Monkeying around in the Simiens

One cold winter’s night in London we were sitting around our flat savouring our regular Monday night curry, watching the BBC’s Life series, as we did every Curry Monday. This week’s program featured Ethiopia’s Simien mountain range. An aerial shot swooped in to show a dramatic escarpment, sheer cliffs over a thousand metres high abruptly ending in jagged pinnacles of sedimentary rock, only to be met by gentle green grasslands of the high plateau. A hundred-strong troop of Gelada baboons grazed peacefully while langemeyer eagles soared overhead. The scenery was stunning. It was a distant dream of ours to one day make it to the mysterious Simiens.

Many years later, that dream was realised. We found ourselves in the rugged mountains of Northern Ethiopia. Our trusty steed was loaded up with tramping gear, food, water and three overlanders grinning from ear to ear. We’d made it to the Simiens and were pretty excited about the prospect of getting the packs out and doing some exploring on foot.

We stopped in at the National Park office in Debark to pay our park fees and pick up our mandatory armed scout and set off into the hills. The scout squeezed into the backseat with his fully-automatic sub-machine gun. He was a rather odd wee chap called Shitea who spoke very little English but did seem to enjoy telling us all the things we weren’t allowed to do and the places we weren’t allowed to go. The only way we could remember his name was to call him “shithead”, which although rather derogatory, did fairly well sum up our feelings towards him as he was a bit of a thorn in our sides for most of the next few days.

We drove up to Sankaber Camp where we were to start our trek, and therefore park our trusty steed – a somewhat nerve-wracking experience! We made Rodders as impenetrable as possible (which isn’t very impenetrable at all really) and set off to find ourselves a mule to carry our packs. Well, we found plenty of mules but we turned out to be the stubborn ones. The muleteer wanted payment in full up front, and while it only amounted to about $5 per day for three days, we didn’t want to relinquish all bargaining power should something go wrong so offered to pay half up front and half at the end. They wouldn’t have a bar of it and demanded full payment up front. We called their bluff and unpacked the mule, shouldered the packs, and set off up the track, expecting to be called back at any moment. The joke was on us as they didn’t call us back, and we trudged on and on along the seemingly never-ending path to Geech village, our lungs screaming for oxygen at every step due to the high altitude.

The track followed the edge of the escarpment through beautiful sub-alpine forests and scrubland. It was fantastic to be in the hills, stretching our legs and breathing in the cool mountain air. We arrived at a spur and walked out on the end to look across to a dry waterfall and down into the Geech abyss below. A couple of cheeky Gelada baboons came up to say hello, but soon lost interest and went back to nitpicking.

A gaggle of scruffy local children gathered on the side of the path to watch us with wide, wild eyes, and once we were past they pelted a few stones in our direction in typical Ethiopian kid style. Shitea pelted a few stones back in retaliation and gave them a harsh talking to. We walked along the road for a while, wondering why we had paid to enter a national park, only to be walking through farmland and villages. It was interesting, just not what we expected from a national park! The tracked veered off to the left, down into the valley and up the far side through barren, tilled fields. It was tough walking at altitude, and Murray (our Aussie hitch hiker), having never been higher than a few thousand metres before was suffering. It started to rain. Trudge trudge trudge, one step in front of the other up the muddy slopes. Slowly we ambled along, stopping every few metres to catch our breath, cursing ourselves for not taking a donkey!

If there was one way to perk Murray up it was with coffee, and nowhere has better coffee than Ethiopia. After several hours trudging through the desolate fields in the rain we arrived at a collection of basic huts perched on the hillside – Geech village. A beautiful, vibrant young woman wearing calf-length verdant green print dress was walking down the path towards us, her face lit up with a brilliant smile. She was wearing yellow, lace-up plastic shoes, and on her back she carried an adorable baby boy. She invited us to her hut for coffee and we readily agreed.

It was dark inside her hut, the acrid smell of smoke hung in the air mixed with the dank smell of wet animals and mud. She seated us to one side while she settled on the mud floor and rekindled the fire with a few well-aimed puffs of breath. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness we took in our surroundings. The hut was divided into two parts, the section we were in was where the meals were cooked over an open fire and the animals slept at night. On the other side of a low wall was a small room where the young woman slept with her family. The walls were made from thin posts covered in mud, supporting a grass-thatched roof. Some new-born chickens cheeped around our feet on the uneven dirt floor and a kitten vied for our attention. The hut was as basic as it gets – there is no doubt life is harsh for most people in Ethiopia. The young woman offered us a basket of puffed barley and a plate of injera and wat while she set about making the coffee.

The story of the humble coffee bean has its roots in the Ethiopian highlands where the coffee plant Coffea arabica originates. According to legend, a goat header from Kaffa noticed his goats behaving strangely, prancing around in a lively manner after eating berries from the coffee bush. The goat herder tried some of the berries himself, and impressed with the results rushed in to tell the monks in a nearby monastery. The monks were disapproving of any mind-altering substances and promptly threw the sinful beans in the fire. The roasted beans emitted such a heavenly aroma they were raked out of the fire and brewed into the world’s first cup of coffee. Coffee has been cultivated since around the 9th century, and it spread from Ethiopia to Egypt and Yemen where it was popularised in the coffee houses of Cairo and Mecca and later spread through the Middle East and Europe.

Ethiopia’s coffee ceremony is a really important part of Ethiopian culture, and it is considered an honour to be invited to a ceremony. It was fascinating to watch – we were all spell-bound by this enigmatic young Ethiopian mother in her bright green dress. She took a handful of green coffee beans and spread them out on large slightly concaved iron plate (also used to make injera). Each bean was inspected and any bad ones were discarded. Next the beans were thoroughly washed. The water was tipped off and the washed beans were then roasted, her nimble hands raking them back and forth over the hot plate, turning them a rich chocolately brown. The smell was incredible! While the beans were roasting, she washed a tray and five tiny white china cups, stoked the fire, fetched some more water and boiled it, as well as suckling her young child. Once sufficiently roasted, the beans were tipped into a wooden mortar and pounded into a fine powder. This took some time and the woman was quite particular about the consistency of the grounds. The grounds were tipped into a clay coffee pot, called a jebena, which was topped up with boiling water and set on the fire to brew. The woman got a hot coal from the fire and lit some incense which was wafted around the room and then set near the door. The five tiny cups were arranged on the silver tray. Once the brew was ready the woman held the coffee pot at some height above the tray and in one steady stream expertly filled each cup to the brim with the delicious smelling coffee. It tasted as good as it smelled, and each time we finished our cup, the young woman would fill it up again and again. It was a wonderful experience and we felt much revived. We thanked the woman and gave her some money for the coffee and food, then bid our farewells and made our way through the village to our campsite set on a grassy plateau above.

The next morning, with our tail between our legs, we paid up front, in full, for a donkey to transport our packs to the next camp. With only our day packs to carry we set off with a spring in our step up the grassy meadows to the escarpment edge, and after several hours reached a summit at the end of a rocky promontory called Imet Gogo at 3926m. We sat and chatted with some Aussies while soaking up the amazing scenery and watching the graceful lammergeyers soar overhead. It was an incredible spot with 360 degree views all the way down to the mountain ranges we would cross in a few days time en route to Axum.

From Imet Gogo we descended nearly three hundred metres, skirting a deep rift with some impressive straight sided cliffs. Brett and I walked along the edge, loving the exposure, but Shitea brusquely shouted No, No, No! indicating that we “weren’t allowed” to walk near the cliffs – we were not too impressed, and his unfortunate nickname was at the forefront of our minds. A 430m climb lay before us, but we just cruised, took our time, enjoyed the sub-alpine flora dominated by the evergreen Erica trees and Giant Lobelias and explored the cliff edge of the escarpment, much to shithead’s displeasure. Near the summit the gradient eased and we came across the fabled troop of Gelada baboons, spread out amongst the rocks and Lobelias picking shoots and seeds from the grasslands. I’m not a baboon fan at the best of times but I instantly fell in love with these shaggy primates. They are called Bleeding Heart Baboons due to the red area of skin on their chest, and they have glorious long silky hair that ripples around them when they run like a model from a Pantene ad! When they’re not grazing, they’re grooming each other which seems like a full time occupation with all that hair! They put Brett’s gingafro to shame!

Heading down the other side of Inatye peak (4070m) the views kept getting better and better. We crept up to the edge of the escarpment (this time with Shitea’s approval) and spied some walia ibex below. There are only about 500 walia ibex left in the world with the entire population found in a small area in the Simien mountains. Hunting, poaching and habitat degradation have greatly reduced their numbers and as such they are listed as critically endangered. Seeing the number of villages and people living in the park (albeit on their ancestral lands) we felt lucky to see any ibex left at all!

We eventually arrived back at the road and at that moment a truck transporting some locals drove past. We waved it down and Brett negotiated the fare. We had been fairly worried the last few nights about leaving Rodders by himself parked at Sankaber camp, so Brett hitched a ride back down there to pick up our trusty steed and drive back up to Chenek. This also meant we didn’t have to walk back down the road which is largely through farmland and not very scenic. Murray and I continued up to Chenek Camp which must have one of the most spectacular locations out of any campsite in Africa! We had a full view of the escarpment rising up to Inatye Peak which we had just walked over. The view was framed by Giant Lobelia and other funky sub-alpine flora, and we were surrounded by hundreds of Gelada baboons, eagles and crows. It was simply magic.

The next morning I got up at the crack of dawn and quietly sneaked out on a narrow ridge of rock that extended out into the void, hoping to catch a closer glimpse of the illusive walia ibex. When I was about halfway along the thunder of hoofbeats sent me diving into the bushes, my heart beating furiously. I gingerly popped my head up just in time to see half a dozen ibexes trot out to the end of the rocky ridge and leap daringly off the end onto the steep cliffs below. One large male remained. He turned his head, the long curving sweep of his horns silhouetted against the distant mountain ranges, then he too leapt gracefully off the edge.

The ibexes may be early risers, but the Gelada baboons, like their ginger brother are evidently prone to a bit of a sleep in! Brett came down to meet me and we wandered over to a nearby cliff to enjoy the early morning sunshine and stunning views of the escarpment and distant ranges. At the leisurely hour of 9 o’clock three scruffy bachelors climbed up the cliff (where they had been sleeping) and emerged over the edge near where we were sitting. They were very sleepy, and spent the next hour going through an extensive waking-up routine, involving grooming, dozing, yawning, napping and stretching. It really was very amusing and a fantastic way to spend a morning chilling out with these charismatic ruffians.

The Ethiopian National Parks Office, in their infinite wisdom, have decided that if you do a three day trek via Geech, that you have to pay for four days park fees, vehicle fees and scout fees. Likewise, if you climb Ras Dashen, which could be done in as little as three days, they make you pay a full eight days park fees – presumably as this is how long it would take if you walked to the summit from the NP office instead of driving up the access road… Ethiopian logic, you gotta love it. Anyway, being the stubborn, tightarse kiwis we are, we decided that if they were going to make us pay for 4 days, we would stay for four days!! Shithead was not pleased. He was, in fact rather shitty with us for making him stay up there and actually “work” for his extra day’s pay. To show his displeasure, he sat himself down close to Rodders and stared at us gloomily. We chilled out with the baboons who were grazing around our tent, occasionally chasing each other up trees and doing some interesting aerobatics. In the afternoon we decided to do something slightly more energetic and walk down the escarpment. Shithead was not happy with this idea. No, he said, we weren’t allowed to walk down the escarpment. We had spent the morning watching all the locals from the nearby villages walk up and down the path through the cliffs – if they were allowed to do it, then so were we. We set off down the steep track, with Shithead glumly following his disobedient subjects at a distance. We spent a lovely afternoon soaking up the scenery, exploring all the nooks and crannys, and sitting quietly on the cliffside watching our very own BBC Life programme unfold right before our eyes. OK, and there was some David Attenborough styles commentary going on too – we couldn’t resist!

There are some pics of Northern Ethiopia on our photos page.

Tips and Tricks

The Simien Mountains are very spectacular and are definitely worth a visit if you’re passing through Northern Ethiopia. If you don’t have time to do an overnight trek then just go straight up to Chenek camp for the night and explore around there – it’s magic! We stayed two nights and loved every minute of it.

Don’t stay in Debark if you can help it – it’s a shithole!! Better to leave Gondor early and head straight into the park. It takes about three hours on a gravel road from Gondor to Debark – although its in the process of being tarred, so will be much quicker soon. Stock up on food in Gondor, supplies are very limited in Debark. There is a produce market near the turn-off to the National Park.

We did the trek independently, and didn’t prebook anything. Just rock up to the National Parks Office, pay your fees, pick up the compulsory armed scout and you’re good to go. You can arrange guides at the National Parks office too, although these aren’t compulsory (but may help to avoid any misunderstandings with your scout, who probably won’t be able to speak much English!).

Many of the organised treks leave from Debark, but in our humble opinion the walk from Debark to Sankaber camp would be pretty long and dull (Its roughly 15km). We were glad we had driven up to Sankaber. We were very surprised to find that much of the “National Park” is cultivated and inhabited, and we only saw a small area that was relatively untouched, although even these areas are used as grazing areas for livestock. The best area was around Chenek camp or higher.

We parked our car at Sankaber, but you could also park it safely at Chenek – both camps have full time staff who can look after your vehicle for a small fee. (We paid Br100 for two days).

If you’re going to do a trek, it’s a good idea to make clear before you start that the scout, guide etc must provide their own food. Even so, it’s best to take extra food as chances are they will still be expecting something.

Be aware that if you want to climb Ras Dashen in less than eight days, you will still be required to pay eight days park fees, and eight days fees for any staff you take. Similarly, with other trekking destinations there are similar rules – if you want to spend only one night at Geech, you will have to pay for two, and if you want to trek to Geech, Chenek and then back to Sankaber taking two nights, you have to pay for three.

When we were there in May 2011 the fees were as follows for foreign tourists (The exchange rate was 1 USD to 16 Birr and 1 GBP to 26 Birr).

Useful waypoints