Into the Jordan Valley!

Above: A premonition on Mount Nebo? No such luck, I'm working blind. But the similarities between myself and Moses are stacking up...

Above: At the Dead Sea sign, just around the corner from the Mount Nebo carpark, and just before the long fall into the Jordan Valley.

Above: You may get some sense of the vertical drop over the edge into the Jordan Valley from where I'm standing, although granted the photo is not good. (I hate to blame my equipment, but the lens on my rather cheap video camera is poor.) It's about 6 km of pure cycling exhilaration straight down the mountain from here, the road twisting back and forth like a confused serpent, before the it smooths out somewhat into downhill sanity for the last 5 km onto the flats.
There's hardly any traffic, and up to the left and right, all around this crusty, dry landscape, Bedouins camp, and herd their camels, goats and sheep. It's a nice run!
I did hear the barking of dogs from an encampment about half way down the hill, and had momentary visions (with accompanying fear spasms) of getting chased by ugly Bedouin mastiffs, genetically bred some one thousand years back to maul Crusaders. I quickened my pace, as you do, and the barking receded. I must say, after all these years cycling, I still ask the question, 'What is it with dogs and bikes?'

Above: Almost at the bottom. The Jordan River runs from the right (north to south), emptying into the Dead Sea, centre.

Above: Down in the Jordan Valley, looking back up to Mount Nebo, and further over the mountain range to Madaba town.

Above: At the bottom, with Dawood the coffee boy. The Dead Sea is a further 3 km to the right (south). It was blazing hot, and dusty, but Dawood was seeing me right...

Above: The best coffee in the Jordan Valley! It's served sweet, black and strong, in the Arabic way. About 40 cents a cup.
After a coffee and a rest, the plan was to cycle down to the Dead Sea, stay the night, and early next morning head up to the nearby Baptism Site on the Jordan River, the place where John the Baptist ostensibly baptised Jesus. Later I would backtrack my route north and cross into Palestine-Israel at the King Abdullah Bridge, about 20 km away. All going well, I figured I'd be into Jerusalem by nightfall.
In effect, Jerusalem would mark the 'start' of the ride, even though I'd entered the Middle East through Amman.
Anyway, that was the plan. Moses had a plan, I had a plan, and the devil loves plans too.