It is not quite mid-morning, but the sun is blazing hot. Even a wide umbrella seems inadequate. The mouth is parched and the tongue is threatening to permanently stick to the roof despite frequent infusions of water.
And yet, these are just mild inconveniences in the face of the stunning sight in front. Spread out is dark ochre uneven ground, strewn with pebbles and rocks. The surface is broken only by groups of ruins scattered over a stunning mesa (a plateau with steep sides) of Masada overlooking the Dead Sea in Israel.
Located in the middle of the Judean desert about 200 km from Tel Aviv, the ruined fortification city of Masada sits on a rocky 400-metre high plateau. Built between BC 37 and 31 by Judean king Herod the Great, Masada is a bit of a dichotomy.
Even though Herod was a client king of the Roman empire, Masada was built as a refuge against the Romans and everything points to impregnability under prolonged attacks and harsh conditions.
Just how intimidating it becomes evident at the foot of the plateau, the whole of which has been designated a national park. On a pleasant day soon after daybreak, trekking up is doable. But on a blazing day with temperatures hovering around 40 degrees Celsius, it’s not something to be attempted. Park authorities strictly monitor the trekking path and shut it down when temperatures begin to soar. Instead, a swanky cable car whisks visitors up the cliff within minutes.
Once out of the cable car, the heat hits you like a wall. The sprawling surface stretches 550 metres long and 270 metres wide. Almost the entire perimeter once had a running fort wall, parts of which are no longer in existence. Scattered everywhere are ruins of structures, though the north is where there’s a concentration of them. Over a thousand people lived here, and there is evidence of an elaborate setup to cater to their needs.
The most fascinating structures are the huge bathhouses with beautiful murals in earth tones and equipped with a sophisticated system of supplying and heating water. There are water reservoirs and a complex system of siphons and channels to bring it up to the top of the plateau, synagogues, storehouses, a pigeon house where the birds were bred for food, and to houses.
Masada was also about Herod making a statement about his power and wealth. At the northern tip perched precariously at the edge is Herod’s lavish and beautiful palace. The views from here of the valley, cliffs and peaks and the Dead Sea are superlative. The palace is spread over three levels, each separated by 30-40 feet. Some of the pillars are still intact.
Masada’s impregnability was intact for over three decades, but the Romans finally mounted a gigantic attack and Masada yielded in 73 AD. Inhabited at that time by zealots who had taken refuge during the Jewish rebellion against the Roman empire, Masada stood little chance against the superior force and strategy of the Romans.
Their army scooped up dirt from the desert and lumped it against the plateau to form a ramp (the Roman Ramp still exists and is one of the trekking routes to access Masada) and then rolled into the city.
According to legend, the siege lasted months, and in the end, 900 rebels committed mass suicide.
Nevertheless, for all its magnificence, there’s also an inescapable sense of melancholy in the atmosphere. Masada is a constant presence in the collective Jewish consciousness and is held as a symbol of Jewish downfall, something that Israelites have to guard against. Under the harsh sun, it is not difficult to understand how this sentiment is personified in the bleak landscape.