A thoughtful and careful account of a veteran if quite young professional trekker from the Irish North who spends five months walking through the West Bank, Jordan, and the Sinai, ending at Mount Horeb in a moving scene. To be fair, he then spends three weeks in Israel, to correct possible distortions picked up in Arab realms--and given many Irish of late (you should hear my family and friends lay on, but on the other hand, click on any journalist from that North Atlantic Archipelago), as well as British, lean towards hostility towards a "Zionist entity"--to round out understandings about the other side on this geological and ideological Great Rift. McCarron's jaunt occurs ca. 2015, while tensions over ISIS in the volatile region rise. I originally reviewed this twenty days into the (latest, alas) Israeli-Hamas conflict. As I update it at the start of 2025, my curiosity only deepens.
I wanted to learn more about both the Palestinian predicament on the ground and the "feel" in their beleaguered neighbor as Jordan, literally smack/ed in the middle of the Middle East maelstrom. He recounts his humanist walk clearly and patiently. Usually free from any drama. But relative calm is refreshing, as many travelers' tales told by raconteurs from his part of the world tend towards the snide, the satirical, the simpering, and/or the snobbish. What I don't "get" is why so little's penned about Jordan itself, nowadays. Gertrude Bell and Lawrence of Arabia a century ago still loom largest.
Certainly a standout section regaled at least this clumsy, landlubber, awed reader. An account of rock-climbing at its clambering, vertiginous, and jaw-dropping best. This one vignette exemplifies McCarron's attention to its telling detail, its narrative foundation, and its character study milieux.
The chronicler's "borderline" background enables him to listen to everyday folks he meets. (And is there anywhere on the planet free of finicky Teutons, whether Dutch, Flemish, Schweizer, or plain Deutsch?) His conversational descriptions, nuanced observations about the thrust of a Holy Land on its residents ancient--as in Samaritans and Bedouin--or today's settlers and soldiers of the IDF demonstrate his fair-minded intentions to figure out, on a face-to-face dialogue (rather than a press junket, a drive-past truism, or a package tour) intricacies of mundane life off any beaten path.
P.S. It took him too long to explain that he knew Gulf Arabic well enough to converse convincingly with natives. I kept scratching my head for a stretch wondering how he was grasping so much in his chats when for the great majority of his lonely route, he lacked any translator. While the photos appended help one visualize settings, I wish more illustrations were included, and interspersed in the travelogue proper for maximum impact. Insights delving into an under-examined, shrewd, sly, wary Hashemite Kingdom may have narrowed a glaring gap in travel writing. (My net search finds a scarce slew skewing contemporary, save Queen Noor's autobiography, a émigré's memoir, another by a German, inevitably, wanderer marrying a Bedouin man at the tourist mecca of Petra.) It's at a dramatic intersection of adventurers over millennia, a primordial track, Africa bridged into Eurasia.