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Ethiopia Part V: Journey to the Center of the Earth – The Danakil Depression

12 Monday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

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Tags

Desert, Geology, Tours, Volcano

Camel train in the Danakil

Our four day/three-night trip to one of the most inhospitable areas of the globe was very weird.   And not necessarily for the reasons that I was expecting.

I was expecting it to be really hot and dusty.  I was expecting to see weird rock formations, bubbling pools of sulphuric acid and geysers.  I was expecting to sleep out rough under the stars and smell really bad by the end of the trip.  I was expecting long hours of driving in the car observing tiny villages of the Afar people who somehow manage to live a nomadic existence drifting from place to place in this arid, harsh, landscape.

Cool Rock formations in the Danakil

But those weren’t really the weirder aspects of the trip for me.

The weirdest part of the trip was the large group that we were traveling in – and the group dynamics that arose as a result.  It impacted my impression of almost every activity we participated in – and made a jaunt into the rock pools to see multi-colored geological phenomenon feel more like a trip to the mall in Shanghai than an expedition to one of the lowest points on the planet.

Our group consisted of about 40 persons, of which about 30 were a large group of Chinese tourists, who seemed to all know one another, though I never actually ascertained for sure whether or not this was true.

Quatchi poses on the salt flats

Mike walks through the salt lakes

I would like to think of myself as a very open and unbiased person.  I certainly do not consider myself to be racist.  I do not wish to offend any of my readers by stating this – so I will reserve my observations to be solely about the individual group of people that I spent this time in the Ethiopian desert with.  But I came to truly dislike the behaviors of these individuals, and it proved difficult by the end to separate my feelings about the Danakil and the sites we were witnessing with my feelings at how this group would act in the space.

First, other than the lovely two individuals from Shanghai that Mike and I shared our 4X4 with – the group of Chinese pretty much kept to themselves and didn’t engage in conversation with any of us “outsiders”.  They were obsessed with taking selfies and spent hours and hours getting the perfect photos of themselves at each and every site of interest.  Boyfriends would patiently acquiesce to their woman’s request for hundreds of pictures at different angles, with and without sunglasses, with and without certain expressions, standing facing to the right or to the left, with and without a flash, and any and all possible variations in between.

Since we had armed security with us (there is a real threat of Eritrean terrorism as the Danakil is very close to the border that is still disputed, and tourists have been targets in the past) – some of the Chinese would “borrow” their guns and spend hours taking photos holding the guns in a mind numbing array of different poses and set ups.

Chillin’ on the roof of our 4×4 with Mike

I found it both entertaining and nauseating to watch.

Then came the photo editing and the obligatory “whitening” of pictures by the women who are obsessed with being as pale as humanly possible – to the point where some of the girls looked like ghosts – and would not consider spending any time out in this inhospitable environment without perfect makeup which including lots of whitening foundation and powder.  To avoid the horrific possibility of sun ever touching their skin – they would all be dressed in multiple layers including down vests – even when the temperature hovered around 40 degrees centigrade.

Many of their group smoked and they never failed to drop their cigarette butts wherever it suited them.  On our hike to the summit of the Erta Ale volcano – which happened in the dark, late evening in the eeriest and most atmospheric of times – the Chinese group were selfish enough to be BLASTING music from their phones as loud as possible spoiling any of the 40 or so of us hiking from the possibility of enjoying a quiet moment of peace while hiking the mountain.

Sunset at the Salt Lakes

Aside from the fascinating human observation opportunities this provided – the geography of the region we were visiting was quite vivid – I still think it paled slightly in comparison to Yellowstone, Death Valley, and the Bolivian Salar de Uyuni,  though it was interestingly a cool combination of all 3.

I enjoyed the chance to walk through the salt laden lakes and see my feet crunching on the beautiful crystallized salt as the sun was setting on our first evening.  That kind of vast emptiness has a haunting quality unique unto itself.  Seeing our 8 4×4’s driving side by side on this highway-less terrain was crazy and quite unnerving whenever our driver pointed out that he wasn’t quite sure of the direction we were supposed to be heading in (with an endless horizon, it is super easy to get turned around and navigation skills are crucial.)

Folks in our group pose for pics

Our car was the lucky one to get stuck in the salt mud and had to get help as our spinning tires were just sinking us ever further into the mire.  Eventually, the large group of arguing Ethiopian guides and drivers figured out how to secure a wench to the back of our car and pulled it free – leaving it to us to scream at the Chinese group taking photos that they might wanna take 30 or so steps back to avoid getting their heads knocked clean off if anything were to go wrong and the cable snapped during the dangerous operation.

My vision of sleeping in a desert wilderness sans tent with just the stars for light was not to be.  The camp in Hamedela was slapped right next to a Potash factory that had massive artificial spotlights that kept the entire camp illuminated throughout the night, much to my disappointment.  The guides set out our hammock-like “cots” in rows, somehow wrongly believing that we must all want to sleep in tight proximity with one another rather than to spread out and experience the wilderness.

Getting stuck

Food was served en masse and it was a free for all and you had to take what you could or end up hungry – especially since there were no chances to obtain snacks and we’d sometimes go six or seven hours between meals.

Our guides left much to be desired also and I found myself completely switched off most of the time they were talking anyways.  The first one barely spoke English, though I really loved his reference to how the following day we would be driving 15 minutes between one site and the next “water bubbly.”   Everything we stopped to see we did as a large group which gave one the feeling of being part of a herd of cattle.  During our time at the geysers, rock pools, and multi-colored acidic rock – we were often led walking directly over the highly toxic and dangerous ground and I got yelled at for taking a safer more indirect route – by the guards with the guns!  I couldn’t believe that they would let tourists trample all over this fragile and geologically thin/exposed/volcanic and potentially explosive/corrosive ground without regard to its preservation or to our safety.

It was infuriating, even though the natural wonders themselves were incredible.

Our camp beds

In the middle of Day two, we visited a working salt mine that was complete with hundreds of workers hacking away at the ground to produce rectangular shapes of rock salt that they would then affix to hundreds of camels who would carry it over hundreds of miles to and from market.  It really was quite a sight to see and it looked like incredibly arduous work done over long stretches of time in the blaring sun and heat.

Ironically, everywhere we went, we would see salt in its many forms, but there was never salt served with our meals.  I’d point this out – but I think as I mentioned before – irony and sarcasm is somewhat lost on Africans.

Remains of a not so lucky donkey that drank salt water

We had a very long drive to our mid-way point on day two – which was going to take us back on the road to Mekele to a town that was on the way to our destination for day three – the Erta Ale Volcano where we might hopefully see molten red lava at night while we camped on its summit.

Though our itinerary stated we’d be camping for 3 nights – we apparently were going to be staying on mattresses in three rooms in a private house that had been arranged for us in the small town of Abala.  When our car arrived, our guide explained that there really wasn’t room for us in the assigned rooms and that we could either sleep on the floor of our hosts’ living room – or we could drive back to Mekele for the night and they would cover the cost of a hotel room.  It was altogether very confusing – it appeared that they’d overbooked the place by several individuals, and the idea of sharing one bathroom and one shower with 39 individuals was not in the least appealing.

Multi colored pools on day 2

Colorful volcanic rock

Mini Geyser

Mike suggested that perhaps they might cover the cost of a room in a local hotel in town – and we were happy when they agreed to this suggestion.  Strangely, our two car companions opted to stay with the group while Mike and I got our own room about half a kilometer up the road with our own private shower.  We high-fived; feeling that we had definitely scored.

It rained that night for the second time during our whole trip and Mike and I made our way back to our room after a rather yummy fasting meal with the soft patter of raindrops and the exhortations of kids begging for candy all the way to our room where we thankfully fell asleep, grateful for our luxurious privacy.

Highway to nowhere

One of the other main issues on this trip that spoiled my enjoyment of it was the lack of hygiene and basic sanitation.  On our first and last camps – despite the fact that hundreds of tourists stay here every single week during the visiting season – there were no pit toilets or facilities of any kind.  Not being given any sort of instruction – folks would just take a shit anywhere they took a fancy, very often just strewing their toilet paper along with it.  It was absolutely disgusting.  Peeing in the bush is one thing – but having human excrement building up over years and years right next to where Afar villages were trying to live life and raise their herds of animals is unacceptably gross.   Not only that, but no water was provided for us to wash our hands prior to mealtimes.  Luckily, we had a very kind and thoughtful driver who would bring us a gerry can and soap for our car when Mike and I would insist on washing our hands.

On the third day we drove over seven long hours to reach the volcano.  Much of this was over very rocky and non-paved terrain that was as good an African massage as any we’d experienced on this trip.  We spent long hours waiting for everything that day – to leave Abala in the am, to get lunch, to leave on the climb for the summit.  Then, as we were climbing to the summit of Erta Ale along with many many other groups of a similar size to ours, all of a sudden they decided to march us at such a pace that it was impossible to pee or rest along the way.  It took all of four hours to get to the summit and we were only given 3-5 minutes breaks ever hour and a half.  It was crazy to be herded at that kind of pace when we had been waiting and waiting all day long.  I didn’t understand the reason for it – but I can only assume that ETT is given a certain “window” in which to climb and have a time for “viewing” of the lava before they have to clear out and make room for other groups.

Camels at the salt digging site

With this herd mentality and the blaring of music along the way, I can’t say I enjoyed this mountain experience since it was anything but.  In addition, there was trash all along the way – thousands of discarded plastic bottles along with toilet paper and cigarette butts lining the path all the way to the summit.  Which, unfortunately, was obscured with high winds and steam – so you could see a really eerie red glow – but not any lava.

We were finally getting into our sleeping bags around midnight, and were expected to get up to have another viewing opportunity at 4:30am.  Clearly this segment of the trip was badly organized as I need more sleep than that to function properly – not to mention it was 11 kms each way to ascend and descend.  I skipped the ass-raping crack of dawn call and tried to get another hour of sleep before we were forced to march down the mountain single file following our brave gun-toting military scouts.

Bleh.

Red glow from Erta Ale

I could easily have skipped this part of the trip.  Seeing the lava would have been just amazing – but I felt like I was hiking a large garbage dump on a poorly organized multi-school trip where you had an uncomfortable sleepless night and had to take a shit where thousands had before you, out in the open for all to see in a massive area covered in human excrement for the past 17 years.

By the time we arrived back in Mekele, I was falling down from exhaustion and beyond ready for a shower, a decent meal, and clean sheets.  I was also waiting to hear from a friend in Accra who was potentially going to be available for me to hang out with for my last week in Africa.  After the Danakil, I really had seen all I wanted to see in Ethiopia and I was so done with the people here and their attitudes (as I described in my first article about this country).  Unfortunately, my friend was not going to be able to have me visit – so Mike joined me as I drank 3 Gin and Tonics before we ordered a rather delicious pizza and righteously passed out.

The next day was going to be a day of rest, no doubt about it!

Ethiopia Part II: No Pain, No Gain in the Simiens

02 Friday Mar 2018

Posted by Anita in Africa, Ethiopia

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Adventure Sports, Climbing, Desert, Hikes, Mountains, Trekking

The beautiful Simien Mountains

Our flight and arrival in Addis went without a hitch and the visa process was pretty straightforward also.  We chose to stay the night at Lobelia Hotel as it was close to the airport and we’d have to leave at an ungodly hour to catch our domestic flight in the morning to Gonder – where we would begin our Historical Northern Tour of Ethiopia.

After checking in and getting some soup for our tummies, I was ready for an early night when I noticed that the hotel had a sauna and a steam room! I later discovered that this is a trend in moderate to nicer hotels in Ethiopia – and it was one I took advantage of at any given opportunity.  This was my first and it helped with my cough immensely.  In the end, I had that cough for about six weeks on and off…it has finally cleared up, as of about a week ago.  I can’t tell you how relieved I am not to have to take antibiotics and be able to sleep through the night without waking Mike up with a coughing fit.

The next morning began rather badly.  As we arrived at the domestic terminal, Mike put his iPhone in another person’s “security box” as his had already gone through and he’d just that moment realized it was still in his pocket as he needed to pass through the body scanner.  Once through, he waited for it to “reappear” on the other side.

It never did.

I was, meanwhile, trying to check both our bags onto the flight and save time.  When Mike wasn’t showing up I went back to find him distressed and searching for his phone.  I cursed myself for not having been there at that moment, as doubtless someone had grabbed it and it might have been possible to spot them if it was done soon enough.  Security was useless, assuring us that they would check the CCTV cameras etc.  I kept asking “how on earth is that going to help?  You won’t know the identity of the person who you see took the phone!”  Besides, I’m pretty sure that it was a member of the x-ray machine team that took it.  We put a message on his phone to indicate it was lost and to contact my number, but unfortunately, Mike hadn’t connected it to the wifi of the domestic terminal yet – so whomever had taken it, wouldn’t see the message.  Moreover, a stolen iPhone might as well be a stolen brick – without the password, there’s no way to get into it.

What a waste.  It was Mike’s baby too – so I felt super bad for him.

Shopping in Gonder

Our flight was only about 45 minutes and we landed in Gonder, taking a hotel shuttle to the AG – chosen because it had my initials!  Mike then discovered that his camera viewing screen was broken and his day had just gotten worse, poor guy.  The hotel was actually quite nice and we soon passed out since we’d barely slept the night before.

Gonder and the day and a half we spent there turned out to be rather arduous.  Other than being the former capital of the country and full of amazing history such as the palace of Emperor Fasilades who founded the city in 1636 – it is already at an elevation of 2133 m and being quite hilly, was a physical test just to walk around and get errands ran before starting our 4 day trek to the Simien mountains.

We had to find a tour company that we could trust and was leaving in the next day or two (NOT an easy task), buy warm jackets as the temperatures at night would be below freezing, find warm hats/gloves, buy some Acetazolamide (altitude medication), buy hiking boots, buy more malaria pills for me as I was almost out, get SIM cards for our phones, and other odds and ends.  It ended up taking us almost all of our free time to accomplish these tasks, and at almost one hour prior to closing – we finally got in a cab to go visit the Royal Palace – feeling it would be too awful to not visit this UNESCO world heritage site before leaving in the am for Debark.

The Royal Palace was quite impressive, especially the castle that was actually intact.  Since we were so late, we failed to find a guide, and had to satisfy our historical curiosities by reading about each building on Lonely Planet – promising ourselves we would do more earnest research later.  Getting back to our room, we had to pack our overnight bags and combine what we were leaving into my suitcase and try to get an early night.

Fasilada’s Palace, Gonder

The next morning, we were picked up nice and early and informed that we would be getting a private tour as the Korean couple they had paired us with had never actually trekked before and our tour operator was concerned that we would leave them in the dust.  Poor Mike just looked at me and I told him that I was sorry he’d had no one else to talk to for the next 3 nights.

On arrival at park headquarters, however, we came across a lovely Polish girl, Kamila, who was looking to hire a scout and share transportation with someone to the trailhead and back from Chennek.  I told her that I’d be happy to let her share our scout and transport – but she’d have to arrange it with Tedele – our “charming” tour operator.  In the end, she paid him $50 for transport and the use of our scout – and as it turned out, she ended up having the exact same trip that we did, except for the fact that she’d brought her own tent.  We didn’t mind, per se, but she sure lucked out with getting fed at every meal – our cooks even baked her a cake on the last day of the hike for her birthday!  I was glad that Mike would have someone new to talk to – and goodness, did they ever hit it off!  They talked a lot on the trail, which was fine with me, because as many of you know, hiking in the mountains is about the only time that I’m relatively quiet – it’s my form of church.

Our first sighting of a group of Gelada monkeys – walking from Buyit Ras to Sankaber

That day the hike was short and relatively easy, though the temperatures were much higher than I had expected.  Since they were only going to feed us plain bread and bananas for lunch, I asked to stop at the Simien Lodge where I managed to finagle some ham and cheese for our rolls – which made them greatly improved.

That evening, we set up tents and got on a few layers before heading out to a viewing point to watch the sunset.  Everything about camp reminded me of Kilimanjaro – especially the little bowl of hot water they’d put out to do washing before dinner.  Already, many of the hikers at camp were feeling sick and had symptoms of AMS.  Thankfully I felt ok – at least, I did at that moment.

Dinner was very abundant, and just like on Kili, they had already fed us with popcorn and cookies so I wasn’t exactly hungry, but that didn’t stop me from pigging out.  It was lovely and warm in the cook tent, especially when they lit a nice wooden fire which we sat around with tea after dinner.

Start of Day 2 – heading to Geech

I was feeling a bit too full but fine right after dinner and was soon snugly wrapped up in my sleeping bag within a sleeping bag.  I found that I just couldn’t get comfortable and my stomach was rumbling a bit, but I put it down to having overeaten.  Around 11:30 at night, I suddenly felt bile rise in my mouth and I knew I had seconds before I was going to barf over everything in the tent, including Mike.  In those few seconds, I managed to locate my headlamp, unzip my sleeping bags, unzip the tent and stick my head out far enough that when the contents of my stomach emptied out, it was just inches from the tarp under our tent.  Feeling somewhat relieved, I crawled back inside, thinking that I would immediately feel better and be able to fall asleep.

Not so.

I started feeling nauseous and the pain in my stomach was only getting worse.  The hours crawled by slowly and I was soon writhing in agony.  Soon enough, I realized I needed the bathroom and I struggled to walk down to the outhouse because I was also starting to feel feverish and weak.  I won’t go into too much detail about what happened next – but my travel partner Mike the next day best described it as my body mandating a total body evacuation.  I sipped some water on return to my tent, believing that by now, at 3am, the worst had to be over.

I was wrong.  The next thing that happened was one of the most embarrassing and dehumanizing moments of my life.  I shat my pants, and I realized that I was too sick to be able to walk back to the outhouse without help.  I lay there crying and woke up Mike telling him what had happened through gulped tears.  God bless him, he got up and helped me walk back down the hill to the nasty nasty hole in the ground that was the outhouse.

I’m not sure how I still had that much still left inside me, and furthermore I don’t know from where I found the strength to also change my clothes while having to balance on alternating feet in my shoes.  But Mike stayed the whole time and got me some mango juice to sip on once we were back in the tent.

It was 5am and feeling horrifically weak and sorry for myself, I managed to fall asleep.

After only a few hours’ of rest, it was time for us to awaken and head out for our 5-6 hour hike to the next camp.  I didn’t think I’d be able to make it – I felt so lousy.  Problem was, Mike was insisting on accompanying me if I decided to head back to Debark and wait my illness out.   I kept telling him that I wanted him to go on and enjoy the trip without me.  He refused.

Riding the horse after being sick all night

So, – I made a decision to try and walk for the first 90 minutes at which point our guide, Gashaw, informed me that we would be crossing the main road, and if I was still too sick to continue, I would be able to arrange transport from there.

And so, in pain, nauseated and very weak – I started to put one foot in front of the other.  It was pretty bad and required all my concentration.  After the first hour, the pain eased a little bit, and in another 30 mins I found out why – my period had just started.  Oh great – exactly what I needed on top of my nasty bug, I had horrible cramps that I’d mistaken for aftermath of the night before.

At least I was feeling a little stronger, but that didn’t stop me from taking advantage of an offer of a horse ride the rest of the way to camp when we came across a boy with a horse offering rides to presumably feeble tourists who didn’t want to go uphill.  Though it really went against the grain for me to “give up” like that – I reasoned that if I took it easier that day, I just might have the strength to finish the rest of the hike that was two more days and lots more elevation gain – up to Mt Bwahit which was at 4437 M.

Our beautiful campsite at Geech

The views on arrival at our campsite that afternoon were so welcome.  It was a beautiful high altitude plain of grass, open and flat but surrounded by cliffs in all directions.   Thought it was only 4pm, I was feeling utterly spent and happily crawled into my sleeping bag and slept for three hours before I was told dinner was ready.  I also learned that the others had gone on a short hike from camp to watch the sunset and had been stampeded by a larger group of gorgeous gelada monkeys (granted we had seen them several times during the day – but this was a very up, close and personal encounter) as they tried to get past the humans to the cliffs where they would rest for the night inside caves.  I was glad I had chosen to rest and regain strength, but disappointed not to have witnessed this spectacle first hand.

Luckily, Mike was able to capture the event on video and I include it here for your viewing pleasure.

That night in Geech was particularly cold.  I got up around 10pm to take a pee, and for the second night, I noticed our 64-year old scout – a delightfully cheerful though non-English speaking man – sitting out in the open air wearing nothing more than his shirt, thin jacket and a tarp for warmth.  I literally feared for his life and was so worried that I ended up taking the extra jacket that I’d bought in Gonder and went over to where he was keeping watch and offered it to him.  At first he motioned with his hand, “Anita…no, no, it ok!” but then I forcibly unwrapped him from his tarp and put his arms inside the jacket, the hood up over his head and zipped him all the way up.  To my delight, it fit him perfectly (it is very disturbing that the men I come into contact with here seem to all have a body shape and size that would mean I could share my wardrobe with them!)  From that point on, he wore my jacket most of the day, removing it only in the heat of midday – and even then, leaving the detachable hood on his head like the coolest dude ever.  I loved Nursie…he said almost nothing, but was always smiling, saying my name, and saying “Good, good Anita! Strong!”

I gave him the jacket to keep on the last day of the trip.

Nursie – our fearless but chilled scout who kept watch over us

The altitude and remnants of my illness had destroyed my appetite and I forced myself to have a little soup and bread most nights, got porridge in me for the morning and snacked lightly during the day.   As such, I found myself having lost much of the weight I’d gained during my time in West Africa – so being sick and this high up did have some positive consequences.

The third day’s hike was pretty tough – about 8 hours of walking, and I was proud that I managed it – despite still vacating most of what I was eating along the way.  One time I went to pee and found that I peed out of my butt instead without warning.  I felt bad because one is supposed to dig a deep hole to avoid the almost extinct Ethiopian wolves from accidentally ingesting your feces and suffering fatal consequences.  Incidentally, the beetroots I’d managed to eat the night before had turned my product a violent pink color.  I looked for a giant rock to, at the very least, cover up the evidence that I’d failed to “leave no trace”, only to accidentally drop it from a height that caused everything to spatter raspberry colored shit over the entire surrounding area, including my shoes and trekking poles.  I had to use up some of my precious drinking water to rectify the situation, and be on my way – now precariously behind the rest of the group and getting slower as the afternoon wore on.

Looking back, it is still quite a funny story – and I am so proud of myself for not giving up and for pressing on.

More Geladas

As a sidenote to all this talk of excrement (my apologies, dear readers) – the scenery we were passing through was pretty immense and spectacular, despite the fact that it was rather brown given the time of year and it being the dry season.  Much of the wide expanse of ridges below us reminded me of a lighter colored south rim of the Grand Canyon.  Once we’d made it to Imet Gogo – all the suffering was made worthwhile by the incredible views we got to enjoy from this high point.  Unfortunately, this is the typical turnaround point for all the folks who choose to do the 2 night/3 day itinerary.  I found, however, that it was the scenery and the ability to walk along a long ridgeline the rest of the afternoon before descending to Chennek and our 3rd camp night – to be the highlight of the whole trek.

On the descent to Chennek, Mike and I spotted our one far away Ibex, which made us happy – though we were hoping to spot more the next day.  On arrival at camp, we were happy to note that there was a cold water well with a pump where we could take an ice-cold bucket shower.  We took it in turns to pump water for one another, hastily, as the sun was setting and it would soon be cold both by water and air temperature.

3rd day on the way to Chennek

At Imet Gogo

I took another early night as I was very spent, forcing myself to eat a little food.  The group had quite a rowdy dance/singalong by the fire that night, and I tried so hard to enjoy it for as long as I could, then grabbing my hot water bottle and bidding all a good night.

Singalong around the campfire

The next day was an optional day hike to the summit of Bwahit – the second highest mountain in Ethiopia.  Though I had told myself I didn’t really have to summit – I don’t easily give up, and despite having another bout of diarrhea, I proudly made the summit – albeit much more slowly than the rest of the team.  I felt an amazing sense of accomplishment, especially after noting several of the members of other groups on the mountain turning around, tired or deterred by the extreme altitude.

I made it!

Celebrating the summit of Mt. Bwahit

After some celebratory summit shots, I was happy to point my feet downhill for the last time.  We loaded back into 4 x 4’s and were treated to a nice sunny field picnic lunch on the way back where Kamila was presented with a birthday cake made for her by our cook, Messy.

I was relieved when we got to Debark, and though very pissed off at having another drama just getting our bags back (which I talked about in the last article) – was so happy to finally find ourselves in a room at the Hotel Sona resting a bit before going out for dinner.  Unfortunately, the room we found (that Kamila shared since it was a family room with four beds and adjoining rooms) was on the 4th floor of the hotel that didn’t have an elevator – so you can imagine how it felt going up and down those stairs with luggage after the day we’d had.  To add insult to injury, the water was shut off for a few hours but we finally were able to take a restorative lukewarm shower.

Men getting it on, I mean “dancing”, on the dancefloor in Debark

We had agreed to meet up with Messy and Gashaw for dinner, and they took us to a bar where we started with beer.  Everyone was up and dancing (shoulder dancing, that is – my first introduction into this uniqe and rather strange custom of dance that doesn’t include much in the way of hip or lower body movement.)   Funny thing is – it took 30 minutes after we’d ordered food for the waiter to come over and tell us that they were out of food!

Turns out this was the last night before lent and 55 days of fasting for Ethiopians.  So finding food was going to be difficult.  We finally left and went to another bar where more guys were dancing (only with other guys and in an alarmingly intense manner) and I was able to order some injera with veggies and minced meat.  I ate a little and then made my apologies and headed back to our hotel.

It was only a few blocks, but I still managed to get harassed multiple times on the way back.  I was so not in the mood and needed my bed.

What a memory-filled trek it had been.  Proud and happy that I finished what I had started.  It really reminded me how much physical suffering is and can be mind-over-matter.  I pushed myself, hard.  And I had made it!

Last Days of Overlanding – Onward to Cape Town

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Archaeological Sites, Desert, Indigenous People, Tours

Spitzkoppe

Spitzkoppe

It was hard to believe but the 56 day coast to coast overland adventure I’d embarked on in Nairobi was coming to a close.  We had three more days on the road after Swakopmund before we’d arrive in Cape Town and I’d start my independent travel in South Africa.

I can’t say I was sad that the trip was coming to an end.  While there were numerous advantages to being on a truck with a planned route, and tour operators arranged for you  in each destination; it was very challenging for me to not have the freedom that independent travel affords.  I was so looking forward to being able to go where I wanted, when I wanted, to stay for as long as I wanted, and most importantly, to spend time with whom I wanted.

Despite my extroversion, I was really looking forward to some alone time as well.

Leaving Swakopmund, our first stop was a beautiful spot in the desert called Spitzkoppe – an area of stunning red rock formations that recalled to mind similar vistas in Arizona/Utah, Australia, and Jordan’s Wadi Rum.  Our group was greeted by two very cute running meerkats who continued to follow us as we embarked on our two hour guided hike through the area.

Meerkats following us!

Meerkats following us!

Our guide took us to see some cave paintings and told us a little bit about the history of the San people, whom it is believed created the art.  He also talked about the San language and how it related to his native Tamara – which only contains five clicks as opposed to the Bush people’s seven.

We then hiked to a watering hole, though none of us had our swimsuits, which was unfortunate since it was already swelteringly hot.  It was still a very beautiful place and I thought it one of the most scenic spots we’d stopped at on the trip so far.

The following day we visited a farm in the middle of nowhere – desert all around as far as the eye could see.  We were scheduled to have an afternoon/evening desert tour with a man known locally as “Boesmann” or “Bushman”.  He is a white 4th generation Namibian who bought this dilapidated farm, and renovated it in the hopes that he would be able to make a living offering tours of the desert to tourists passing through the area.

At the watering hole in the hot sun

At the watering hole in the hot sun

The tour itself was very informative and interesting (despite the fact that I found his extremely thick accent somewhat hard to concentrate to) and we learned lots of stuff about desert survival.  A few of the tips I remember:

  • If you’re lost in the desert, never go to a tree.  There might be wild animals there.
  • If you get lost in the desert, split up into small groups.  You have a higher chance of survival apparently
  • The San didn’t drink water.  They would suck on the eyeballs of any hunted Oryx and then wring out their stomachs for liquid that would be provided to the women and children. Sounds thirst quenching.
  • You can eat lizards to stay hydrated.
  • You can never kill a beetle by standing on it in the sand.  It will just go deeper into the sand.
  • Never ever help an oryx out of a fence if he’s stuck in it.  He will gore you to death.  Better call the farmer who’s land the Oryx is on so he can shoot and eat it.

Boesmann also gave us some additional interesting information on the Bushmen.  His grandfather, apparently, had one as a pet. Yes, you read that right – people in Namibia  used to have Bushmen that they kept as pets along with their chickens and dogs.   It was legal to hunt and kill bushmen until 1920.  Isn’t that shocking?

"Bushman" giving us his tour of the desert

“Bushman” giving us his tour of the desert

He talked a little about how nomadic they were and their incredible capacities for gorging themselves on meat if they were lucky enough to make a kill.  He said they could eat 20kg of meat in one go and then they would sleep in order to digest it properly.  He also talked about the realities of their nomadic existence and how if they had gone for some days without finding food, it might have been necessary to leave behind the youngest children who might slow the group down.  It was said that it was best to simply walk away and not look back at the abandoned child, left to die alone in the hot desert.  Since they believe that one should never speak of the dead, the mother would sit by the smoky fire that evening, so that if she cried, she could attribute her tears to the smoke.

Rather heartbreaking, isn’t it?

IMG_0018-001

Heading up Soussvlei

Heading up Soussvlei

The following day was a day of fun in the hot sand of Soussvlei, Deadvlei, and Dune 46 – the largest free standing sand dune in the world.  At Soussvlei, we arrived, much to our chagrin, at 12pm – the hottest part of the day when the sun was at its strongest point.  Doing our best to stay hydrated and not get fried to a crisp, we set out on what we thought was a guided tour of the dunes, but we were simply dropped off in a jeep and given no additional information.  Not really sure what we were expected to do – we hiked up the main ridge of the dune and then had a whale of a time running back down (this is by far the most enjoyable part of climbing sand dunes)  Upon our return, we found out that we weren’t actually supposed to climb the dune because we were climbing Dune 45.  What the hell?!

Personally, I was fine with climbing both and welcomed the exercise very much indeed.

That night we enjoyed a beautiful setting for our final bush camp experience.  The setting was lakefront and the only thing that spoilt the location was the amount of trash that had been left behind by previous groups.  Since we’d gotten in before sunset, I suggested that we play the game of charades that the group had so enjoyed together at Okavango Delta.  It was a fun evening until another fight broke out within the group.  Apparently someone thought it funny to put trash in someone else’s locker.  Group dynamics had been somewhat dramatic on this journey, though I suppose that can be expected when you spend this amount of time on a truck.

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Quatchi likes the dunes too

Our final day of the tour itself was initially not even going to happen when Pete discovered the following morning that the truck wouldn’t start.  Panic was soon subsided by the fact that our driver is a mechanical genius, and within an hour he’d replaced whatever vital part wasn’t functioning before and we were on our way.

Our only stop this day was the second largest canyon in the world – Fish River Canyon in the very south of Namibia.  We only had two hours there but it was enough to get a good long walk in to the various lookouts over the edge of the canyon.  I had read about the five day trek that one can do through the canyon, skirting the river along the canyon floor, but the only way to do it non-independently was with a tour operator that was charging well over a $1000 for it.  I would have loved to climb down and see how the views changed based on where you were inside its vertical walls.

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn

Our last night was at a lovely campsite ran by the same coach company – Felix Unite –  that was going to be transporting us in the very early morning to Cape Town.  I had cooking duties this last night, and we made Spanish omelettes, Potato wedges and guacamole.  It was delicious, and I’m finally unafraid of making omelettes!

I re-packed all of my bags, as Tabitha and Pete were kind enough to take a bag from me and transport it back with them to Nairobi where I would be re-joining them in a few weeks.  At first I wasn’t sure if I was going to do the Gorilla Loop tour that lasts 18 days, but since it was going to cost me $375 just to change my international plane tickets, and I did have the time at the moment (if not the funds) I had decided that I was going to go to Uganda and Rwanda after my nearly 3 weeks in South Africa.

At Fish River Canyon

At Fish River Canyon

This trip has really challenged me in many ways that I was not expecting.  At first, it was all too much and I very much regretted coming, and yearned to go home where things were known to me and predictable.  I missed my friends.  I missed having someone to talk to.  And I still do – travel can be a very lonely experience if you haven’t anyone to share it with.  However, I have fallen for the spirit of Africa and made a decision to stick with my original plans and take each day as it comes.  This is what will make me a stronger person – I hope.

I was so looking forward to returning to South Africa, almost 14 years after I had first visited on Semester at Sea.

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Namibia – Cheetahs, Tribal Nakedness, and Extreme Temperatures

18 Monday May 2015

Posted by Anita in Africa, Namibia

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Animals, Camping, Culture, Desert, Safari, Travel Days, Villages

View over the northern Namibian desert

View over the northern Namibian desert

We were on the road staying in a different bush camp each night for several days following Etosha and preceding our stop in Swakopmund – a luxurious four days that we’d get to enjoy the luxury of a dorm bed.  What was fast becoming apparent in Namibia was the difficulty of maintaining bodily comfort due to the excessive swings in ambient temperature each day.  Mornings waking up huddled in my 15 degree F sleeping bag were cold, breath creating its own fog on exhalation.  They required long pants, and fleece layers as well as my wooly hat.  However, by 10am we were often sweltering in the heat of the sun, the temperature starting to soar and then bake us through to sunset when it would turn around and plummet once again.

I came up with an ingenious routine of dressing in layers that could be easily peeled away – so I’d wear my shorts under my long pants, and my tank top underneath a t-shirt and long sleeved shirt and fleece on top, knowing that I could peel the clothes and stow them comfortably in my day bag.

There were times, however, when even this wasn’t adequate – such as during our drive south once we’d hit the western coast of Namibia, known as the skeleton coast, presumably because of the number of ships that had wrecked here as well as the number of skeletons that amass on the shores of the massively populated seal colonies.  Apparently, this area gets a lot of its wind currents from Antarctica, and on two separate days, the cold was so bitter that it sent all of us diving into our lockers to extract our sleeping bags which we proceeded to climb into, fully clothed, even as we sat on our chairs huddled together for collective warmth.

Stroking one of the "pet" cheetahs...not that I approved of the place

Stroking one of the “pet” cheetahs…not that I approved of the place

Namibia is covered with desert landscapes, but also incredibly beautiful rock formations, sand dunes, and miles and miles of beautiful sandy beaches.  Our first stop after leaving Etosha National Park was the Petrified forest park where we endured blistering sun and temperatures for a thankfully short walk to view the petrified logs.  Later we were taken to a rather strange and somewhat disturbing “Cheetah Park” where the white Namibian owners had 3 cheetahs kept in a domestic capacity as pets, together with a group of “fenced in” cheetahs that they fed daily as part of their artificial cheetah safari.  Enquiring as to how they came to have cheetahs on their farm, the owner told a rather disturbing story, but didn’t seem to have any ethical issues with it himself.  He basically explained that cheetahs had been attacking and eating his cows, and that he’d taken to shooting them (around 10-15 years ago) but then one time, decided that he’d catch them instead using a trap.  After successfully trapping one female cheetah, it turned out she was pregnant, and so he decided to take the cubs away from their mother and keep them as pets, and later charge people to come to his home and have pictures taken with his cuddly friends.  Of course, he used slightly different verbiage – but this was the gist of it.

Creepy, right?

 

Pretty Cheetah

Pretty Cheetah

What made the place even more suspect was that we were later driven around what was essentially a penned in area of land where we observed maybe twenty cheetahs all waiting to be fed by the chunks of meat the driver would heave into the air.  Some of the cheetahs looked a little sickly, like they’d been physically harassed by the other cheetahs, and besides my obvious concern over their well being in this regard, I couldn’t shake the feeling that cheetahs really should be roaming free, hunting, and catching their own food.

 

Cheetahs, cheetahs, everywhere...but waiting to be fed?  please....

Cheetahs, cheetahs, everywhere…but waiting to be fed? please….

Hoping for a more authentic experience than the Cheetah park, we headed the next morning on a visit of a Himba tribal  village.  Many of the Himba people living in rural Namibia still live with their traditions and customs that are unavoidably startling and somewhat uncomfortable for us westerners to observe – especially when it is presented in this fashion of “come to our village and see our naked women, our huts, and our children presented to you as if they are exhibits in a museum.”  Except the exhibits are alive and you feel as though you’re violating their rights to privacy taking photos (which they encouraged us to) as if they’re lions in a game reserve.  Ultimately, however, the culture of the Himba people is so foreign and fascinating, that one feels compelled to go and see for oneself, and one can’t help but take photos and swallow the given discomfort that accompanies the experience.

 

Himba woman and her son - I love the village meets western clothing in this pic (see the baby's shoes)

Himba woman and her son – I love the village meets western clothing in this pic (see the baby’s shoes)

Young men of the Himba tribe have their three front lower teeth knocked out by their fathers when they are young teenagers.  We were informed that this both distinguishes their tribal roots and also aids in the pronunciation of their dialect.  Women are mostly naked, dressed in little more than leather strap-like skirts and elaborate beadwork about their necks and chest.  Most notable, however, is the habit of the women not to bathe – at all.  Instead, they keep “clean” through a combination of spreading Okra-based paint onto their skin (which gives them their rich rust-orange like color) and sitting in the huts and “smoking” themselves – which is exactly what it sounds like: sitting in an oxygen deprived hut directly in front of a fire and letting the smoke cleanse your body (though exactly how this happens I’m not sure.)

The men, apparently, wash as we do with soap and water.  Of course, I felt a natural revulsion for their sanitary practices, and I recognize how ethnocentric that stance is, but I’m ok with it.  Making it even more difficult to believe – the women also put copious amounts of okra onto their hair, creating these elaborate headdresses out of their own tresses that they then embellish at the ends with circular mounds of animal fur.

The seal colony on the Skeleton Coast

The seal colony on the Skeleton Coast

I found myself aching to ask how/what the women used during their menstrual cycles and whether they could use water during this time for their ablutions.  I was left, unfortunately, to wonder.

This visit had been a highlight for Andy, a beloved member of our group, who was also celebrating his 46th birthday on the same day.  There were the obvious jokes about getting to see naked women on his birthday.  Since we were facing a very long drive to our bush camp that evening, we all decided to stock up on some booze to go along with the game bbq dinner Tabitha had promised to make us that evening, as a treat.  Around 2pm in the afternoon, someone suggested we crack open the alcohol stash and make a party of the afternoon’s drive, and that was it.

Truck Party time.

Sunset and partying on the roof of our truck in our Bush Camp

Sunset and partying on the roof of our truck in our Bush Camp

Andy put on a rocking compilation of music and we were all soon singing along and dancing up and down the central walkway of the truck.  We just about managed to get out of the truck and scramble to dizzying high viewpoints as the truck stopped at scenic photo opps along the way, though the climbs got progressively more difficult the more libations we imbibed.

By the time we got to the absolutely stunning setting for our bush camp, it was already time for sunset and most of us were winding down from our “night” of drinking.  The meal that night was the most memorable of the whole trip – we ate Oryx or Gemsbok and it was quite possibly the most delicious meat I’ve ever put in my mouth.

By 8 o clock, Andy had collapsed asleep in his tent, so any further party plans were soon squished besides the few of us who decided to make a night of sleeping directly under the stars sans our tents.

Nicely recovered from what had been a “day of revelry” – we happily set off towards the skeleton coast, first re-tracing our route a few miles as two members of the group had lost articles of clothing and hats during the dancing and truck party the afternoon prior.  Half successful, we turned about and headed towards the aforementioned block of cold air that hit us a few hours later, promptly finding us inside our sleeping bags in due course.  We had a number of strange stops that day before our perhaps even more strange stop that night at our camp (that had showers!!) at Hettie’s Bay.  We visited an abandoned oil mining shaft in the desert, a shipwreck on the beach, several more cliff top view points, and most surprising of all – Cape Cross Seal Colony.

Never have I seen this many seals in one place.  It made the Galapagos look like a quiet vacation spot for seals by comparison.  There were literally thousands of them crowded on the beach as far as the eye could see, lots and lots of young pups all screeching for their mothers amongst the masses.  If you looked carefully, you could also spot lots of pups that hadn’t survived and their remaining skeletons littering the beach too.  Reading the interpretive signs that were on display, we were disturbed to read that during the summer months when the pups are born, thousands can perish on a given day if the wind dies down for an extended period of hours – offering no relief from the relentless heat that they are just too weak to survive.

Desert

Desert

The temperature dropped even further as we arrived in Hettie’s Bay – a very very strange and somewhat creepily deserted town that was home for the night.  As it was the birthday of another member of our group, I made my best effort to go out for a drink after dinner – and found myself in a pub that somewhat resembled one of the nasty run down pubs they have in Everett along the Aurora highway.  Except with really bad Afrikaans music playing.

Weird.

I was very happy to arrive in Swakopmund the next day, and the weird Germanness of the town was overlooked, for now, because of the prospect of sheets and a bed for the next re-humanizing four days.

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