A short walk in Lebanon
23 September 2024
Waking early, I set out on the Baskinta Literary Trail with my fellow travellers, eager to walk in the footsteps of Lebanon’s literary giants. The Anti-Lebanon mountains loomed ahead, their craggy slopes already alight with the soft glow of dawn. It was a moment that brought to mind Amin Maalouf’s reflections in Origins, where he speaks of this land with the awe of one who understands its deep connection to identity and history. Lebanon is not merely a country of valleys and peaks — it is a story etched into every stone, every path that leads up and down its mountainous folds.
As I began, the trail welcomed me with an easy descent into lush valleys. The ground beneath my boots shifted from rocky dirt to patches of wildflowers and shrubs. Soon, I heard the gentle murmurs of a stream — a rivulet that wove through the valley floor, born from melting snow higher up. I sat down for a few moments, mesmerised by the sound of the running water. Then, with a leap from rock to rock, I crossed it, the cool air rising from the water a refreshing promise of what lay ahead.
The trail then ascended, and the trees thinned, revealing breathtaking panoramas. Below, the valley was a deep cradle of green, while up above, the sky was endless and blue, with the snow-capped heights of the Anti-Lebanon range shimmering like white-crowned sentinels.
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Before long, the Mausoleum of Mikhail Naimy came into view, a simple yet powerful homage to one of Lebanon’s great literary figures. Standing there, overlooking the valleys where Naimy had once wandered, I felt a reverence not just for the man but for the power of the land itself — a land that birthed poets and philosophers. His words about nature and the divine felt more alive here, where the very mountains seemed to hum with an ancient, unspoken wisdom.
The trail steepened, and soon I found myself at the site where the Patriarch had been ambushed centuries ago, an event shrouded in the mist of history and legend. The place still felt charged with tension, as though the rocks themselves had witnessed the violence and carried its weight. Not for the first time, I felt grateful to the members of the Lebanese armed forces who accompanied our little group. But the stark beauty of the mountains lightened that feeling — a contrast that reminded me of the resilience and complexity of this landscape, much like the people who have long called it home.
As the day wore on, I ascended further, leaving behind the verdant valleys and entering the high, cold reaches of the mountains. Snow crunched beneath my boots, and the air was sharp and invigorating. Every step felt like walking on the edge of the world, surrounded by jagged peaks and dizzying drops. Here, the land was stripped bare, elemental in its majesty. It was easy to understand how Maalouf could see Lebanon as a place of contradictions, where the harshness of the land mirrors the tumult of its history, yet its beauty softens even the hardest truths.
Descending into Kfardebian, I was greeted by the majestic ruins of Faqra, a testament to Lebanon’s ancient past. The Roman and Byzantine structures stood silent yet imposing, their pillars and arches framed by the snow-touched peaks beyond. It was hard not to feel a connection to those who had come before — people who had built, fought, lived, and left their mark on this rugged, magnificent land. Maalouf, in Origins, speaks of the intertwining of personal and national history, and here it felt tangible: the stones, the ruins, the mountains, all whispered of a past that was both universal and deeply intimate.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the landscape, I paused to take it all in — this land of contradictions, of beauty and struggle, of poets and conquerors. The journey had been a mosaic of terrains, from the babbling streams in the valleys to the frozen heights above, but more than that, it was a journey through Lebanon’s soul. Just as Maalouf had woven his family’s story into the broader tapestry of Lebanon, I felt my own small story become part of the endless narrative of these mountains. Here, in the heart of the Anti-Lebanon, history, literature, and landscape all came together, a testament to the enduring magic of this land.
