At around 450 meters above sea level, nestled between the whispering olive groves and weather-worn ridges of the Beirut River Valley, the middle-lower section near Deir Khouna pulses with quiet beauty. It is here that nature enthusiast André Bechara has been training his lens—not only to capture breathtaking images but also to reframe how Lebanon sees its wild heart.
Bechara’s recent series from Deir Khouna offers an intimate portrayal of a valley long overlooked and often mischaracterized. His photos reveal layers of life: tangled canopies of Mediterranean oak, the shimmer of water slipping over ancient stone, and the shifting colors of dusk that wash the valley in golden hues. “There’s a certain magic here,” Bechara said. “It’s not just landscape—it’s legacy, resilience, and promise.”
His images have gone viral among Lebanon’s conservation and hiking communities, inspiring both awe and action. And they come at a pivotal moment.
A National Park in the Making
The Ministry of Environment is now setting the stage for something unprecedented in Lebanon’s environmental landscape: the official designation of the Beirut River Valley as a national park. According to senior sources within the ministry, the proposal aligns with the 2019 National Law for Nature Reserves in Lebanon, which laid out updated criteria for establishing and managing protected areas across the country.
“This valley represents one of the last ecological corridors linking Mount Lebanon to the coast,” said a spokesperson from the ministry. “It’s vital not only for wildlife migration but also for climate resilience, water conservation, and cultural heritage.”
The proposed park would span key stretches of the river from its highland origins in the Qaraoun basin down to its urban mouth in Bourj Hammoud. Deir Khouna—thanks in part to Bechara’s compelling documentation—has emerged as a core zone within the planned protected area, celebrated for its biodiversity, scenic value, and relatively intact ecosystems.
A Living Corridor of Nature and Culture
Unlike traditional parks that isolate nature from people, the Beirut River Valley park plan embraces a landscape conservation model. It aims to harmonize conservation with sustainable agriculture, heritage tourism, and community-led stewardship. Local municipalities, civil society organizations, and academic institutions have been invited to contribute to the park’s development and long-term governance.
The valley is home to an array of flora and fauna, including wild boar, porcupines, chameleons, and rare orchids. Centuries-old terraces, Maronite chapels, and traditional irrigation canals add layers of cultural significance. Yet for decades, it has also been the site of environmental degradation—from illegal quarrying and deforestation to unregulated waste dumping and construction.
From Forgotten to Protected
The push to recognize the Beirut River Valley as a national park builds on years of grassroots advocacy. Organizations like the Society for the Protection of Nature in Lebanon (SPNL), Al Matn Organization for Environment & Sustainable Development (MESD), and local hiker networks have led clean-up campaigns, conducted biodiversity surveys, and lobbied for greater protection.
Bechara’s work has added emotional and aesthetic momentum to the campaign. His photos, some taken from precarious ridgelines and fog-shrouded forests, don’t just document nature—they tell stories of place and memory. One particularly stirring image, taken just after sunrise in Deir Khouna, shows a lone hawk circling above the valley floor, its wings catching the light like a prayer in motion.
A Model for a Greener Future
If approved, the Beirut River Valley National Park would become a cornerstone in Lebanon’s growing network of nature reserves—one that reconnects urban and rural, past and future. It would also serve as a test case for how Lebanon can balance conservation with human presence in densely populated areas.
For now, André Bechara continues to return to the valley, camera in hand, chasing that elusive mix of shadow and silence. “Every time I come back,” he says, “I see something I didn’t notice before. This place teaches you how to look again.”
In his images, and in the voices of those now rallying to protect this place, the Beirut River Valley is no longer a forgotten gorge behind the capital. It is a beating green artery, a national treasure waiting to be declared.
