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I point to the monstrous peak in the distance and in jest announce to my travel companions that thisis Mt. Shlomo, the mountain we are about to ascend, winking conspiratorially at Erez the guide. Having never actually seen Mt. Shlomo before, it doesn’t occur to me that the gargantuan black peak I’m pointing at is indeed the destination that plucky Erez intends and probably why he is avoiding any eye contact.

Nonetheless, six hours later, ten of us intrepid women ages 44 to 70, red-cheeked and sweaty,roar triumphantly at the summit. This, after a harrowing and deliciously exciting climb that includes hanging onto metal loops, nimble, careful steps on narrow paths, and an innovative hiking technique developed craftily by our group: the butt slide down scary precipices. Our reward is great: a breathtaking view of Jordan, Egypt and the Aravah Desert, not to mention the heady feeling of empowerment having accomplished such a tremendous feat.

I am a 55 year old woman accompanying a group of fellow female adventurers on a hiking tour in Israel and having the most extraordinary time of my life. I feel like the 19 year old I once was back as a student on a one year program at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, exploring some of the very same paths: exhausted, exhilarated and on top of the world. I believe those walking treks back then were what solidified my love affair with Israel and what has kept me so connected to the land. I see the same affectionate sentiment on the faces of the women who share this adventure with me. It is one of the most rewarding benefits of my entrepreneurship.

WomenWalkers Travel is born of my midlife crisis. Tame, compared with the male version mostly associated with acquiring Maseratis, hair transplants and skinnier wives, my midlife crisis simply requires a three-liter waterpack, some good solid hiking boots
and a hat. The women who join me get what I’m doing. Maybe because they too are having their own crises. Or maybe because when women get together they just seem to meld naturally.

They arrive in Israel from all over the world decked in their hiking gear along with a pair of “let’s get going” furrowed brows. And then before you know it we’ve scaled a mountain or two, rappelled down a waterfall, leaped into a great pool of water, and crawled through a cave, all in time to wolf down our trout at a fish restaurant on the Sea of Galilee.

We do some pretty serious hiking but we’re hardly a serious group. In fact, between trekking, and bathroom stops the main agenda is laughing. We laugh until we have to quickly make it to another bathroom. After all, most of us are over 40. What we don’t laugh at are some of the intense feelings that surface over the course of our eleven day journey. Hiking Israel rouses a profound connection with the land and a special intimacy that cannot be experienced in any other way. Witnessing the startling appearance of two ibexes butting horns,coming across a rainbow of pink and white cyclamen and purple anemones, seeing the first golden rays of sunrise, and walking in the very steps where a copious procession of human history has preceded us is nothing short of a miracle.

The other miracle is the sisterly bond that forms in just eleven days. From lone travelers we become a family: warm, caring, and supportive. The final stragglers to make it to the top of Masada are greeted by whooping cheers from their comrades. Arms reach out instinctively to help one another up the side of a canyon. We share our snacks, our sunscreen,our moleskins and bandaids and our secrets. We reprimand one another for not wearing hats, for not eating breakfast and for not buying the expensive bracelets that we deserve.

I have had the honor of hiking Israel with my new formed families six times traveling from the Galilee with its lush fields and wildflowers to the Aravah Desert, with its rolling sand dunes and desert canyons and each time I see something new. Each time the excitement and wonderment of this glorious country is awakened in me. I am 19 again on an adventure of a lifetime.