Trek 8th to 12th October 2014
This account is both encouragement and caveat for those
wishing to visit this remote and beautiful area. It is still a place which few people
visit. 18,000 visited in 2013. If that sounds a lot consider that the only
comparable area National Park in Britain in terms of size – the Norfolk Broads,
experience exactly 400 times as many visitors per year. As a result, the habitat and the wildlife of
the Simiens is almost undisturbed, and some remarkable animals and birds can be
seen. There are pressures on the Simien
Mountain national park, of course, such as encroachment of farmers, but it
remains a fabulous place, with a landscape of unusual beauty, suggestive of an
‘other-worldly’ character, such that one finds oneself imagining an episode of
Doctor Who or Planet of the Apes being filmed here, so unusual is the scenery. Thrown up by ancient volcanic eruptions, the
mountains are green to the top (only about 13 degrees of latitude north of the
equator) and steep sided, the cliffs often plunging a thousand metres from the
escarpment. Please admire the photos, but if you like walking and you are considering the Simien Mountains, read on.
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| Xerxes, Philippa, Lindsay, Andrew |
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| Meskel flowers, rain approaching |
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| Walking through the uplands and giant lobelias |
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| Tawny eagle and thick-billed raven |
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| Gelada baboon. Despite their name they are closer to monkeys than baboons |
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| Walia ibex, above Chennek |
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| Looking down one of the canyons from about 3900m |
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| Child shepherds, above Chennek |
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| Distant lowland village |
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| Sunset from Kheda Dit |
We arrive in Debark, a small town near the park, as most
trekkers do, from Gondar, itself quite an unusual town. The Ethiopian capital was here during the
seventeenth century, and each king built himself a slightly different
castle. The centre of rule lingered on
here until the nineteenth century before shifting to Addis. There are four of us, keen walkers, but not
in the first flush of youth: Andrew (66), Lindsay (61), Xerxes (64), Philippa
(59).
This is how, taken from my diary, the experience unfolded:
Wednesday. The road from Gondar to Debark is about 100Km in a north-northeast
direction and is good quality tarmac.
Our guide from the tour company Ethio Guzo is the somewhat Rasta looking
Wirku (it means Gold in Amharic). Poor
Gold started as a street urchin and shoe-shine boy in Debark; was assisted by a
Dutch tour guide to get some schooling and is now in a fairly responsible position. Unfortunately he needs a little advice on how
best to get on and get ahead, but more of that later. From Gondar we have taken a chef (Menber) and
his equipment. There is a rotation
booking system for guides to the Simien Mountains National Park, but Melaku
(Angel) our guide is a freelance who was obviously booked by Ethio Guzo. He sorts out the paperwork for our permits –
this is really fairly quick and easy (500 Birr per head for Europeans and it
looks like 200 for locals) – and we also pick up an aged scout called Mohammed
who is hefting an antique looking bolt action rifle. We turn off the tarmac and onto the dirt road
through what seems to be the main street of Debark; dirt, dust and dung, and
head off to the park gate, some 15Km up the track. Paperwork is checked and we’re in. The dirt road has stone and gravel surfacings
for the most part, but the quality is not good, and frequent rains produce
erosion and channels in the surface.
Debark itself is high, 2850m, and our first camp site (Sankaber) is at
around 3260m. After about an hour on the
road from Debark, Melaku, Mohammed, and we four trekkers get down and start
walking. Our route is more or less
parallel to the track, but there are detours to the edge of the mountain ridge
with great views. The vegetation is largely
giant tree heather, reminiscent of the cloud forest on La Gomera in the
Canaries. Spanish Moss drips from it. There are many plants we can see in Europe in
evidence, particularly cistus, scabious, and dwarf hebes. There are flowers which look a little like
yellow marguerites, but are the very widespread endemic Meskel flowers, symbol
of the Ethiopian New Year, which takes place in late September. Sightings include thick-billed raven,
lammergeyer, augur buzzard, and a troop of Gelada baboons. After less than three hours, during which we
receive some persistent rain we reach Sankaber camp. My diary, generally brief, says ‘Good
tent. Terrible latrine. No running water.’ Distance approximately 4 miles. Slow because quite breathless at 3200m,
despite Diamox (acetazolamide). At least
no headaches. We have only been in
Ethiopia for four days.
There are only a few ‘approved’ camp sites in the Simien
Mountains. Everybody has to camp in
these places. There are wolves, jackals,
and the occasional leopard, so it is not wise to take a chance on it. One reason for the scouts is therefore
protection. We find out later that they
have a rota for checking the camp through the night. The approved sites have nothing particular to
recommend them. The latrines are
appalling. Even on army manoeuvres, when
digging a latrine we were always instructed to leave the excavated soil to
cover the excrement. Here the soil has
been taken away. Enough said. There are usually one or two little round
corrugated iron huts, where the cooks can prepare and cook food undercover. All equipment, food, and water has to be
brought in. I note that the stoves are
propane rather than butane (more appropriate for low temperatures).
Thursday. Not a very comfortable night, and it rained heavily. Breakfast of pancake and honey and leave
about 0810. Menber did a good job of
creating a one cooking pot meal the previous evening, but I can’t remember what
it was. He makes some soup every evening
and then adds something else.
We wind around the ridges with great views, coming down to a
viewpoint above the spectacular Jinbar Falls, where the river plunges 500m over
the edge of the plateau. From here it is
steeply up the hillside, past stupendous fall-away views of steep grass slopes
covered in places by kniphophia (red hot poker) flowers, and troops of baboons
scratching at the grasslands for grubs.
Beyond the grass slopes the walls of the mountains fall away on their
northern side for a thousand metres to the undulating plains below. In the canyon below the Jinbar falls there
are circling griffon vultures, lammergeyer, and swifts. Further on we see alpine chat, black-headed
siskin, yellow bishop, grey-necked sparrow and wattled ibis. There is a very long ascent, perhaps 500 to
600m past the village of Geech with its few circular mud and wood and stone
huts to the plateau of Geech camp, at 3620m.
Total distance walked about 8 miles, 470m of down and 870m up. Because of the heavy rains the water in the
Jinbar river is fast and deep and we elect to cross by mule, paying 50 Birr
each to do so (32 Birr = £1). Before
descending to the river we come across a famous local musician playing his
one-stringed violin. At least the guide
tells us he is famous.
At the camp there is great excitement because there is a
large party from Exodus present and two of the scouts have killed a sheep for
their supper. We don’t get any mutton to
eat ourselves, but in view of a subsequent experience at the hotel in the
Gheralta (Gheralta Lodge) I realise that we didn’t miss much. Quite how they can make the meat tougher than
boot leather is a conundrum...
The offal and blood bring lammergeyer and tawny eagle to the
party, together with dozens of ravens (collective noun an ‘unkindness’ of
ravens). There is a lovely sunset.
I suspect I must have felt rather better today, for at least
I made a note of Menber’s menu for tonight.
It was tomato soup followed by a hash of pasta, vegetables, potato and
fried aubergine. After dark there are
several hours of distant thunderstorms, lightning, and then later in the night,
more rain.
At about 5 am there begins a general murmuring of scouts and
cookboys around the camp. From 6 a
cockerel begins, but he is silent after a few minutes (is he saving energy or
is he headed for a cooking pot?). The
now familiar barking of ravens begins at daylight. By 7 am there is a little sunshine on the
tent and it seems propitious to get up.
Geech is a much larger area than Sankaber. It’s an altiplano really. Hobbled mules graze. There are cows and sheep from the
village. And there are a lot of
tents. We’ve been joined by a large
German group.
Today, Friday, is a more leisurely excursion because we are scheduled
to spend another night at Geech. We walk
gently uphill towards the NE along the spine of the Simiens to a lofty peak at
Imet Gogo, at about 3900m. In view of
the mist Melaku does not attempt the final scramble up the boulders to the end
of the peak, about 30m higher. The view
is nonetheless spectacular. We then walk
along the edge of the abyss back to the west passing the gorge of Sinha. Unfortunately by the time we reach the gorge
we are being pelted by rain and hail.
Sightings of Thekla’s lark, wattle ibis, scraper thrush, lammergeyer,
augur buzzard. Back at camp the bushes
around are populated by the endemic black-headed Ethiopian siskin. The landscape has taken on that other
planetary feel, as we walk through giant lobelias back to camp. Lunch is Ethiopian – injera (the ghastly
pancake bread), wot, shiro, potatoes in tomato and chilli sauce. 5.9 miles, ascent to 3903m.
In the afternoon we walk down to the local village which we
passed on the previous day. The idea is
to visit a villager who will perform the ritual coffee preparation ceremony for
us. Wirku doesn’t seem to be too certain
which of the villagers will do this and it’s the third hut that we come to that
contains the lady of the manor (so to speak) who will take the time to do
it. In view of what we give her in
Ethiopian Birr (200 Birr is about 10 US dollars or £6.50, a huge amount of
money in Ethiopia) I’m surprised that the villagers aren’t all clamouring
outside their huts for us to go in. One
of our party is bird phobic, so we have to chase the chickens out before we
start. It is daytime so the other
residents of the hut (cows, donkey, goats) are already outside. There is a cat too which is presumably useful
because the area must be rat infested.
In the gloom, lit only by a wood fire, the lady who thinks that she must
be about 25 years old, but is only guessing because she only has three children
as yet, takes a shallow iron dish and places it on the trivet over the
fire. Then she washes the coffee
beans. Then they are roasted on the
dish. Using a wooden pestle and mortar
she grinds the coffee and puts a kettle onto the fire. The ground coffee is put directly into the
kettle once the water is boiling. Bear
in mind that we are at 3500m so the water temperature is about 88°C. She washes out some tiny cups, wiping them
with a cloth (oh dear) and pours in the coffee.
Finally she pushes a few embers from the fire forward into the dust and
puts a few crystals of frankincense on it.
Ethiopian coffee is muddy and not harsh with a gentle roast
flavour. It seems to taste better as
black coffee...
In the evening, Melaku, a Dutch trekker from another group,
and I walk up to Kheda Dit – a walk of about 30 minutes. Kheda Dit sits on the northern flank of the
Simiens, and serried rows of mountains and hills can be seen as far as the eye
can take one to the west. The sunset is
worth the visit, the rows of hills assuming differing shades of grey, blue, or
pink as the day draws to a close. Well
before sunset there is another phenomenon which is worth seeing (it can also be
seen from our next camp, Chennek). This
is the nightly procession of Gelada baboons to the cliff edge, from which they
jump, climb, and swing in a manner which would put an Olympic gymnast to shame,
down the cliff faces and steep grassy banks and into caves set into the sheer
rock of the Simien wall. In here they
must be free from even the most ambitious of predators.
Saturday. The next day we make a prompt start at 0810hrs. It has been an extremely cold night. The stars with the Milky Way evident were
magnificent, but the morning is icy and we are all up early to don more clothes
and get warm. Although the cooks and
scouts try to keep a fire going the thin air and poor quality of the wood makes
it difficult. The coffee lady could
teach them a thing or two. The night is
also interrupted; I think I speak for all of us, by visits outside the tent to
pass urine. This is a known side effect
of the acetazolamide, which acts as a diuretic.
Another bizarre effect which most people seem to get is the buzzing
paraesthesia (medical word meaning tingling feeling) due to changes in nerve
function. I can liken this most closely
to the feeling that you might get if you use a power tool such as a garden
strimmer for too long. On the plus side,
although a little puffed when walking uphill, none of us has had high altitude
headache, which I have definitely had at similar altitudes when not taking
acetazolamide.
A gentle ascent back towards Imet Gogo, then a fork right
towards the southeast and a long trek down along the edge of the
escarpment. At the bottom, two of our
party who found the ascent very tough two days beforehand get onto the
pre-arranged mules for the 470m climb to our lunch spot, at something over
4000m. I walk slowly up the muddy area
with tree heather overhanging until about 150m higher, the terrain becomes more
open and the giant lobelias take over.
This is genuine Planet of the Apes landscape. It would be wrong to call it lunar, because
there is vegetation. One can imagine a
Star Trek astronaut saying ‘It’s our planet all right, Captain, but not as we
know it.’
It’s now mostly down and we reach the road about 200m below
Chennek camp. 8.35 miles, 5 hours of
walking. Current elevation 3630m; 700m
of ascent and descent. Sightings of
lammergeyer, swift, raven, white-billed starling, brown rumped seed eater,
pigeon, dusky turtle dove, and weavers.
A klipspringer bounded away in the distance near Imet Gogo, but as yet
we haven’t seen the famed Walia ibex.
The last thirty minutes or so of descent are in heavy rain
and we feel a bit miserable and gloomy when we arrive in Chennek, as per the
usual dismal facilities (hole in the ground, no running water) but we have some
tea, coffee, popcorn, and biscuit in the cook’s shack. After a while the rain stops and there is
even some sunshine. The cook is keen to
get us fed, so at 630pm we eat soup, Russian salad, pasta, egg and mushroom. By 8 o’clock there is nothing else for it but
to turn in. As we settle into bed Wirku
informs us that there is no accommodation for Melaku, and his own tent is cold
and wet inside, so he would like to borrow our blankets. We yield them: it’s not as cold as the
previous night.
Sunday. The next day starts badly.
Wirku announces that he didn’t sleep well and has had a bad headache for
several nights. It turns out that
although he has made day trips to the Simiens he has not done one of these
treks before. His presence hasn’t really
assisted us. He has a tendency to
buttonhole our guide Melaku, walking on ahead and chatting in Amharic, so that
we have to push hard to catch up. He is
22 years old, exactly one third of my own age, and although he has had a tough
life he needs to get a bit of maturity and judgement into him. It doesn’t help that he has allowed us to pay
his way in restaurants and bars (it’s not a huge expense but it’s not Ethio
Guzo’s policy) and occasionally makes far too obvious hints such as ‘I don’t
have a watch’, or ‘Will you be needing those poles when you’ve finished your
trekking?’ I genuinely feel sorry for
him, but it’s probably the company who are to blame in that he needs to learn
how to do his job by example and tutelage rather than on his own. Wirku implies, as indeed he did the night
before, that we don’t need to do our final early morning start and trek to the
summit of Buwa Hit; that he has booked the transport for 10am, and we should
all head back to Gondar. Our itinerary
clearly says that those of us who would like to should make an early start and
trek to the summit of the mountain, about 800 to 900m of ascent, for great
views of the Simiens, possible sightings of Walia ibex, and a final
achievement. Melaku has obviously been
briefed to lead this, ignores Wirku, and he, Philippa and I set off for the
climb. Lindsay and Xerxes decide on a
leisurely morning in camp with some exploration, and animal and bird watching.
Essentially our route is straight up. Mostly it follows the dirt road towards a high mountain pass, cutting off some of the hairpin bends, and finally leaving
the track for the final push. We could
have left at 7 but the cook is not keen to be out in the cold any earlier than
6.30, so we are ready to depart at 7.30.
As we prepare to leave, we notice two little girls sitting by the edge
of our camp. They look about 8 and 6,
but turn out to be about 3 years older.
The younger one has an ulcer on her foot. This must be something unusual even for the
local people because apparently they don’t usually come for help. On the dorsum of the little girl’s foot is a
punched out ulcer, about 4 by 6cm, clean down to the muscle. It looks like a third degree burn, but is
not. It started as a small lesion and
then spread. There is infected slough on
the site, so we clean it, treat it with fucidin ointment, and put a clean dressing
on it. My best guess is a Buruli ulcer,
a disease caused by a bacterium similar to TB.
If so the fucidin will not help.
There is a free government clinic a day or so away where they can go,
and this is what we ask the guide to tell them...
The hike up to Buwa Hit (which we christen Bugger Dit) takes about two and a half
hours. At the top, another two little
girls are selling some trinkets and Pepsi Cola.
We buy something. The cloud comes
in and we miss the view of the highest Ethiopian peak, but we are only about
100m lower, at 4400m. On the way down we
have all the time in the world to chat, but no breath at all on the way
up. Back on the track, with only about
30 minutes to go to camp, the trouble starts.
A 4x4 roars up the road and stops.
It’s Wirku. ‘You guys had
enough? Want a ride?’ Melaku seems unimpressed and suggests we keep
on walking at least until he turns round, no easy feat on this road. Behind us we hear the noise of a screaming
clutch and wheels scrabbling for purchase.
Eventually it’s clear that Wirku either can’t start the car or turn it
round. Melaku sensibly sends Mohammed
running on down to camp to alert the others.
Pretty soon the cook and the driver appear. They are furious. Apparently Wirku (you will remember that his
name means Gold; Xerxes has long since christened him G.B.) was itching to get
home. The driver was an hour later than
expected. There should be two cars and
not one. As soon as the driver got out,
Wirku got in without asking and roared up the track to cut short our walk and
pick us up. Now he’s stuck, the car is
possibly damaged – hopefully only superficially – and God knows what he’s done
to the clutch.
In the meantime Melaku
detours from the road and we are rewarded with the sight of one of the world’s
rarest animals. Some 200m away, a
magnificent male Walia ibex is grazing unconcernedly with his harem of 7
ladies. As we walk on down, they are so
focused on the grass that we can get much closer still and movie footage as
they too meander gradually downhill, eventually crossing the ridge and
disappearing. Back in camp the
atmosphere is not good. Two cars were
ordered to arrive at 10. Only one
arrived, and that well after 11am. Wirku
was furious. Hence his ‘TDA’ (taking and
driving away). Other cars arrive but can’t
help. Lindsay tips a driver 100 Birr to
head up the road to see if he can help.
Eventually, some 30 minutes after we get back, two cars come down. Wirku seems unrepentant, but he’s smashed the
left rear bumper and bashed the bull bars.
A furious discussion ensues. The
driver says the cook will have to stay behind.
The cook refuses. A compromise is
reached whereby the poor cook’s boy stays, nine of us get into the Landcruiser,
the kitchen and camping gear is tied to the roof, and others arrange themselves
around our bags. Needless to say, as the
final loading takes place, rain begins.
It turns to hail. Off we go. The tyres have a little bit of tread left,
but would clearly be illegal in the UK.
We grind to a halt three times, the vehicle unable to climb the wet
rocks and gravel. Most of us get out and
walk up the hills. Some are so squashed
up in the back that it would take ten minutes to extricate them so they stay,
but fortunately the vehicle just makes it.
We’re wet, pelted with hailstones, and some of the mud inevitably covers
our clothes as we slog up the track.
After three steep sections the gradient levels somewhat, the calibre of
the gravel is smaller and gives more traction, and we’re back in the vehicle
for the long grind to the park gate, which we christen ‘Depark’ and now only
15Km to ‘Debark’. At the park office it’s
sad to say goodbye to Melaku, a calm and knowledgeable guide, and to Mohammed,
who with his trusty gun was always at the rear to help the stragglers. Having sat four in the back Lindsay makes it
clear that Wirku can climb into the luggage compartment with Menber. Eventually we are back at Fasil Lodge in
Gondar at 6.15pm, darkness falling fast.
Fasil Lodge, run by a lovely family, seemed rather ‘low rent’ when we
first checked in before our Simien experience.
Now it seems like paradise.
I wasn’t well enough to join the others at the Four Sisters
restaurant last time we were in Gondar, but now off we go for some St George’s
and Dashen beers and a good buffet. The
four sisters who run it are an interesting crew. The two most obvious and pretty ones are
front of house. One trips back and forth between the restaurant and the kitchen. The fattest one, all
smiles and bonhomie, works the cash till.
‘It ain’t over until the Fat Lady rings,’ someone observes. A touch of euphoria there I fancy.
They say that ‘Adventure is hardship recollected in
tranquillity,’ and this applies to our Simien Mountains trek. A beautiful and fragile environment. The government is paying villagers to
relocate to return some of the land to the wilderness that it once was, which
would give greater habitat areas to the endangered species within it. But controlling it in a better way would
allow the creation of some higher quality lodges within it, the digging and
maintenance of proper septic tanks, and a limited service industry for those
who want to trek there. The Ethiopian
Government could achieve what it wants for the park and yet sustain an
eco-friendly tourist industry.
As an addendum, I would mention that on return to Fasil
Lodge that evening, the receptionist is looking for me and acting on
instructions calls Ethio Guzo in Addis.
Steve Olsen, the Canadian CEO of the company is on the line. He has obviously heard something of what
transpired at Chennek. He’s unimpressed
by the behaviour of Wirku, and offers us another guide for the next week of our
trip. Despite some misgivings, it seems
unwise to persist with G.B. Xerxes is
delighted. I think we are all relieved,
and so within a day or so we meet up with Fekadu in Lalibela, who sees us
through the rest of the journey. So
Ethio Guzo sorted it, and overall we had a great Ethiopia experience. This diary is only concerned with the trekking. We went at what should have
been the start of the dry season, but the Simien Mountains are unpredictable,
and therein lies some of their beauty and charm. Try them.
