Ethio Trekking

Have you ever been somewhere breathtaking? I mean literally. Somewhere that you arrive and your breath is taken by the sight? That happened to me for the first time in the Simien Mountains. The pictures can’t do them justice, but they give you a sense of these mountains that rise up out of northeastern Ethiopia. Really rather indescribable.

We had great luck to find an eclectic group of friends with whom to share our experience (and costs) in the Simiens. Exceedingly optimistic Michael, from Oklahoma who fled to the Bay Area before fleeing even farther to the UK where he now works as a freelance landscape architect cum recycler and lives in a trailer (more elegantly called “a caravan” out there) in the city of Bath. Tess, the witty, generous, chain-smoking, social-worker from London. And Peter, the Swedish accountant traveling around the world for two years without taking a single flight. And of course our charming guide, Mulat, who was filled with questions about life in our own countries, and filled with facts about the practical uses for every local plant. Mulat: “We grind and boil the petals of this flower to create a paste that can be used to coat your fingers to prevent infection while picking berries from the thorny bushes that grow at lower elevations. How do you use it in America?” Reply: “Umm…it’s very pretty.”

Together, we stumbled through the mountains, laughed at huge troops of baboons slipping and sliding their way along the river valleys, wandered among brightly lit fields of the high altitude lobelia plants, camped with the masses, prepared lentils and rice three nights in a row, and stood breathless in the face of massive manifestations of nature’s chaos. We stood on the edge of nowhere, just inches from the heavens, and looked down on villages that had been there forever. Perched on the top of plateaus high above civilization, perfectly circular huts were clustered in tight compounds, and surrounded by fields that flowed across the plateaus in orderly yet spontaneous waves.

As intriguing as the mountains, were the children. They followed us along the way, crouched in the dry grass and watched, watched, watched; tended their cows and jumped rope to stay happy; collected dung from the hilltops in their skirts to carry home for fuel; sold us eggs and firewood to get some extra cash; and generally defied the desolate surroundings with their humor and curiosity.

The Bale Mountains was a different ballgame. Southern Ethiopia. Less dramatic but no less beautiful. We were the only faranji (aka: white folks) in sight for the five days. And it was cold. Really cold. We had to brush thick frost off our tent in the morning, and break through the ice in the streams to collect water. No baboons, but plenty of endangered brick red Simien wolves. Same lentils and rice (which seems to be the only camping food we can think of). Same lobelias too; we have come to love them. And our guide, Idris. Well, he is no Mulat, but was a devoted guide nonetheless, especially as he stoked fires from 4 p.m. ‘til bedtime to keep us a few degrees above frozen.

In case you couldn’t gather from our collection of Ethiopia entries -- the place is amazing. Each of the countries we visit is so much more than its stereotype, but this is particularly true in Ethiopia. Known for famine through the decades (and about twelve million people still rely on food aid in the typical year) the country is rich and stunning in every other way -rich nature, history, traditional cultures, and a fascinating capital. Who knew? We spent three months in Ethiopia and would return in a heartbeat.

-- Sarah

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