Rosh HaNikra is a headland of white chalk on Israel's border with Lebanon, dropping seventy metres straight into the Mediterranean. The rock is soft, and that has decided everything about it. Winter storms worked the cracks into some two hundred metres of linked chambers, and they are still working them. A walkway goes from room to room over bridges and ledges cut into the rock, with the swell thumping behind the wall and another arch opening on the sea every few steps. On a calm day the water inside goes glassy and you can pick out pale stones several metres down, the white floor throwing the light back up. From the dark at the back of a chamber the mouth becomes a bright blue window, and the people ahead of you turn to silhouettes.
Soft rock is also easy to tunnel, and armies noticed. British engineers bored a railway line through the headland in 1941 and 1942 so trains could run from Haifa on to Beirut and Tripoli. Part of that tunnel is now the way you come in, lit and dry, and it stops at rock: the line beyond has been sealed since 1948. The armistice between Israel and Lebanon was signed here in 1949, in the customs house on the cliff. The others that year were settled on Rhodes; this one was settled on the border itself. The cable car down is pitched at sixty degrees, so you spend most of its two minutes looking straight down the white face. Three small islands lie about 800 metres offshore, closed to people since 1965 so terns and gulls can nest; the cliff top is as close as anyone gets. The site itself keeps closing. War shut it, and in the quiet months a Mediterranean monk seal moved into the empty grottoes. Fewer than a thousand of them are left alive, and researchers have since been adapting caves along this coast to give it somewhere undisturbed.