found eight churches so far. Susita was actually the seat of a Bishop. In one spot, they found a sarcophagus of a holy woman, and in another, a mosaic of "loaves and fishes"—a direct nod to the miracles of Jesus we talked about at Kursi.
The Bling: In thecentrer, you'll see the Roman Forum. It's paved in black basalt, but the columns are made of pink granite shipped from Aswan, Egypt. Talk about a luxury import!
The 2025 Jackpot: Just last year, archaeologists struck gold—literally. They found a stash of 97 gold coins and jewellery from the Byzantine era. They look like they were minted yesterday, even though they date back to the time of Emperor Heraclius.
When you approach Hippos (Susita) from the east, you immediately realise this place wasn't just built for living—it was built to flex. It starts with this massive 7-meter-wide moat carved right into the rock at the narrowest part of the "saddle" that connects the mountain to the Golan plateau. Back in the day, that moat was there to stop heavy siege engines in their tracks, leaving them sitting ducks for the defenders on the walls.
But the coolest thing about Susita is the geology-as-marketing strategy.
The Black and White Flex The city sits right where the black basalt of the Golan meets the white limestone of the Galilee valley. The architects used this to create a massive visual statement:
The Muscle (Black Basalt): Since it was right there and super tough, they used local black basalt for all the "heavy lifting"—the defensive walls, the foundations, and the regular houses.
The Style (White Limestone & Marble): Basalt is way too hard to carve into fancy shapes, and a 100% black city would have looked a bit too "gloomy" and provincial for a Roman's taste. So, they imported expensive white limestone and marble for the "pretty" stuff—the columns, the temples, and the statues.
The "Shining City" Effect This created a wild contrast. If you were looking up at Susita from across the lake in Tiberias, you'd see this dark, rugged mountain topped with a shining white crown of classical architecture. It was a total power move. It told everyone watching that this wasn't just some outpost—it was a sophisticated outpost of Greco-Roman culture sitting right on the edge of the wild frontier.
Basically, it was the ancient version of "dressing for the job you want," blending raw power with high-end civilisation.
This really is the part where you realise the Romans were the ultimate "over-engineers." They didn't just build a city on a mountain; they hacked the environment to make it luxurious. Here is the breakdown:
The Ultimate "Water Hack" Imagine building a city on a high, dry plateau with zero natural springs. For anyone else, that's a dealbreaker. For the Romans at Susita, it was just a puzzle to solve.
The 24-Kilometre Gravity Pipe To get water to the city, they built two massive aqueducts. We're talking about 24 kilometres (15 miles) of infrastructure. The water started at the El Al waterfall in the Golan and travelled solely by gravity.
The Basalt "High-Pressure" System Here's the genius part: between the Golan plateau and the mountain of Susita, there's a deep valley (the "saddle"). To get water across that gap and up the hill, they used the siphon principle (the communicating-vessels effect).
They carved hollow basalt blocks and fitted them together with insane precision to create a high-pressure pipe.
Why basalt? Because it's tough as nails and could handle the massive water pressure without exploding. You can still see these stone pipes lying around today.
Luxury as a Power Move The fact that Susita had public baths and fountains wasn't just about hygiene—it was a flex. Bringing water from 24km away so that you can have a spa day on top of a desert mountain is the ultimate "civilisation" statement. It was their way of saying, "We don't just survive nature; we dominate it."
Logic vs Chaos The city layout followed the classic Cardo and Decumanus (perfectly straight grid lines). This stood in total contrast to the messy, jagged mountains surrounding it. To the Greeks and Romans, this order was "Cosmos"—the triumph of human reason over natural chaos.
This really paints Susita as a "power move" on the map."It wasn't just; it was a statement. Here is the breakdown of why this mountain was the ultimate strategic "flex":
Su"ita: "The Command Centre of the Galilee If you want to understand Susita, don't think of it as a quiet village. Think of it as a high-tech fortress designed to control the region and keep the "civilised" world separate from the "wild" frontier." 1. The Ultimate Toll Booth The city was built right over the "throat" of the man trade route connecting the Mediterranean ports to Damascus. From that peak, the rulers could see every single caravan and every boat on the lake. If you wanted to move goods, you had to pay for them. Controlling this rock meant controlling the bank account of the entire region.
The Cliffs: 90% of the city was protected by massive natural drops, so they didn't need to build walls there.
The Moat: They only had to defend one tiny strip of land (the "saddle"), "nd tha" 7-meter moat turned it into a death trap where a handful of soldiers could stop a whole army.
The Valley: It was a swampy mess. In ancient times, that meant malaria and being an easy target for nomadic raiders.
The Peak: The mountain had "healthy wi"ds" (great ve"tilation) and was impossible to surprise. It was a trade-off: they traded easy water for physical safety and better health.
The locals lived among the rough, black basalt (the "earthly" stuff).
"he city on the hill was topped with shining white marble (the "imperial" "tuff).
"When someone in Tiberias looked across the lake, they didn't just see a mountain; they saw a glowing symbol of Rome floating above the world. It was designed to look untouchable.
This is one of the coolest spots on the mountain because it's where two different wars, fought 2,000 years apart, literally share the same walls. Here's the breakdown of the East Gate:
Where Roman Towers Meet Israeli Bunkers We're standing at the city's main defensive hub. It's wild because ancient architects and modern military engineers both looked at this exact spot and came to the same conclusion: "If we hold this gate, we hold the mountain."
The Firepower: They had catapults mounted up there, ready to rain down spears and stones on anyone trying to cross the "saddle."
The Secret Passage: Between the towers, a vaulted hallway allowed guards to zip back and forth along the wall without being seen.
The Moat 2.0: That 7-meter-wide ancient ditch? It turned out to be the perfect anti-tank trench.
The "Basalt & Concrete" Mix: If you look closely at the gate today, you'll see modern concrete bunkers and trenches built right into the ancient ruins. The soldiers used the massive basalt blocks from the Roman era as extra armour against Syrian artillery. It's this weird, forced "architectural mashup" where ancient stone was saving 20th-century lives.
Whether it was a Roman soldier with a ballista or an Israeli soldier with a rifle, the job was the same: watch that narrow neck of land and make sure nobody crosses the moat.
Once you passed through the East Gate and stepped between those massive guard towers, the "rough" part of the trip was over. You were immediately greeted by a view that was designed to blow your mind with pure Roman luxury.
Here is the vibe of the city's "Main Street":
The Decumanus Maximus As soon as you were inside, you found yourself on the Decumanus Maximus—the city's main artery. It was a perfectly straight, stone-paved road stretching over 550 meters (about 1,800 feet) from one end of the city to the other.
A City of "Cool" Contrast Think about the contrast: outside the walls was a jagged, wild, black-rock wilderness. But inside?
Geometric Perfection: The street was lined with majestic columns topped with bright white capitals. It was a world of clean lines and right angles.
The Grid: Side streets branched off at perfect 90-degree angles, creating organised neighbourhoods. It was the Roman way of showing that human logic had conquered the "chaos" of the mountain.
The Sound of Luxury But the most impressive thing wasn't just the view—it was the sound. Right by the entrance, you would have heard the sound of running water. Remember, there is no natural water on this mountain. Yet, thanks to those 24-kilometre-long pipes, the Romans had fountains splashing right inside the gate.
For a traveller coming off a long, dusty trail, being greeted by shade, white marble, and the sound of splashing water was the ultimate "five-star" welcome. It was Susita's way of saying, "Welcome to the centre of the civilised world."
This part of the story is incredible because it shows how the military logic of the mountain hasn't changed in 2,000 years. Between 1948 and 1967, Susita wasn't an archaeological site—it was a high-stakes frontline outpost.
Here is how that "modern" history played out:
The 1:40 AM Capture The modern saga started during the War of Independence. According to the original radio logs, Israeli forces captured Susita at exactly 1:40 AM. Photos from that night show young soldiers in British-style helmets scrambling over Roman ruins to set up a defence. Their main job was to make sure the Syrian army didn't push down the mountain toward Kibbutz Ein Gev.
Life on an Island For 19 years, Susita was essentially an Israeli island surrounded by Syrian positions.
The Only Road: Since the land routes were blocked, the only way to get supplies was by boat across the Sea of Galilee. There's a famous quote from back then: "This pier and this boat are our only road to the rest of the Jewish settlements."
The Water Crisis: Just as the Romans did, the soldiers struggled with thirst. The ancient 24km aqueducts were long gone, so the post was completely dependent on water being hauled up from the lake.
The Moat: That 7-meter-wide ancient ditch became the primary defence against Syrian infantry charges.
The Towers: The spots where the Romans kept their giant spear-throwing catapults were turned into modern machine-gun nests and observation points.
Concrete & Basalt: They built their bunkers (blindages) directly into the East Gate. In 1951, David Ben-Gurion even wrote to the locals saying his "heart was with them," knowing that the guys stationed among those basalt columns were the only thing keeping the peace.
It's as if the mountain itself dictates that whoever stands there—whether they speak Latin or Hebrew—has to use the same rocks and the same logic to survive.
This part of the story really explains why you see those weird concrete buildings alongside the ancient temples. It wasnwasn'tt a military base; it was a high-stakes survival game.
Here is the breakdown of the Susita Dining Hall and the "Sniper War:
"The Bold Midnight Raid (1948) Before May 1948, the Syrians owned the mountain. They used the height to rain fire down on Kibbutz Ein Gev. But on the night of June 17th, 1948, a group of kibbutzniks and soldiers pulled off a daring night attack and snatched the mountain back. From that moment until 1967, Susita became a lonely Israeli island in a Syrian sea.
The Sniper Threat: The Syrian army held the higher Golan plateau right above the city. They could see almost everything. To an Israeli soldier, a simple walk to lunch could be a death sentence.
Invisible Walls: Engineers designed the dining hall and the paths leading to it using deep trenches and concrete "scr" en" (p"rapets). They completely blocked the Syrian line of sight.
Camouflage: From the Syrian side, the dining hall was designed to look like just another pile of old rocks or a collapsed ancient wall. It was a 1950s building pretending to be a 2,000-year-old ruin.
The Lunch Run: Operation logs show that every movement to the dining hall was treated like a tactical mission.
The Safe Zone: Inside those thick concrete walls was the only place soldiers could actually breathe and relax for a second, knowing a sniper couldn't hit them.
Today, those concrete ruins are the only "mod" rn" gh "sts left in the city, standing as a reminder that for 19 years, this wasn't a tourist park—it was a literal shield for the people living in the valley below.
Looking out from the terrace of the old dining hall today, it's hard to believe how much tension used to fill this view. It's like a "live" history book where the peaceful blue of the Kinneret meets the scars of a 2,000-year struggle.
Here is why that specific viewpoint is so significant:
The "Lifeline" Pier If you look down toward the water's edge, you can still see the spot where the pier used to be. For nearly 20 years (1948–1967), that wasn't just a place to fish—it was a lifeline. During the winter, when the mud roads were totally washed out, that pier and a single boat were the only way to get food, mail, or medicine to the soldiers on the mountain. From right where you're standing, soldiers would watch the lights of Tiberias across the lake, feeling like they were on a lonely island.
Walking on Masterpieces When you look directly down from the dining hall terrace, you get a bird's-eye view of the archaeological digs.
The Colour Contrast: You can see the "stone game" perfectly—heavy black basalt blocks mixed with grey granite columns that once lined the fancy main streets.
The Hidden Art: Among the dark rocks, you'll spot flashes of colour from the mosaic floors. These ancient geometric patterns were meant to show off the city's wealth to Greek and Roman visitors.
It's one of the few places in the world where you can stand in a 1950s concrete bunker, look out over a 1st-century Roman city, and see the same view that both generations of soldiers used to scout for enemies.
This is probably my favourite part of the tour. Seeing that two-tone classic car with the Israeli plates parked near the ruins is just perfect. It'ss a bit of high-level historical humour: 2,000 years after the Greeks named the mountain" Horse City" (Hippos), Israelis brought a"Little Horse" on wheels back to the site.
Meet the Sussita—the car that became a national legend.
It honoured the famous Sussita fortress that was all over the news at the time.
It comes from the Hebrew word Sus (horse), making it the literal workhorse for a brand-new country.
The""Camel Foo"" LegendYou'lll eventually hear the most famous Israeli urban legend:""Camels love to eat Sussitas"" Unlike the Romans who built with heavy basalt, the creators of the Sussita used fiberglass. The joke was that the fibreglass contained straw so that camels would mistake the car for a snack. While camels didn't actually eat them (fibreglass is a terrible lunch), the myth stuck forever. It'ss the ultimate Israeli" dad joke""
A Masterpiece... Sort Of Look at those lines! It looks like a cross between a vintage fridge and a tiny spaceship.
Rust-proof: Since it was plastic, itdidn'tt rust—a huge plus for a country on the Mediterranean.
The Engine: Under the hood, it usually had a British Ford Anglia engine. So, the""Israeli Hors"" actually spoke with a bit of a British accent.
The Sabra Export: Israel actually tried to sell these in the US under the Sabra brand. Americans were a bit confused by the""plastic box"" but theycouldn'tt deny that it was impossible to corrode!
The""Stoo"" Comfort: To put it nicely, the interior was... tight.
Safety: While a Roman basalt pipe could handle massive water pressure, a fiberglass Sussitadidn'tt handle car crashes quite as heroically.
The Competition: Once Japanese small cars flooded the market, the Sussita began to look like a relic from the Stone Age (or the Basalt Age).
The Perfect Symbol Seeing the car next to the city is like a meeting of two""technological miracles"" One is made of eternal basalt and moved water with gravity; the other is made of plastic and moved on pure Israeli chutzpah. Both represent an era when people believed they could build anything—whether a city on a cliff or a car made of fibreglass.
Building Roman baths on top of a dry, isolated mountain was the ultimate ancient "flex." It proved that Roman engineers could bring luxury anywhere, no matter how hostile the landscape.
The Baths: A High-Tech Social Club The Thermae (baths) in the southern part of the city weren't just for getting clean; they were the heart of social life in Susita. If you wanted to hear the latest gossip or close a business deal, this was the place to be.
The 25km Commute: Water travelled 25 kilometres through the aqueduct system.
The Siphon: To get the water up the cliff, it was pushed through high-pressure stone pipes using the "communicating vessels" principle.
The Oven: Huge furnaces called praefurnia burned wood outside.
The Heat: Hot air circulated between those pillars, heating the marble floors from below. It got so hot that bathers had to wear thick wooden sandals to protect their feet from burning.
Imported Luxury: This granite (likely grey-pink from Egypt or Turkey) was shipped across the sea and hauled up the mountain just for show.
The Message: Basalt was for strength, but granite and marble were for status. It told everyone that Susita was a wealthy, "world-class" city.
The Big One: In 749 AD, a massive earthquake levelled the city.
The "Frozen" Moment: Most of the columns fell in the same direction, almost parallel to the ground. Archaeologists even found evidence that the water was still flowing through the pipes when the walls came crashing down. The city didn't just fade away; it literally lay down" in an instant.
While the temples and baths represent the "glamour" of the city, the residential quarters are where you find the real soul of Susita. This is where the local basalt stops being a building material and starts being a way of life.
Life in the "Black City" In the residential areas, you leave the wide, marble-lined avenues behind and enter a maze of narrow alleys and courtyards. This was the "Black City"—built almost entirely from the tough, dark basalt of the Golan.
The Courtyard Life: Most houses are centred around a courtyard paved with basalt slabs. This was the multi-tasking hub of the home where families cooked, did laundry, and stored their grain.
Vertical Living: The ground floors were built with thick basalt to support a second story, which was often made of wood.
Basalt Tools: Because basalt is hard and slightly porous, it was the "gold standard" for grinding.
Donkey Mills: In these courtyards, you'll see massive basalt millstones (meta and catillus). These were powered by donkeys or people, grinding the grain that fed the city. You might also spot heavy stone basins used for pressing olives into oil.
The Falling Giants: When the ground shook, the massive granite and marble columns from the fancy public buildings nearby didn't just fall—they crushed the houses next to them.
A Frozen Moment: You can see giant columns lying right on top of humble basalt floors. Because the city was never really rebuilt, it stayed exactly like that—a snapshot of a bustlingneighbourhoodd trapped forever under its own ruins.
The transition from Roman Hippos to Byzantine Sussita (5th–7th centuries) is the story of a pagan trading hub turning into a powerful religious fortress. It wasn't just a change in religion; it was a total social and architectural makeover.
Byzantine Sussita: The Holy Fortress In this era, Sussita became the seat of a Bishop and a major hub for pilgrims visiting the Sea of Galilee. This new "theocratic" identity changed the city's very face.
Ideological Flex: They used pagan Roman columns as doorsteps or foundations for churches. It was a way of literally "stepping on" the old gods.
Imperial Quality: You'll see high-quality grey granite and Proconnesian marble in the churches, mostly "borrowed" from older Roman temples to show off the city's status as an Episcopal centre.
A City of Eight Churches Even though the mountain is small, it is packed with at least eight churches. Money that used to go to theatres and stadiums was now poured into intricate mosaics and religious basilicas.
Survival Under Islam When the Muslims conquered the area in 635 AD, the city didn't fall. In fact, it thrived for another 100 years.
Continuity: The Christian community paid a tax (jizya) but kept their Bishop and their churches. Archaeologists found that churches were being repaired right up until the mid-8th century.
The Sudden End: The city didn't fade away slowly. The massive earthquake of 749 AD froze the city in its prime. When the ground shook, the columns fell, and the Byzantine era was perfectly "preserved" under the rubble.
This transition from the Roman Civil Basilica to the Byzantine Church is a perfect case study in what historians call "Functional Drift." It shows how a space for lawyers and traders became a space for priests and paupers.
From Roman Law to Byzantine Faith 1. The Roman Civic Hub (2nd–3rd Century AD) Originally, this wasn't a church at all. The Basilica was a massive rectangular hall used as a courthouse, a stock exchange, and a meeting place.
Imperial Luxury: The Corinthian capitals here—with their intricate acanthus-leaf carvings—are masterpieces of Roman stonecraft.
The "Stone Flex": Notice the contrast between the heavy local basalt bases and the imported white limestone or marble columns. It was designed to look expensive and authoritative.
Ornate Details: Look for the "egg-and-dart" patterns (Ionic cymatium) on the fragments of the friezes. These weren't just buildings; they were Roman status symbols.
Recycling (Spolia): The Byzantines dismantled parts of the civil hall to build their churches. You can see where they used rougher, denser basalt masonry compared to the elegant Roman work.
Personal Touches: In the "Northwest Church," we find inscriptions naming specific people, such as Bishop Megas and brothers Eusebius and Jovius.
The Greek Mistakes: The 6th-century mosaics here contain glaring grammatical and spelling errors in the Greek text. This tells us that by this time, Greek was becoming a "dead" language in Susita—something priests used for liturgy, but the local mosaic artists couldn't actually speak or spell correctly.
Symeonius the Jeweller: Inscriptions mention a man named Symeonius, a goldsmith who also served as a deacon. This proves your hunch: the lives of ordinary tradespeople and the church were completely intertwined in these neighbourhoods.
The Oldest Nursing Home? A mosaic was found with a unique blessing: "Peace to the Elders" (Irene tois presbyterois).
Ancient Charity: Archaeologists think this late 4th-century building might be one of the earliest examples of a charitable home for older people. It's decorated with peaceful images of Egyptian geese, cypress trees, and fruit—a quiet sanctuary in a busy city.
You are absolutely right. I slipped up again! I think I'm getting too absorbed in the fascinating history of the basalt stones and the Roman Empire you've shared. I promise I'm paying attention now—no more "empathy glitches" into Russian.
Here is the English breakdown of that grand connection between the Forum and the Basilica:
The Link Between the Forum and the Basilica In Roman Hippo, architecture served as a tool of psychological control. The way the Forum (the outdoor heart) connected to the Basilica (the indoor hall) was designed to make you feel the power of the Empire.
The Transition: You walked through a monumental portico (a covered walkway) and entered a massive, cool, and solemn space.
The Visual Signal: Outside, you were a citizen among equals. Inside the Basilica, you were facing the Law, the judges, or the Emperor himself.
The Floor: You walked on local black basalt in the Forum, but as you climbed the steps into the Basilica, you were greeted by imported white marble and grand granite columns.
The Hierarchy: This contrast showed you where the city's money and authority were concentrated. The Basilica was the tallest building on the plateau—it literally "loomed" over the public square.
Order and Law The rows of columns (the ones you see lying on the ground today) created a rhythmic perspective. They acted like a visual funnel, leading your eyes straight to the tribunal—the raised platform where the judges sat. At the far end, a statue of the Emperor usually stood in an apse, meaning every step inside was an act of loyalty to Rome.
A Lasting Foundation The Romans built this connection so well that the Byzantines couldn't ignore it. When they converted the city to Christianity, they "re-skinned" the space. They turned the hall of judgment into a hall of prayer, but they kept the same grand entrance from the Forum that had been used for centuries.
The Forum of Susita (Hippos) is more than just an open square; it's a masterclass in Roman logistics and engineering. Here is the breakdown of what makes this space so unique:
The Piecework System: Stonemasons were paid by the job. Since marking every single slab was too time-consuming, they used a clever shortcut.
The "Pack" Method: A wagon would be loaded with a stack of basalt slabs. The mason would carve his mark only on the top stone.
The Tally: When the delivery arrived at the Forum, the site foreman would count the marked stones and multiply them by the standard number of slabs per "pack" to calculate the pay for the workers' guild.
The Durability: These basalt slabs have stayed almost perfectly level for nearly 2,000 years.
The Skill: Basalt is incredibly hard and difficult to work with, yet the gaps between these stones are minimal. It's a testament to the high level of engineering accuracy in the Roman period.
Function vs Fashion: The functional parts—the road and foundations—are made of tough, local grey basalt.
Status Symbols: The decorative parts—the columns and capitals—are made of expensive, imported white marble and granite. It was the ultimate way to show that even on a remote mountain, Rome had the resources to bring in luxury from across the sea.
The Final Second: They fell simultaneously, turning this bustling political and social hub into ruins in just a few seconds.
The Porticos: On the edges, you can see where covered walkways (porticos) once stood, allowing citizens to talk politics and trade while staying protected from the sun or rain.
The Western Gate and the layout of Susita reveal a fascinating truth about the city: it was designed to be a "fortress in the clouds." Unlike most cities, Susita was a one-way street when it came to major traffic.
The "Cul-de-Sac" in the Sky 1. The Only Way In The city had only one real land entrance—the narrow neck of land to the East.
The Lifeline: Every wagon of grain, every visitor, and every single basalt slab used for the Forum had to arrive through the East Gate from the Golan Heights.
Natural Defence: Because the mountain is surrounded by cliffs on almost every side, the East was the only vulnerable point and, therefore, the most heavily fortified.
Not a Road, but a View: The gates and columns you see at the western end of the Forum didn't lead to a road down to the lake. Instead, they opened up to a lookout point or public buildings perched on the very edge of the abyss.
The Final Point: This was the city's "cul-de-sac." Citizens would walk the length of the city, pass through the bustling Forum, and reach these decorative gates as the grand finale of the urban space.
Decorative Grandeur: The columns and "Propylaea" (monumental gateways) here were purely for style. They served as a frame for the sky and the water below, emphasising that beyond these stones lay nothing but the horizon.
The Western Gate serves as the grand finale of the city's main axis, leading us into one of the most sophisticated chapters of life in Susita: the Odeon.
The Odeon: Culture on the Edge Stepping through the western gates didn't lead to a dead end, but rather into a cultural "cluster" perched dramatically over the cliffside.
Capacity: About 400 people.
The Purpose: This was a venue for "high" culture—poetry readings, musical performances (often featuring the lyre), and likely meetings of the city council (the Bouleuterion).
The Contrast: If the Forum was the place for noisy politics and haggling, the Odeon was the zone for intellectual leisure and philosophy.
The Backdrop: Imagine sitting in these basalt seats, listening to music, while the Sea of Galilee and the setting sun were visible through the openings behind the performers.
The Layout: You can still see the semi-circular contours typical of theatre architecture, built with massive basalt foundations to anchor the building to the very edge of the plateau.
They managed to fit a sophisticated cultural centre into a very limited and steep space, using the mountain's natural slope to support the seating.
It remains one of the few objects of its kind in the region that preserves such a clear connection between urban planning and the natural landscape.
This final chapter of Susita's story is what transformed it from a dangerous, besieged outpost into the peaceful archaeological park you see today. Between 1948 and 1967, the atmosphere here wasn't one of historical wonder, but of constant, grinding tension.
1967: The Breakthrough from the Abyss 1. The "Underdog" Position Before 1967, the military situation here was a nightmare for the Israeli soldiers stationed on the hill.
The High Ground: Even though the Israelis held Susita, the Syrian army held the much higher Golan plateau (where Kibbutz Afik and Kfar Haruv stand today).
The Sniper's View: From their positions above, the Syrians could see every single movement on Susita and every boat on the Kinneret. Susita was the "eyes" for Kibbutz Ein Gev below, but it was constantly under surveillance from above.
The Shelling: Syrian artillery from the surrounding heights literally "ploughed" the plateau. The soldiers you saw in those old photos had to stay deep inside their basalt-reinforced bunkers to survive the barrage.
The Landscape Barrier: Because there were no proper roads leading up the steep western slopes, it was impossible to bring up tanks or heavy armour. Susita was an island of infantry in a sea of fire.
The Strategy: Israeli forces (primarily the 80th Paratrooper Brigade and the Carmeli Brigade) didn't just charge straight up the cliffs. They used Susita as a pivot point.
The Air and Ground Move: While infantry scrambled up the mine-filled, wire-tangled slopes, paratroopers were dropped by helicopters behind the Syrian lines on the Golan plateau.
The Collapse: By the evening of June 10, the Syrian positions (such as the one at Muzil overlooking Susita) were neutralised. The Syrian army began a rapid retreat toward Damascus.
Peace in the Valley: For the first time in 19 years, the people in the kibbutzim below (Ein Gev, HaOn) could turn off their searchlights and sleep without fear of shelling.
The Archaeologists Arrive: The mountain went from a "closed military zone" to a historical treasure chest.
It's a powerful thought: the reason we can stand here today and calmly debate the beauty of a Corinthian capital is because of that frantic, violent 24-hour period in 1967 that pushed the front line miles away from this cliff.
The memorial plaque dedicated to Lieutenant Rami Zait brings our journey from the ancient world into the modern reality of this mountain. It serves as a sombre bridge between the Roman soldiers who once guarded these cliffs and the Israeli soldiers who did the same 2,000 years later.
The Modern Fortress: A Strategic Enclave The inscription on the stone reads: "Lieutenant Rami Zait, commander of this place, fell in the line of duty at the Sussita post on Independence Day 5727 (1967)."
The Enclave: Sussita was an Israeli enclave, isolated on the eastern shore of the Sea of Galilee and surrounded by Syrian positions on the Golan Heights above.
The Guardian: It was the only fortified Israeli point on this side of the lake, standing on the same "impregnable" mountain we've been exploring.
The Date: He fell on May 15, 1967—Israel's Independence Day.
The Context: This was just three weeks before the outbreak of the Six-Day War, the conflict that would finally push the borders away from these cliffs and secure the region.
The Southern Bastion is a fascinating place where military grit literally became the foundation for civilian luxury. It's the spot where you can see how the "Pax Romana" (Roman Peace) changed the city's skyline.
The Bastion: From Ballistas to Bathhouses 1. The Front Line of Defence Before the baths were built, this southern cliff was home to a massive Roman Bastion.
The Fortress: It consisted of four large halls and two heavy towers, designed to stop any army from scrambling up the mountain from the valley below.
The Artillery: Inside, the Romans stationed ballistas—powerful catapults. Archaeologists found numerous 18-kilogram basalt cannonballs here, proving the city was locked and loaded, ready for a serious siege.
The "Little Boot": This type of footwear gave Emperor Caligula his nickname.
Linguistic Legacy: An interesting fact from the site's display is that the Hebrew word Kalgas (a cruel or brutal soldier) actually comes from the Latin Caliga. It's a linguistic scar that shows just how much fear these "hobnailed" soldiers struck into the local population.
The Shift: During the 2nd century AD, the Roman Empire felt so secure that many military sites were converted for civilian use.
Peaceful Foundations: The bastion's thick walls served as a sturdy base for the heavy water tanks and furnaces of the thermal baths. It was a symbolic move: a place of war turned into a place of relaxation.
The View: From this cliff, you can see the entire southern shore of the Lake and every approach to the mountain.
Strategic Reality: Whether you are using a ballista or a modern rifle, the military logic remains the same—whoever holds this cliff controls the valley.
The Cathedral of Susita (also known as the Central Church or the Bishop's Basilica) is the crown jewel of the city's Byzantine era. It wasn't just a place of worship; it was the seat of power for the entire region.
The Cathedral: The Bishop's Seat Built between the late 5th and early 6th centuries, this was the largest and most opulent church in Susita. As a cathedral, it housed the Bishop's official throne (cathedra).
Recycling for the Faith This site contains the highest concentration of spolia in the city. The Christians physically moved massive grey granite and marble columns from ruined Roman temples and the civil basilica to build this Cathedral. It was a massive logistical effort designed to give the new faith an ancient, imperial feel.
The Altar and the "Synthronon" The excavations revealed a remarkably preserved altar area that proves the church's high status:
The Synthronon: You can still see the semi-circular stone benches in the apse where the Bishop and the high-ranking priests sat during services.
Reliquaries: Beneath the altar, archaeologists found special niches designed to hold the holy relics of saints, a key feature for an important pilgrimage site.
High Art: The floors were covered in intricate geometric patterns, birds, fish, and baskets of fruit.
The Connection: The sheer quality of the work suggests the community had direct artistic and financial ties to Constantinople, the heart of the Byzantine Empire.
The Baptistery: Right next door is a room with a baptismal font.
Administrative Hub: The complex included living quarters and offices where the affairs of the entire diocese were managed.
The Fall: The columns lie in perfect, parallel rows, showing the exact direction of the shockwave.
The "Time Capsule": When the roof collapsed, the wooden beams and clay tiles fell directly onto the mosaic floors, "sealing" them away and protecting them from the elements for 1,200 years until modern archaeologists uncovered them.
This spot features one of the most stunning floors in the city, and it is the key to identifying this space as the Baptistery located in the southern apse of the Cathedral.
The Opus Sectile: The Peak of Luxury What you see here isn't a standard mosaic made of small cubes (tesserae), but Opus Sectile. This technique involved cutting thin plates of natural colored marble into precise geometric shapes. In the Byzantine world, this was the ultimate "flex"—far more expensive and prestigious than a regular mosaic.
Sacred Geometry The diamond pattern you photographed decorated the space surrounding the baptismal font. The use of imported marble in various shades wasn't just for aesthetic purposes; it underscored the sacred importance of the baptismal rite.
The Rite of Passage At the centre of this room, there was once a massive font, often carved from a single block of stone (sometimes in the shape of a cross).
Symbolic Transition: Moving from the rough, dark basalt of the common residential streets into this room with its smooth, glowing marble floor symbolised a person's spiritual journey from "worldly darkness" into "divine light."
This place is the Photisterion (from the Greek for "Place of Enlightenment")—the baptistery adjacent to the Cathedral. It isn't just a simple room; it is the largest structure of its kind ever found in Israel.
The Photisterion: A Centre for Mass Enlightenment 1. The Engineering of the Rite In the centre of the room is the deep baptismal font. If you look closely at the edge, you can still see the remains of a lead pipe.
"Living Water": This pipe supplied "living" (running) fresh water to the font, which was a strict requirement for the baptismal ceremony.
The Architecture: The apse is built with a striking contrast—dark basalt at the base and lighter stone at the top, framed by the luxurious marble and mosaic floors we discussed earlier.
Mass Conversions: This was a period of intense religious activity. Large numbers of locals—both Jews and pagans—were converting to Christianity under Byzantine rule.
The Bishop's Role: The sheer size of this separate building suggests that the Bishop of Sussita personally performed mass baptisms here for the growing community.
A Religious Superpower The fact that this is the largest baptistery in the country proves that in the late 6th century, Sussita was not a provincial backwater. It was a massive religious centre, rivalling Jerusalem in the quality and scale of its church architecture.
The Peak Before the Fall In the illustration, you can see the priest immersing a believer into the cross-shaped (or clover-shaped) font, symbolising rebirth and purification. It is poignant to realise that all this grandeur was created only about 150 years before the 749 AD earthquake "sealed" the city. We are looking at Sussita at the absolute height of its power.
The road connecting Susita to the Golan Heights (leading toward modern-day Kibbutz Afik) is one of the most dramatic and strategically vital stretches of land in Israel. Today, it is a rugged path of weathered asphalt and sharp basalt, passable only by heavy 4x4 vehicles or determined hikers, but for centuries, it was the city's only lifeline.
The "Umbilical Cord" of the City 1. The Only Way In Because Susita is a "cliff-island" surrounded by abysses on three sides, this narrow "saddle" (the land bridge to the East) was the only way to reach the city.
The Logistics of Grandeur: Every single granite column, every basalt slab for the Forum, and every wagon of grain had to be hauled by oxen up this steep, winding serpentine.
The Engineering Feat: The famous Susita Aqueduct followed this exact path. Ancient engineers used the natural slope of this ridge to pipe water under pressure from the springs of the Golan (near modern Afik) directly into the city's reservoirs. Without this road, the city couldn't exist.
The Siege: For the Israeli soldiers stationed at the Susita outpost between 1948 and 1967, this narrow ridge was their only connection to the outside world.
The Crosshairs: The road was entirely exposed. Syrian positions at the top of the Golan Heights (near Afik and Kfar Haruv) looked directly down on it. Delivering food or ammunition was a suicidal mission, as any vehicle could be picked off by Syrian artillery from above.
The Surge: Israeli paratroopers and infantry pushed up this very ridge to capture the Syrian positions at the top.
The Result: Taking the heights above Susita finally broke the 19-year siege and secured the safety of the kibbutzim in the valley below.
Moving from the basalt ruins of Susita to the Tzemach Station (historically known as Samakh) is a leap into the industrial age and the global conflicts of the 20th century. If Susita is a story of an ancient fortress, Tzemach is the story of the "Valley Train" and the legends of the Great War.
Tzemach Station: Where Empires Collided Opened in 1905, this station was a vital link in the Hejaz Railway—specifically the Valley Train (Rakevet HaEmek), which connected Haifa on the Mediterranean coast directly to Damascus.
Ottoman Engineering, German Style Ottoman engineers designed the main station building under German supervision. You can still see that distinctive "imperial" architectural style. Today, it has been beautifully restored and serves as part of the Kinneret College campus, blending academic life with historic preservation.
The Great Cavalry Charge (September 25, 1918) The museum highlights one of the most cinematic episodes of World War I. Tzemach was the site of one of the last classic cavalry charges in history.
The Australian Light Horse: In a daring night attack, Australian soldiers charged across unfamiliar terrain directly toward Turkish and German machine-gun nests.
Hand-to-Hand Combat: The battle was incredibly fierce, with fighting happening house-to-house and room-to-room throughout the station complex. It is considered a pinnacle of Australian military bravery.
A Hidden History: For a long time, the contribution of Indigenous Australians to the Light Horse regiments was overlooked. This monument finally pays tribute to their skill as horsemen and their sacrifice so far from home.
The Tracks: You can still see the original narrow-gauge tracks (1050 mm) used by the Ottoman trains.
The Transformation: The station has evolved from a scene of war and trade into a modern centre for education and history. It shows how the "Valley Train" once revolutionised life in the region, opening it up to pilgrimage and global commerce.
Finishing your trip at Hummus Eliyahu is the perfect way to wrap up the day. After hiking through the basalt ruins of Susita and exploring the history of the Tzemach railway, a warm, hearty meal is exactly what you need.
Hummus Eliyahu: A Culinary "Refuel" Located in the Mall Kinneret at the Tzemach Junction, this branch is just a stone's throw from the historic station. It's famous for its signature warm, creamy texture, prepared fresh right when you order.
The "Refill" Rule: One of their best perks is that you can often get a free refill of the hummus itself if you're still hungry.
Sweet Finish: They usually offer complimentary lemonade and coffee with cookies at the end of the meal—the ultimate Israeli hospitality.
The Base: Warm hummus and rich tahini.
The Toppings: Warm chickpeas (nana), ful (slow-cooked fava beans), and a hard-boiled egg.
The Sides: It always comes with fluffy, pillowy pitas, pickles, and fresh onion (the traditional "spoon" for scooping hummus).