Leaving Axum after more time than I really needed there, I struck up a conversation with four Americans on my flight to Gondar, a town of around a quarter-million that was also a great dynastic capital and now serves as the gateway to the Simien Mountains National Park. Andy, Yodit and Egla, three Ethiopian Americans living in DC, pointed out to Ryan, a guy of half-Taiwanese decent who'd been working in refugee camps near the Somali border, that we both lived in the same state. I said, "Oh yeah? Whereabouts do you live in Tennessee?" He said, “You won’t know it.” I said, “Try me.” When he told me his family lives in Rugby, I smiled. Not only is it near to the hometown of my old boss Denny, and bordering the Big South Fork Recreation Area where I like to camp, but Ryan’s little sister attends college at Tennessee Tech University in Cookeville, where my Grandma worked for decades. It marked the greatest “small world” moment of my trip so far. Ryan continued on to Addis, but Andy, Yodit and Egla were getting off in Gondar, and heading to the same hotel as me. Like my new found pals in Lalibela, they kindly invited me to join them and their guide on a tour around town. I told them I’d be more than happy to help split the cost of a guide, but that I too had a guide meeting me to discuss my sightseeing options in the area. When we arrived at the Goha Hotel, we realized our respective guides were actually one in the same. So while Amanuel Yitayew Altaseb showed us around, I was also able to talk turkey with him about my plans in the Amhara region.
After the power of earlier kingdoms based in Axum and Lalibela waned, the dynasty fathered by Emperor Fasiladas controlled a wealthy and vast territory from Gondar between the mid-1600’s and early 1700’s. He ordered the construction of the first of a series of castles that would eventually become Gondar’s principal attraction, the Royal Enclosure. Another UNESCO World Heritage Site, the Royal Enclosure is a collection of palaces built by Fasiladas and his successors, most of which were poisoined by their heir apparent. The intriguing stories of greed and betrayal were fascinating, as well as the structures, which were far different in style from the complexes of Lalibela and Axum, influenced by European and Indian architecture. Unfortunately, many of the buildings were damaged or destroyed by Allied bombing raids against the occupying Italians in WWII, but the place was still impressive, and definitely a must-see in Gondar. After that, we went to the Bath of Fasiladas, an enormous (now dry) sunken pool overlooked by a small stone building thought to be the Emperor’s country home. Supposedly, it is filled once a year for Timkat (Epiphany) celebrations held on January 19th.
After the tour, it was time for me to make a decision. While Andy, Yodit and Egla were heading to a resort in the “Ethiopian Riviera” town of Bahir Dar, I decided to arrange transportation to the Simien Mountains. The price Amanuel quoted for a private car was way more than I wanted to spend, so he suggested that I take a 5AM bus to Debark, where the Park Headquarters is located.
Taking long-distance buses in Ethiopia might be the most difficult mode of transport known to man. With only three hours of sleep, I was fortunate to have Amanuel escort me to the bus station. When we got there, I lost Amanuel in the crowd, as dozens of young men pounced on me yelling “Debark! Debark!” In no doubt of where I was heading when they saw my faranji face and the sleeping bag my Gondar guide had loaned to me. Barely awake, I was beginning to feel overwhelmed when all of a sudden a police officer came up and started clubbing the crowd in the kneecaps to make them disperse. It was a disturbing thing to witness so early in the morning, but to be honest, I was glad the cop was there.
I spent 42 birr ($2.36) for a three-and-a-half-hour ride on a crowded bus with chickens and children harboring tuberculosis-type coughs hacking phlegm on me. The road was unpaved and rutted, with bumps frequently detaching my derriere from my seat. I was thanking Yesus when I finally arrived in Debark. The park office opened ten minutes after I got there, and it was pretty easy (and WAY cheaper) for me to organize my own crew for four days of hiking and camping then if I'd hired an agent in Gondar. When going into the Simiens, it is required that you hire a “Scout” armed with an AK-47 to protect you not from human but animal threats, as there are hyenas, leopards (pronounced: "Leo-pards" by my guide) and baboons living in the wilderness. Because the Scouts usually don’t speak English, it’s advised that you hire an official English-speaking “Guide” as well. I ended up with Getachew, a former Elementary school teacher, and an all-around nice guy. Although I’d brought a little bit of food from Gondar, I’d been told that the people you hire usually look to you for sustenance on the journey, although technically they are supposed to provide for their own meals. Since I’d already planned on the Simiens being my “splurge” part of the trip, I gladly hired “Betty” as a cook. Because it’s not easy to carry four days’ worth of food and supplies for four people, I also hired a mule and a “Muleman” to lead the pack animal up and down the rocky trails.
Before we set off, Betty insisted on going to the bustling Wednesday market for more food and supplies. It didn’t take long before I began to feel like she was trying to buy eight days’ worth of food for eight people. Like the Muleman with his trusty beast of burden, I had to rein Betty in a little, and eliminated what I deemed unnecessary from our provisions. Setting off at around 11AM, I had no idea how difficult of hike awaited me. As we set off on the trail, an American named Robert tagged along, although he was ill-prepared for the journey ahead, hiring only a scout, and with a tiny bag of snacks. It was nice to have someone to converse with and boost my morale when the trekking got tough, and because I had plenty of food, I was able to provide dinner for Robert as well.
The Simien Mountains are breathtaking, and not only because of the scenery, but also because of the 10000-plus foot elevations and the ankle-rolling terrain. This was no cub-scout day-hike, and I’d underestimated the difficulty of the terrain. In our first day, from the village of Debark to the mountain camp of Sankaber, we covered 35 kilometers (21 miles) up and down, up and down, up and down, at the highest altitudes I’ve ever experienced. Both Robert and I were proud of ourselves for having completed such an arduous trek, and the spaghetti dinner Betty prepared for us that evening might have been the best I’d ever tasted.
While Robert returned to Debark the following morning, my crew and I pressed on 20 more kilometers (12 miles) to even higher elevations at a place called Geech. Unlike my first day, the scenery between Sankaber and Geech was beyond beautiful, and like nothing I’d ever seen before, or will probably see since. To add to the excitement, we came across troops of Gelada (Red-Chest) Baboons that I could’ve sat and watched for hours. Although they look rather imposing with their ferocious fangs and muscular builds, they are actually quite docile, and vegetarians, no less. They certainly seemed more afraid of me than I was of them, but still allowed us to get close while snacking on grass roots they’d dug from the ground. As far as primates go, they coexist peacefully, except in the case of young males threatening the dominance of their fathers. This is why the female babies ride on their mother’s backs, and the male babies cling to their mother’s bellies for added protection. Perhaps the funniest thing is that when a male and female start having what Getachew called “Sexy Time”, the rest of the troop begins crying and wailing. Getachew told me this is because they know that Sexy Time leads to new male competitors, therefore inviting new violence into the family.
Although I should’ve been fatigued, the rush I got from seeing the wildlife and the amazing views motivated me to ask Getachew to take me to Imet Gogo, a promontory a further three miles from camp, that he’d planned on taking me to the next morning. At 3926 Meters (12,880 feet) the views from Imet Gogo (and a nearby viewpoint known as Saha) were absolutely amazing. There were many times on the trail when I’d wondered why I’d put myself through such torture and didn’t do as my friends in Gondar did and head for a resort in Bahir Dar. But, after seeing Imet Gogo, the hard work became worth it.
Nighttime in Geech was bitterly cold. The temperatures dropped to near freezing, and to my dismay, the Muleman left my tent behind at the previous camp. This meant that I had to pay 80 birr to sleep in a tiny hut owned by a local. Although I was none too pleased by this, it was probably for the best, as it kept me well shielded from the wind and torrential rains that came later that evening. After dinner, I sat with Getachew and Mequanint, the proprietor of my “lodge” and enjoyed some injera while they listened to The Superficials on my iPod. When I retired to my cot, I was startled to feel two furry creatures holed up in my sleeping bag. The two kittens I discovered were so cute that I didn’t have the heart to kick them out of my bed, so they cuddled up to me for warmth as I tried to get the best sleep that I could.
The next morning, I asked my crew to push on an extra 20 kilometers (12 miles) than we’d planned and bypass the Sankaber camp to that we could stay closer to Debark, in order to catch an earlier bus back to Gondar. It took all day to make it to Buyit Ras, where I set up my tent around yet another congress of roving baboons. At this point, my ankles and knees were visibly swollen, but Getachew still had enough energy that he wanted to climb to a summit high above my campsite to visit his friends at the swanky Simien Park Lodge, a four-star $200/night hotel where he could participate in a “Handball” (Volleyball) match. I reluctantly agreed to make the slow climb to the hotel, and while Getachew joined in the serving, setting and spiking with his pals, I had a seat at the “Highest Bar in Africa”(10,700 ft.) for a beer I could just not resist.
After going out to watch the volleyball match, I was surprised to find my table occupied by five faranjis upon my return. They said, “We saw you hiking today from the road on our jeep tour!” and invited me to join them for more drinks. They introduced themselves as “Ambassadors”, and I responded with, “Nice to meet you, I’m the King of England.” After seeing the nonplussed look on their faces, I gathered that they were indeed official foreign diplomats…from Brazil, Portugal, Belgium, Serbia, Germany and Lithuania. I’d always pictured that if I ever met ambassadors on an official state visit, my hair wouldn’t be disheveled and I wouldn’t stink of campfire and body odor. Yet, in spite of this, the conversation was very pleasant. They were all very curious as to why I’d decided to visit Ethiopia and the Simien Mountains in particular. They requested my personal comparisons between Ethiopia and other nations I’d visited on my trip so far. They asked me which room I was staying in, and I showed them my lone tent at the bottom of the mountain. Hearing this, they all but ordered the hotel manager to prepare a hot bath for me. I politely declined however, suggesting that while it’d be nice, bathing and getting back into my dirty clothes only to sleep on the ground would be pointless. Antonio, the Portuguese Ambassador, gave me his phone number and told me to call him when I got back to Addis.
My last night in the tent wasn’t too bad, but after four days of sleeping in wilderness, digging my own latrines and almost 50 miles of the toughest hiking I’ve known, I was eager to get back to civilization. Luckily, I caught a minibus back to Gondar that took me twice as long as the uncomfortable bus that brought me to Debark. Happy to have a hot shower, I couldn’t believe the amount of dirt I’d left behind in the tub. There was so much sediment that it looked like someone had been cremated. I made sure to take a picture.
My remaining day in Gondar was spent watching a wedding at my hotel, then going into town to secure a bus ticket back to Addis Ababa. While I was in town, I made friends with a young man named Dawit (David) and we went out for some fresh, high-quality tej. In fact, it was the best tej I’d had in Ethiopia, and because we were having so much fun, it was hard not to overdo it. Still, I knew when to say when at a reasonable hour, and Dawit took me back on his motorcycle to my hotel free of charge. With little sleep and a little hungover, I successfully boarded my bus at 4:30AM the next day. I didn’t get off of the bus until 8PM.
Now, I’m happy to be back in Addis for the next few days and overjoyed that I’ll never have to ride on an Ethiopian bus again. Until I hop on my flight to Istanbul, I’m going to enjoy the food, music and the weather here in the capital, try to visit the family of an old work friend of mine, and possibly meet up with the Portuguese Ambassador.
