39: Debark to Gorgora (Ethiopia)

Pictures Here:

Week 39 Update:


Debark, Gonder, Gorgora.

Day 268:
I decided to get up fairly early to start the day’s mission. From inside the comfortable room in the Simien Park Hotel and from under the mountain of bedding I could already tell that the day was going to be a cold one. I managed to brew some Buna (Coffee) in the room and abuse the hot shower before braving the big bad world outside. We were not really going anywhere without new shock absorber washers, so that was number one of the list of priorities. Catt was still feeling fairly rough, so she definitely appreciated the concept of not moving very far or fast.

Our friendly hotel waiter and local fixer met me in front of the restaurant and asked if he could help. I explained that the people in his town were dead set on ripping me off and I was going to have a go and solving my problems without the help of anyone else whose soul purpose in life seemed to be to ad money onto the fee. He insisted on serving me a Macchiato while he sent for the local mechanic… I accepted, and waited and while I was waiting a friendly young lady offered to do our laundry for us. For a fee off course, but a sensible and pre agreed one, so I accepted again.

The mechanic from next door arrived and I was sceptical to say the least. It was the same man who wanted to charge me 2 700 Birr ($165) for a 650 Birr ($40) part the previous day and I really did not feel like dealing with him. However, his first sentence to me had something to do with how the boys that hung around his shop the day before added ridiculous amounts onto the fee he told them, so I decided to give the man another chance. We walked to his workshop and upturned numerous buckets of bolts, screws and washers and when we were unsuccessful he asked me to follow him to his house. He had another stash there and seemed to believe that we would find what we were looking for in it. I followed him into the village and got introduced to his lovely wife and small boy. She even offered me a small cup of coffee while we worked. Half an hour later the dusty and tired mechanic looked up at me with a big frown and said: “Mr, I am so sorry, it seems that I am unable to help you today.” That felt like the first honest sentence I had heard in the country for a long time and I made a point of explaining my appreciation for his honesty. I used some of his tools to clean off the paint of the slightly dented shock absorber and between us we concluded that it was still perfectly functional and not in need of replacing. As I thanked him again and started walking away he told me that if I wanted to buy a new one, he would charge me 650 Birr ($40) and have it delivered to the hotel the next day.

Back at the hotel Catt had dragged herself out of bed and after another caffeine fix we decided to brave the local market around the bus station. We walked the dusty main street, dodging busses and trucks and donkey carts and found ourselves in the middle of a massive village market in no time. I knew exactly the kind of shop I was looking for. We saw a few in Harar’s recycling market and a bunch in the market in Addis Ababa. They were small shops stacked from side to side and floor to ceiling with nuts, bolts and washers. I was sure this market would have one like that and I was absolutely confident that suck a shop will have what I needed. It did not take long to find. We simply followed the sound of hammers beating metal and saw the small man inside his cubicle. I could not explain what I needed as we did not share any language skills, so I kind of explained that I would return with a sample.

Half an hour later I was back, example in hand and explained what we needed. We rummaged through his wares and would you believe it…. He did not have what I wanted. However, he did have three Land Rover shock absorber washers… I recognized them from the size of the Land Rover bushes I had bought in Kenya and I was sure that they would do the trick. I asked him to write down the amount he wanted for them and as he slid the piece of paper towards me, with a massive smile on his face, I laughed and turned to walk away. He water 100 Birr ($6) for three washers. When he called me back, as I knew he would, he offered 80 Birr. I offered 30, he 60 and eventually we settled on 50 Birr ($3) I still felt violated and ripped off, but he was the only man in town that had what I needed and he negotiated well, so I let it slide.

On the return walk Catt invested in a set of 6 small coffee cups for her ceremony set. They were clearly stamped “made in China”, but apparently the fact that they were bought in Ethiopia was the important thing. We paid 36 Birr ($2.20) for the set and I doubted that they would cost that little in China, so I didn’t mind so much. We managed the purchase of tomatoes and bananas without getting ripped off and deemed the morning a great success as we walked back into the relative safety of the hotel compound. Our waiter was there to greet us and was delighted to learn how successful our morning had been.

After the lunch of fresh produce we had freshly acquired, I returned to mission no 1. The first problem I found was that the washers I had procured had a slightly smaller inside measurement than what I needed. The second problem was that apparently the top washer’s inside measurement needed to be smaller than the bottom washer’s. Who would have thunk it?!?!? I spent 45 minutes with a round metal file (Which I had in my tool bag) to rectify that little issue and managed to use some flat washers to mask the cracks in the damaged centre washers. Within an hour we had a perfectly functional and strong shock absorber again and I was delighted! As I was putting the tools away, still admiring my mechanic skills I saw the next problem though. We had flat tyre…

I wasn’t too impressed about the fact that we had managed to puncture new tyre already, but then again, we had managed to drive more than 1 000km of rocky dirt roads since leaving the Chinese Road by Lalibela a week before. Along the way I noticed that men used 12lb hammers to chip bits off the rocks to use as gravel… or something… so splinters of rock hard, razor sharp volcanic debris were strewn all over those roads. I guess that only one puncture was to be considered lucky. I was also dirty already, so I decided to get stuck into operation 2: Tyre fixing.

As I was lying under the back, jacking up the heavy rear axle I had to smile at the conception that I had about flat tyres. I had packed the bottle jack and wheel spanner in a little cubby-hole in the side of the back of the car, thinking that I would probably never use them. I mean, in the seven years of overlanding around Southern Africa, including Namibia’s Kaokoland, we had not had a single flat tyre. Yet there I was, busy dealing with puncture number 5 in 9 months. Once I got the rim off it was easy to find the leak, using a little water and looking for bubbles. It wasn’t a big hole and I managed to plug it without much effort. I had the wheel back on the car and the tools packed away by 16:00 and I felt rather good about the day’s success.

To celebrate I walked over to the National Park office and booked our scout and paid the fees for the next day’s adventure. The fees were a very reasonable 90 Birr ($5.45) per person and the car was 20 Birr ($1.20) for the day. An armed guard, or scout, was compulsory and cost 40 Birr ($2.40) for the day. I would have liked to have a guide as well, but we had to drive into the park for an hour or more and we simply could not make a plan with another seat. On the way back to the hotel a young kid shouted “Hallo Farenji” at the top of his voice. I could feel the elderly man walking next to me stiffen at the obvious lack of respect the youth was showing adults, but when I shouted “Salaam Habasha” back at twice the volume, the old man laughed so much that he had to stop and kneel down. I laughed with him for a while, while the kids were all confused and walked away, defeated. I helped him to his feet and he congratulated me on dealing well with the little trouble makers. We talked about the problem of disrespectful and undisciplined children in Ethiopia all the way back to the hotel. He told me how ashamed he was and how when he was a child, the adults would never allow children to address foreigners that way. He blamed the internet and TV for the change and I almost felt like agreeing with him.

As if on cue, his point was proven when I left him and found Catt in the internet café. The obviously successful establishment was actually inside a ship’s container on the side of the mechanic’s workshop, but the connection was as fast as anything we had experienced in the country. Catt was tucked away in one corner while four or five children were occupying the numerous computers, absolutely fixated to the screens… every single screen was open on Face Book and every single young boy and girl was talking to their “friends” in strong American accents while typing away like old pros. Personally I believe that every person in the world should have access to the big bad internet, but the scene was so incredibly out of place that it was almost comical.

The night was dark, cold and windy, so finding comfort in an almost warm bed within four permanent walls was a rare treat. We had an early dinner consisting of whatever we could find in the car and went to bed shortly after. We were highly excited about walking in the mountains the next day and even, with a little luck, spot some more of Ethiopia’s endangered species.

Day 269:
The alarm woke us up early and long before the sun could reach over the walls of the hotel compound. We leapt out of bed like two children on Christmas day… Hang on… It was Christmas day… Actually, in Ethiopia with their different calendar it was about 12 days before Christmas, but for us it was the 25th of December 2010. We had a quick shower and brewed a healthy amount of coffee before braving the cold world outside. It was a brilliantly crisp and clear morning in the mountains and I could not wait to get going.

As I walked up to Maggie I found a little snag in our plans though. We were parked in. I found our self appoint ted fixer/waiter and asked him to locate the driver of the Land Cruiser. He assured me that there was no problem and the man would be there directly, so I started Maggie’s engine for the lengthy process of reaching running temperature. 25 minutes later the scout, who had arrived perfectly on time, was getting impatient and I was ready to scream! I marched into the manager’s office and explained that I would hold the hotel responsible for the financial loss of every hour of the day due to their guest prohibiting my departure. Wonder upon wonder that seemed to do the trick as someone else, not the driver, arrived within minutes and moved the car to another parking spot… A vacant parking spot that he could have used the night before instead of parking me in…

With Maggie’s engine at running temperature and my poor wife using the centre consol for a seat, we picked up our guide and set off towards the heavens. It took an hour of driving uphill and around sharp bends and corners to reach the entrance gate to the park. We drove through villages and fields and saw many people on the road and were really looking forward to the prospect of being relatively alone in the big cold mountains. The lady at the gate checked our permits, smiled and indicated that we may pass. We drove another half hour to the exclusive and $120 a night Simien park Lodge, claiming to be the highest hotel in Africa at 3 200 meters above sea level. The villages, fields and population had not diminished in the slightest, but we thought that it would all change as we pass the lodge. We were, after all inside a National Park…

About a kilometre past the lodge I had to stop! The scout had indicated that there was a viewpoint to get out at and I could not believe my eyes! It was bigger and more impressive than anything else we had seen in the whole country and it came complete with a whole troop of Gelada Baboons! We parked up and got out and followed the scout’s example of walking straight into the middle of the troop. The did not seem to care one bit and before I knew it I found myself lying flat on my stomach taking photos. It was hardly surprising that they were nicknamed “the bleeding heart Baboons”. From the youngest baby to the oldest female to the biggest male in the group had a perfectly bald heart shaped patch on their chests. In the early morning light they seemed to glow scarlet red making for an incredible contrast between them and their environment. The setting could also not be more perfect! They were scattered along the very edge of a massively high cliff with the dramatic jagged edges mountains filling the backdrop to complete the picture. The family units were easily identified and the early morning grooming session seemed to be in full swing. We spent a glorious hour in their midst and not a single one of them charged money to have their picture taken!

Leaving the troop we ventured deeper into the mountains and found the Sankaber Camp site. We were told that there was a waterfall within a two hour walk from the camp site. Our intention was to leave the car there, do the estimated four hour return trip to the falls and drive back towards the lodge in the afternoon. It was after all in the National Park… We parked up and packed a day sack while having coffee with our scout. He was fairly impressed that we managed to conjure up the Buna in the mountains without a coal fire. As we shut the doors and started to walk off though we were approached by another man with another AK47. He told us that he would be willing, for a fee off course, to look after Maggie while we were away. I frowned and asked him why he deemed it necessary to have a guard for Maggie. I asked him if his country consisted of a majority of criminals. He all but confirmed that theory and told us that his fee was the same as the full day’s fee for the scout. I obviously argued that the scout was paid for a 12 hour service and that we would be happy to pay him a fair hourly fee on that scale, but he was not happy with that arrangement. I even tried to explain that we would negotiate a fee on our return, but he was having none of it. He wanted a full day’s wage and that was that! In fact, he said… and I quote… “If you do not pay me a full scout day fee to guard your vehicle, someone will probably throw rocks at your car and things will get broken.” Nice….

So we got back in the car, shouted something along the lines of “farewell you fucking criminals” and drove off to the utter amazement and astonishment of our scout who did not understand a word of what happened at the camp site. I did manage to communicate the problem to him and he honestly seemed to understand that charging someone a fee to look after a car that was inside a national park and parked at a national park camp site was somewhat ridiculous and actually totally taking the piss. He obviously also felt sorry for us as with a vigorous shaking of the head and pointing of the arm he got us to drive deeper into the park instead of straight out the gate we had entered. Fifteen minutes later he called a halt and I parked Maggie on a smooth and flat grassy patch next to the road. There were some curio sellers a few meters away and I was convinced that our man wanted to show us that. However, we followed him straight past them and onto a clear foot path, leading into a forest and along the contours. The mission suddenly became clear as we stepped onto a massive rocky outcrop and saw the waterfall in question.

It was magnificent! It was obviously towards the end of the dry season as the stream was very small indeed, but you could see the water marks from where the tumbling torrent had left its inscription in the rocks. It was at least 180 meters high and seemed to be able to span around forty meters in full flood. The point we were standing at was across a narrow and deep gorge and I could just imagine how we would have gotten wet of the spray, had the rivers been full. We hung around there until the temperature of my blood returned to normal and after we met and greeted two other groups of hikers it was time to go. We walked back up the steep grassy bank and found Maggie perfectly safe and totally untouched… and it did not even cost us anything. We were by then calm enough to come up with an alternative plan for the day. It was obvious that we were not going to be able to do the hiking we had wanted to, but we could still explore a large part of the park by vehicle. The GPS indicated a fantastic view point some 20km away, so we decided to venture there before back tracking to the lodge.

The drive was fairly astonishing to say the least. The one great disappointment was the way that the park, although demarcated, was totally inhabited and cultivated. We drove up as high as 3 800 meters with huge clouds of black smoke erupting from Maggie’s exhaust, but we made it. Along the way we had to decline the millions of offers of curios and ridiculously inflated Farenji prices and had to refuse the thousands of requests for lifts to the next village. I could really not understand why we had to pay to be there. It was in fact ten times more populated than the road we drove from Lalibela to Aksum. It was a lot higher above sea level, and the mountains were a lot more dramatic for sure, but we could have just as well been in any part of the overpopulated and cultivated country.

Before long we reached our chosen view point, parked up and decided to take a short stroll. Close to the Chennek Camp site and around 3 600 meters high we saw a couple of Bearded Vultures floating around on the currents. That was a pretty amazing sight and I had only ever seen them in South Africa’s Drakensberg before. The two that were around was obviously enjoying the altitude, the temperature and the up draughts as they seemed to play with the contours like old aviation professionals. Another movement on the ground made me look in another direction and before I could say “what on earth is that?” the scout, as excited as I had been early that morning pointed while hopping in one spot and said “Walia Ibex”. Those mountain goat like creatures were endemic to the region and there were only around 600 of them left. It was, according to all we knew, almost impossible to see them and when your local scout gets that excited about a sighting; you just have to know how special it is! They did not hang around for long, but we managed one or two quick trophy photos before they disappeared into the thick bush.

The viewpoint itself was absolutely unbelievable! We stood on the very edge of a massively high escarpment with a 200 degree view over an absolute abyss. I guessed that the bottom of the valley that we could see was at least 2 000 meters lower than we were and the winter dust made a definite brown line in the air above the horizon. I could have stayed there forever, hiding away from the populated mountain I did not enjoy that much and I would have stayed a few minutes longer had it not been for the kids who found us with their familiar “you you you you… give me…” bollocks! It was obviously time to leave. We walked as briskly as the altitude would allow until we got back to Maggie, jumped inside and shut the doors before the masses could harass us more. The engine, predictably, took longer to start than normal and the big clouds of smoke were enough to keep the onlookers at bay.

The drive down the mountain was monumentally easier than the drive up. We only dropped about 400 meters in altitude over about 20km, but it felt like we were coasting most of the way. We passed hordes of locals with donkeys and horses abusing their animals to the maximum of the loads they could survive. The number of lame horses made me angry at the owners and I turned into the disrespectful man that I hated turning into. I could not understand how people could treat their animals in such a cruel way, but then again, they treated each other only a little better and they treated foreigners far worse. I hated the country for turning me into that man and I really felt that I had had enough and that that it was time to get out.

An hour or so after mid day we arrived back at the highest hotel in Africa and decided to abuse their “safe” car park for our lunch break. We made up some sandwiches and presented our scout with one. He was almost surprised to be given food, but obviously fairly grateful. To warrant our stay we decided to have a coffee in the restaurant and asked the waitress to give our scout whatever drink he wanted. When the bill came I was a little surprised to find that our two coffees cost less than his one soft drink. I blamed transport… However, for his sins we made him take us on a walk from the hotel. He showed us another breathtaking view from another breathtaking cliff edge and as he turned around to go back to the car I pointed in the other direction. He didn’t seem too impressed, but there was no argument. I figured that we had him for the day and that we should use that day to the fullest.

We walked for long enough and far enough to calm down completely. I even started enjoying the mountain air and the frustrations of the earlier part of the day almost seemed to melt away into the impossibly far horizons. We timed it so that we had just enough time to walk back up the hill to where we had left Maggie and drive out the park before closing time. The walk back was fast and fun and almost resembled exercise, which was not something we had done in quite a while. In fact, we walked so fast, partly due to our scout being in a hurry, that we made it with at least half an hour to spare. We greeted the hotel guard, who did not demand any money for his parking space, started the engine and rolled out of there in time to see a massive troop of Gelada Baboons crossing the road. The way down with the low sun behind us was very pleasant in deed. It also did not take as long as we had though tit would and despite the numerous times I stopped to take another photo of the view or the people, we made it back to town and the pleasant and relative safety of our hotel an hour before sunset.

The scout said “ameuseuganallo” (Thanks), hopped out the car and started walking away. I was so confused by this that I called him back. I thanked him for his day, shook hands with him in the traditional Amharic way, which pleased him a lot and handed him a 20 Birr ($1.20) tip. His smile could have gone right around his head if he did not have ears in the way. He seemed genuinely pleased with the result and I felt almost guilty about my feelings towards his fellow countrymen… Almost. The hotel manager asked about our day and before I could say a single word Catt gave him a perfect account of the camp site incident. She added that we could not understand how we were expected to pay money to visit a perpetual Ethiopian village inside a perpetual Ethiopian field. He did not expect that! He even apologised for it all. The self appointed waiter/fixer approached me next and asked the same question. I quickly said “it was fine thank you….” Before Catt could rip into him as well.

We retreated to our room and started making plans for dinner. Despite the lack of walking in the mountains we were still fairly exhausted from the day’s antics and we did not really feel like mixing with other Farenji in the hotel restaurant. Instead we fired up the Cobb and made some Pizza dough. We raided our fairly well stocked fridge and freezer and once the Cobb stopped smoking we even carried that into our room. Catt started working on her masterpieces while I ventured to the bar to retrieve a bottle of Ethiopia’s finest red. Even the bar lady knew what I was after before I said it, so it was definitely time to move on! However, it was Christmas day and we had to have a Christmas dinner damn it!

By 19:30 we were around our modest table with a candle burning on it. We had an open bottle of fine red wine and feasted on Calzone ala Catt and Cobb. The filling was the freshest vegetables than money could buy and bacon… that stuffs you would not be able to buy in Ethiopia due to its host animal. For pudding we had calzones stuffed with banana and chocolate, which were so sweet and yummy that it also should have been illegal! We ate to bursting point and drowned the bottle of wine and by 21:00 we were stuffed and tired and ready for bed. The light on the water heater read maximum temperature though so we just had to abuse the hotness of the showers before slumbering in.

Day 270:
There was no real rush to get out of bed, so we snoozed until after the last of the Farenji busses had warmed their engines and departed for their new destinations. By the time we had showered and had coffee the cleaning ladies were already done with most of the rooms and were just waiting for us to vacate ours. We packed the car, checked the shock absorber bushes and tyres, found everything in order and fired the engine into life. We waited until Maggie sounded ready and drove out slowly. The waiter/fixer waved us good bye with expectant eyes and the manager smiled as we drove past his office. The boy who had helped me in the market the previous day jogged by my window mumbling something about money and with that last, not so fond memory of the town of Debark, we left it in a cloud of well deserved dust. If I could, I would have lifted my leg to urinate on it all.

As if we had not had enough of the northern Ethiopian road works, they started up again just on the outskirts of town. We entered another powdery dusty and totally overused mountain track next to what would become the high way of the mountains. We dodged rocks and tractors and graders through numerous valleys more while watching the disrespectful local lorry and bus drivers destroy the brand new compacted surfaces waiting to be tarred. Feeling fairly confident that we would ever drive that specific road again we selfishly did not care too much about that.

It took us a shade over two hours to reach our next chosen town of Gonder. We had obviously left the mountains and the passes and entered a surprisingly modern looking town by a surprisingly new looking tar road. We decided to try a hotel that no other traveller had told us about first. The $35 price tag on the other hand made us reject that idea pretty fast and instead we drove straight to the Belegez Pension, the establishment of choice for overlanders. That was obviously not a mistake. As we stopped in front of the big blue gates a security guard opened them and showed us in. We parked behind a 7.5 tonne Mercedes off road camper with German number plates and almost next to a Zebra striped Isuzu camper we recognised from Nairobi. The place was spotlessly clean with a cement floored courtyard and rooms to either side of it.

The price for camping was only 25 Birr less than a standard room, so we decided to splash out. Our 100 Birr ($6) got us a comfortable double bed and basin as well as an electrical point to plug the fridge into. The facilities were shared, but seemed nice enough. The temperature was high enough so that I did not really care too much about hot water. We fully intended to go site seeing in the afternoon, but got truly stuck, chatting to Arthur in the safety of the Pension courtyard.

Arthur, a semi retired history teacher from Switzerland, was in Africa on a personal mission. He had been a research assistant to someone else in Kenya some 20 years before and decided to return to write a thesis on the changes in Africa. It seemed like the title had to be something like “what went wrong in Africa?” He told us how he had interviewed the same people he had years before and was struggling to figure out how the reality of that day was so incredibly different to the dreams they had decades before. Being a history buff, he gave me some very interesting insights into the third words and the time it took to develop a country. He told us that Switzerland was on its knees with one of the worst economies in the world 150 years before. The theory was that it took three generations to build up a first world country, provided that the country worked towards that goal. Ethiopia loved to brag about how it was the only country in Africa that had never been colonised. However, with the amount of aid organizations dwelling the roads and alley ways, it wasn’t like they were independent by any means.

All intelligent conversations had to come to an end though. We had decided to give up on the idea of visiting the ancient sites of Gonder that day. Instead we followed Michael and Sabine, the German’s in the truck, to a rumoured coffee shop with free wifi. The shop in question was part of the restaurant of the Central Gonder Hotel and the rumours were in fact correct! We managed to check up on some emails, upload some photos and even update our blog in a few hours. It was a painfully slow process by the African standards we had been accustomed to, but it was reliable enough to achieve what we set out to. While Catt was doing the last internetting I went in search of a bottle store to replace my two empty wine bottles. I walked up and down the main street and finally a young man in very American dress asked if he could help me. Knowing the game all to well I declined his help and spotted the shop of choice almost at the same time. I pointed straight at it and said: “I found what I was looking for thanks…” He still insisted on following inside. I asked about the wine, which they had in stock and asked the price. I knew enough Amharic to understand the number 30 and thought 30 Birr a bottle was fair. My self appointed guide, with his big sheepish smile and sideways Yankee cap proudly announced “120 Birr each”. I lost it! I rubbed my hand over my lily white arm and shouted something about being white, not stupid! I called him a rude and dishonest racist and told him that he should be ashamed of himself! Then I turned to the smiling owner of the shop and gave him a piece of my mind as well. I backtracked, in perfect English, explaining that if tourists were stupid enough to fall for that old trick, he couldn’t do anything about it. Needless to say that I left without the wine and returned to the restaurant fuming! Every day! Every single day in that damn ridiculous, racist hell hole of a cesspit of the arse end of the world I started out with new hope and in a good mood, usually defending the ridiculous actions of the idiots of the previous day. And every single shitty day I was proven wrong by someone else!

We thought it only fair to have dinner in the restaurant after abusing the facilities and when the menu arrived my jaw dropped! They had Pizza! The picture looked deceivingly mouth watering but when I saw a pizza delivered to the table next to ours my mind was made up! The food was delicious! The wine was cheap and the beer was cold and we had a fantastic time munching on it all. Catt had a salad that filled a whole plate and when we were all done we could hardly stand up from eating so much! The bill arrived to reveal another pleasant surprise: Usually Ethiopians add 15% Vat and then 10% service charge to any price displayed on a menu. These guys had it included already, so the meal, including drinks cost less than $10. We walked back to the Pension in total darkness with jackets covering our Farenji arms and scarf’s covering our Farenji heads. No one saw us as different to themselves as we managed somehow to melt into the crowds on the street. We were not bugged or bothered and it was only when we knocked on the gate to the Pension that we were treated differently to any local person. It was quite a relaxing way of travelling!

I found Michael and Sabine in their truck and swopped a few tips and travel secrets over another glass of wine. Only they had Italian nectar instead of the plonk we had been used to. I was almost too scared to finish it! It was past 23:00 by the time we crawled into bed and sleep came easy… not surprisingly.

Day 271:
My main mission for the day was to get up early and photograph ancient buildings before the light turned flat. That would have perfectly achievable if we managed to drag ourselves out of bed before 8:30. By the time we had had morning coffee and found out that the hotel, and most of the town was without water, it was too late for morning photography anyway. Michael and Sabine were on their way out so we had to move the car and a young boy from the hotel saw his opportunity to solicit some business. Maggie was caked in the dust of 1 300km of dirt roads and powder dust and he insisted that he had enough water spare to wash her. We negotiated a fair price after I warned him about none payment for sloppy work and I watched him get stuck into it.

At the same time Michael told me that was charged $900 for a new leaf spring and two new shock absorbers for his truck. I almost fell off my feet when I heard that! In fact, I had to sit down to wait for the hot flushes to subside. By then I was an Ethiopian shock absorber expert and measured the parts of his truck, finding that they were very nearly the same size as the Land Cruiser ones I had. I could not simply ignore it, so I had to tell him that I paid $100 for a set in Addis Ababa. With a quick calculation we worked out that the labour charge of his mechanic was about $550 for two hours work. I also told him that Giorgio, our Italian hero in Addis Ababa charged us $55 for two day’s of labour. It was settled; I could not let them drive off into the sunset! I had to sit them down and explain the costs of things in the country. We made a quick list of food and labour costs as well as Hotel and guide fees and only then did I feel confident that they would survive. As I watched the back of the truck disappear around the last corner I had to smile and almost wish that I had someone to teach me the basic rules of the country on my first day.

Maggie’s minder and washer came to collect his fee. I walked outside the gates for an inspection and had to congratulate the young man on a job well done. She was sparkling and he even managed to wash the parts of the car that the man in Sodo’s Tourist Hotel missed. I paid his modest fee and sent him on his way while I parked Maggie back inside the compound. It was mid morning by the time all that was done and there was simply not much point in trying to achieve too much for the rest of the day. We had already decided to visit the Central Gonder’s free wifi and good restaurant again that evening, so all we had to do was burn time until the late afternoon.

We decided to visit the market and try and procure some much needed fresh produce supplies. At the very first store we acquired our very own, uninvited and self appointed guide and translator. Catt shooed him off, but I definitely recognised him from the Pension. He was friends with the deaf kid who washed Maggie. I greeted him with some scepticism and told him that we did not need a guide, but he was welcome to walk with us and chat if he wanted to. He indicated that he understood the ground rules, but still asked what we were after. “Just a walk around the town” came my none committed reply. We found a bottle store along the way and I managed to trade my two Gouder Wine bottles for full ones. The cost was 27 Birr ($1.63) each. That did not feel I was getting ripped off and I even managed to complete the transaction without the help of our insistent self appointed guide.

We walked through the Markato and found the vegetable stores and stocked up. Tomatoes, potatoes, cabbage and onions for a reasonable price per kilogram. Our helper mentioned that he “organised” us Habasha prices at least twelve times and I kept on thanking him and telling him that we could manage by ourselves. We insisted on not following him where he insisted on leading us and when he saw that we were heading back to the hotel the obvious fun started: He asked Catt to buy him a book. “We know that trick” she said. We knew that in Gonder the kids get fresh arrivals to buy them books and then return them the same day for the money. When he saw that he was not getting out of Catt he tried me. Little did he know that Catt was the one with the big heart and generous wallet. I told his straight: We did not ask his help and we made it very clear that we could manage without him. We made it clear that we did not need a guide and he should have known that there would be no payment at the end. I told him to learn the lesson: Make your price before you spend your time. That way there could be no confusion. I doubt that our separate speeches and lessons had any impact what so ever, but at least it made me feel better.

A quick visit to the Dashen Bank ATM saw us back at the Pension for lunch. We pulled the awning out and impressed every single local by our ingenious way of creating instant shade in the hot and sunny courtyard. The water tank they used as emergency had enough water so we could wash our vegetables before stuffing our faces. There was still no sign of running water, so a shower was still out of the question. It was starting become a little annoying to pay for facilities that did not exist, but we also accepted that Ethiopia was the pinnacle of false advertising and empty promises. We were discussing that very principal with a couple of backpackers from Belgium when a neatly dressed man walked past assuring us that he was not lying and that the water would “come back”.

The afternoon rolled by in a lazy fashion and by the evening the Belgium’s were back from their excursions and shared their findings: He was also a photographer and told me that the ancient ruins were in fact best photographed in the early morning, as I had suspected. He also told me about the famous Debre Berhan Selassie church and it’s fantastic interior. We started chatting about travels and the places we all knew and before we knew it we ended up back at the central Gonder for dinner. They samples the vegetarian Pizza, ordering medium ones that looked exactly the same size as the large one I ordered the night before, only 25% cheaper. I had roasted lamb that melted in my mouth and once again there was no disappointment… in the food. We had a fantastic and unexpected night out with our new acquaintances and almost managed to forget about the terribly negative things we had experienced through the day… once again.

Day 272:
The alarm woke us up early. The courtyard was still not in sunlight, but the high walls were heating up from the outside. While boiling water from our own supply I learned that the town’s supply was still not “back” yet. I could not wait to see the man with his promises from the previous afternoon. When he did make an appearance he pretended not to know what I was talking about, helping me to prove my point. So coffee’d up and shower-less we told the mad that we would stay another night despite the facilities and marched out the gate of the water less Pension in search of new adventure. We were less than 10 meters from the gate when another man, the owner, called us back. I was sure he did so to tell us that the water was “back”. However, the news was not that good. He called us back to tell us that the municipality was closing the road in front of his Pension for at least three days while resurfacing it and that we had ten minutes to move the vehicles out before they did so. So instead of taking early morning photos of castles and ruins, we marched back into the Pension to clear our room and move on. It was becoming quite ridiculous!

As we drove out in the nick of time we made a flash decision to spoil ourselves. We drove the two minutes down the road to the Central Gonder Hotel and asked if they could accommodate us for the night. They did indeed have vacancies and they assured us that they not only had water, but also hot water and electricity and not forgetting the free wifi, we decided to stay. The fee was steep and two and a half times the price of the Pension, but with promises of luxury we felt it was worth it. It was an hour before check in time, so we parked Maggie right in front of the door and the 24 hour security guard’s nose and went walk about.

Our first mission was the Royal enclosure in the centre of town. It was only a ten minute walk from the hotel and we even managed to find the very well sign posted entrance without the charged help of the hordes of unofficial guides. We paid the openly published entrance fee and by the time the first official guide approached us for business we were simply not in the mood, so declined his expertise. We could however not help but be wildly impressed with the scene before us. It was almost as if we had time travelled back in history and was staring at the way the country used to be. The 70 000 square meters walled enclosure had no less than 11 different structures! The most impressive and oldest was the almost restored, 32m high palace of Fasilada. It was said to be more beautiful than Solomon’s house in it’s hey day, but apparently an earth quake in 1704 and some strategic bombing by the barbarians (British in that case) in 1940 made small work the roof and the gold leaved mirrors and furniture inside. The building as it stood there was still incredibly impressive and you could almost hear the ancient voices coming from the original floorboards and roughly hewn stone walls.

The same ruler had a library which was restored some Italian barbarians who thought it a great idea to paint the outside cream after plastering it and installing pane glass window frames. Next door was the ancient archive, thankfully left alone to look like it had been and close by we found the Lion cages of which the last one was built by the Man Selassie himself. These held Abyssinian Lions as late as 1992. There was an ancient and hugely impressive banquet hall and a row of stables that still smelt of horse manure. The ruined Turkish Bathes were filthy and in a desperate state of disrepair while the Palace of Iyasu I, the closets structure to Fasilada’s house was almost left as original, apart from a section of roof that collapsed thanks to some bombing. It took two hours to work our way though the impressive and history filled compound and we could have stayed much longer. However, the promise of hot showers at the newly acquired hotel room screamed for attention, so we left.

We were allocated a room at the end of the corridor and after carrying our meagre belongings into it I stripped down, took a deep breath and turned the taps… Nothing. Not a single drop of water came out. So I stepped out, got dressed and marched down to reception to launch a complaint. The friendly and slightly frizzled receptionist told me that there was no electricity, so no water, so no shower… sorry. Well, sorry was simply not good enough I though! I was paying a premium for staying in a place that assured me that their facilities were working. The owner/manager became involved and told me that he did indeed have water. The problem was that it was in a tank on the ground and needed to be pumped to the roof tank before the showers would work. The pump however needed electricity and he was assured by the municipality that the power cut would not last longer than 30 minutes. I found that fairly acceptable, so walked back to the room to share the news. The electricity came back on within ten minutes and from our room I could actually hear the water pump working and see the little light on the water heater glowing red. I gave it the full half hour, thinking the water would be hot enough for me by then and stripped down once more. I got into the shower, turned the taps on and… Nothing… NADA! Not a single drop of moisture came out. So I got out the shower, got dressed and marched down to reception… again.

The confused receptionist accompanied me back up to the room to double check and once she established that I was really not stupid, or lying, she offered us another room. She did however say that the power was off again and that we should wait another half hour before trying again. So another half hour later I could not bear the thought of another disappointment, so sent my darling wife into the shower to investigate. She spent long enough in the room to shower and I did not want to interrupt her. However, when she came out her lips were blue from being so cold and she got dressed and jumped into the bed to thaw out. I was NOT willing to pay more than twice the price for a room with a cold shower… So I marched back to the reception to complain once again. That time the receptionist took me very seriously. She sent a maintenance man with me to check things out and after he spent another half an hour with spanners and wrenched in the bathroom he announced that he too could not get it working. By that time the electricity had gone off again, so we needed to wait… another half an hour… before trying again. We decided to break for lunch…

The restaurant was after all just down the stairs and did after all serve very nice food! Catt ordered a salad and I ordered a club sandwich and my belly was rumbling like the earthquake of 1704 by the time the food arrived. It looked fantastic and I took a massive bite of my sandwich. It took my breath away. Not because of the delicious taste, but because of the insane amount of raw and fresh chillies in it. I could not speak, I could not scream and I could not stop Catt from taking a bite of the salad. When I stopped salivating involuntarily I managed to tell her to be careful, but as she actually liked spicy food she just called me a whoos and swopped the plates around. I took one bite of the salad and experienced the same uncomfortable and terrible sensations as the sandwich. She laughed at me the cow, and when she took her first bite of sandwich I saw her expression change. It was almost like a cartoon. Her eyes went big and red, her cheeks puffed up and the steam came from her ears, but she insisted on finishing that quarter of bread. When she had done so she announced that she needed to run to the room to get our bottle of mineral water and that she had no skin left on her palate.

The waiter, in his usual friendly way came by to ask if “everything was OK” I told him that it was not. I told him that the food was incredibly hot that we could not eat it. Then he asked if we were fished with our plates. Confusion took the better of me so I told him that we were indeed… as we could not eat the food at all. His next action took me totally and utterly by surprise! He took the salad and handed it to the man behind the coffee bar. He in turn did not even try to hide the fact that he was eating it. He shovelled the salad into his mouth and I saw his eyes go big and his face go red, but he did not seem to mind. Next he took the sandwich off the table, but at least he had the decency to take that down the stairs into the kitchen. I was about to leave when the same man presented me with the bill for lunch. I was dumbstruck”! I was too dirty, too tired and too frustrated to argue, so I paid for the coffee man’s salad, the kitchen staff’s sandwich and left to the room for another hot attempt at the hot shower.

The maintenance man assured me that the power was on the tank on the roof full and that I was sure to have satisfactory outcome to my quest for cleanliness. So in the room I stripped down, entered the bathroom, opened the taps and… nothing… NADA! I screamed! I got dressed, walked down to reception while counting to ten in English, Afrikaans, Swahili and Amharic all at the same time and asked the receptionists what she would have done if she was in my position. She did the only thing she could; she moved us to yet another room, hoping that we would not stay long. The maintenance man helped us move our bags. He opened the hot tap and cold tap and showed me that they were both working. I felt the water flowing into the basin and it was indeed hot, so I was satisfied. I stripped down, entered the shower, and turned the tap and… mmmm the hot water pressure could best be described as the same amount as the sweat hanging of a coat’s balls. I gave up! I did scream one more time and I was fairly certain that it was loud enough so the man at the Belegez Pension could hear me. I had a shower so cold that it took my breath away and left me shivering after I dried myself with my own towel. I was hungry and not impressed!

In the afternoon we walked up the hill and found the Debre Behan Selassie Church. The very impressive building stood on a high hill on the edge of town and somehow managed to escape the raids of the barbarians (Sudanese Dervishes in 1880). The story goes that when they got to the gates and wanted to enter, a swarm of bees attacked them and chased them away. That was quite lucky as I found it by far the most impressive inside of any church that we had seen in Ethiopia. The roof was lined with rows upon rows of faces. They call them “winged cherubs”, whatever that may mean. The walls were covered in ancient paintings and unlike the hidden treasured of Lalibela; this church displayed its treasures in a glass cabinet for all to see. The modest priest sat in one obscured corner reading his scriptures and the local followers came and went as if the sight of us was normal. The place was peaceful and calm and just sitting in the gardens relaxed me and dissolved the frustrations of yet another disappointing day in the country. By the time we left I felt refreshed, and thawed out completely in the warm afternoon sun.

We walked back to the royal enclosure for one afternoon picture of the big palace. Rather than walking the main streets and past all the tourist shops and touts, we decided to walk through the suburbs. We could see the towering shape of the turrets, so it wasn’t as if we could get lost. As we came closer and closer to our destination I started recognising a few small land marks and just before we reached the main entrance we passed the Belegez Pension. The road was indeed marked as closed, but nothing had changed since that morning. I thought that perhaps they had run out of “residents only” signs which were why they simply closed the road and prevented their tax paying hotelier from making money… and paying more taxes… Bizarre I tell you!

The afternoon light was kind to the old buildings in the enclosure and offered a totally different view to the morning. The Belgium was correct in saying that the morning was great, but I would rather recommend spending both times of day there. The afternoon had a heap of tourists visiting the site, but the side of the palace lit up by the sun was definitely its most impressive! We did not linger long though and by the time the sun’s last rays left the top of the highest tower, we were safely back at the Central Gonder Hotel. I met the owner on the steps and asked the Amharic word for spicy. When he wanted to know the importance I told him about the lunch and said that I just wanted to ask the chef to leave the chillies out of my dinner. I told him that I had two bananas for lunch and that I was really hungry!

The safest option for me was another Pizza. I was in such desperate need of fresh vegetables that I ordered the vegetarian option with extra chicken. Although they provided a price for “extra tapping” (Translation were always funny) I could simply not communicate my wish to the chef though. I could see that I was going to end up with a pizza and a chicken, so decided not to bother with the fowl. Our food arrived in record time and was fantastically delicious! The Pizza, a medium order, arrived on the same size plate as the more expensive size I had a few days before. Catt’s vegetable soup was equally scrumptious and we were very impressed!

We were busy trying to decide if we were, once again judging the country and its people too harshly when disaster struck. A none descript woman walked up to us and demanded payment for parking the car on the sidewalk. I was about to ask how much it was when Catt simply told her “NO”. She said that she had asked the manager who told us we could park there and that if there was a fee to be paid, the attendant should ask the manager for it. I was too scared to interfere and the woman was obviously bewildered enough to let us be. We walked up the stairs in silence and went to bed, exhausted from fighting for every little thing we wanted or needed, but with full and happy bellies.

Day 273:
There was simply no rush to leave. In fact there was no rush to get us out of bed as I was quite sure that the shower would not be hot enough to warrant its use anyway. We did not have our own “Buna making” implements with us, so the need for caffeine was the thing that eventually made me get up. I tried the shower and it was better than the day before, but by no means worth the expense! I used it anyway and so did Catt. We met a couple of backpackers from Australia on the stairs and started chatting to them. That lasted long enough for the cleaning staff to carry chairs to where we were standing. I found that almost embarrassing, but accepted the good service with a smile.

Breakfast in the restaurant was pretty fantastic and the absence of chillies was very noticeable. After the hell of the previous day it seemed like the friendly owner did everything he could to make our stay acceptable and it worked. The coffee was great and the staff friendly and when the reception lady had to ask us to vacate the room she started with an apology. It was 10:30 though, and their check out time was 10:00. We were done anyway, so gladly walked upstairs, retrieved our bags and made for the door.

Outside Maggie was waiting patiently and as the engine turned for the very first revolution the parking lady was standing right by Catt’s window in anticipation of getting paid. I pacified Catt in an instant with a “watch this one” and handed after establishing the cost of the parking I handed over a torn, dirty, smelly and smeared 10 Birr note that I knew no one in the country would accept. The parking lady looked at it in disbelief and shook her head in dismay, but I was adamant! For a change there was someone who needed something from me and I was taking revenge on all those who tried to cheat me in the 36 days I had been the country. I told her it was the only money I had and she could take it, or leave it. She took it, reluctantly and I could not care less. Down the road we bought some oranges. I walked straight up to the seller and announced that we would take 2kg at the normal 12 Birr per kg price. Before she knew it she agreed to the price I knew to be right and the deal was made. She looked confused when I left. We invested in some much needed diesel and announced our departure from the town with a cloud of dust in our wake. I wanted to lift my leg and urinate on Debark, but I wished I could squat and coil out a fat turd on the toilet that was Gonder.

We really did not have far to go and we expected that our destination would be nice. It was a camp site on the northern shores of Lake Tana, which you could see from the top of Fasilada’s Palace. It was run by a Dutch couple and was rumoured to be ne of those places our kind (overlanders) congregated. We could not wait! The tar ended by the airport and the compacted dirt road carried us to the village of Gorgora. From there we tried to follow the GPS directions but found the cap site about a kilometre away from the published point. It was however as we had expected!

Kim came out to greet us and told us the fair prices and the lay of the land. We drove into the camp ground and found Michael and Sabine there. We were introduced to Gerhard and Marlous, another Dutch Couple travelling in a 1070’s bright yellow VW bus with their 4 year old Alsatian, Bronco. We met Paul and Natalie from the UK and another German couple in a truck with their two children. Their children were unbelievably loud and unrealistically naughty, but arriving in the midst of like minded people almost felt like holiday to us. We spent the afternoon chatting and getting to know our fellow travellers and when Kim asked about dinner arrangements, we simply fell in with the decision of the group.

The hill top restaurant overlooking the vast lake was fantastic! It was hot enough all year round so that sides were not necessary, giving the place an open, airy and comfortable atmosphere. Kim friend up some rice with vegetables and Billy the Goat as protein. We feasted around a banquet table shared by 12 people and the laughter and joy washed all the negativity of the previous week away. We stayed up late and loved the company and when it was finally time for bed we walked down the hill and climbed the ladder to the roof. It was the first time we had slept in the roof top tent in 13 nights and it was wonderful!

Day 274:
I would have been fantastic to be woken up by bird song, or babbling water or the hot sun on our faces. Instead we were woken up by the multi million decibel noise of a German toddler throwing a tantrum. His parents did not seem to care, nor did they seem to realize that it was disturbing the other campers. I found it hard to like them after that. It was a shade after 7:00 by the time I had enough and had to get up. It wasn’t all bad though, we had a massive mission for the day so needed to get up early anyway.

It had been nine months to the day since we fitted the last bolts and screw to our packing system and after almost 40 000km of bad roads and bumpy tracks we were fairly convinced that some of those bolts had rattled loose. We had decided to empty Maggie of all contents, including slides and racks, clean her out and refit everything. It seemed a mammoth task, but we had a secure place, a nice lawn and a group of people who understood our paid and whose shoulders we could cry on, should the need arise.

The disassembly took two hours and some amount of sweat and buckets of dust! We found that the packing system installed by Frontrunner in South Africa had cracked on a seam and that the bolts they used had ripped through the sheet metal work of the floor. That wasn’t exactly what we had hoped to find, but it was all fixable. I marched up the hill and asked Kim’s advice on welding. She referred me to a member of her staff who had to go into the village around mid day anyway and he promised to “swing on by” when he was leaving. Back at the camp site we used bucket loads of water to wash the dust out of the packing area. We cleaned our crates and even repacked our clothes drawers, finding items of wardrobe we had forgotten we had. Mostly socks, to be fair. By the time we rested and had lunch the man from uptown had collected the two broken parts and promised to have it back by 13:00. I tried to get him to commit to a price, but he just told me not to worry and that he would bring me an invoice. Where had I heard that before? I didn’t have much choice though. It had to be fixed.

As the clock struck 13:00 the man returned with the parts expertly welded and even painted. He handed over an invoice and at first I thought my eyes were deceiving me. I asked him to confirm what was written and he did. It was for 20 Birr ($1.20) I handed over 30 Birr and he handed 10 Birr back. I explained that the extra 10 was for his efforts and it was almost as if he did not want to believe it. I almost had to force him to accept it and right there, in the camp site at Tim and Kim’s the man wiped out all the negative vibes from the previous few days in the town of Gonder. In an instant he restored my trust in people of the land and returned some respect for the inhabitants of the country and he did not even realize it!

Re-assembly took the rest of the afternoon. I could not believe how many things we had managed to fit into one 80 series Land Cruiser, but then again, I did not spot a single thing that we had not used on our trip. Well, there was a shower we had not used, but it took up very little space and I was pretty sure that we would need it in Sudan. By the time everything was clean and back into place we had missed the mid afternoon sun on the water drum feeding the shower. We had missed the shower rush of the other campers and had to walk up the hill to use two solar showers provided by our hosts. The water was not warm, but much needed to get the grime of the day of us and we felt happy and even refreshed after the fact. We invited Paul and Natalie for dinner that night as they had not seen fresh meat in a while. We still had pork roasts from Nairobi and as they were the only other travellers we had seen with a Cobb, they were the ones we decided to share it with.

Our Cobb cooked the meat and their Cobb cooked the vegetables and at the end there was so incredibly much food that we could almost not finish it. We shared some beer and wine and after dinner ventured back up the hill to the restaurant for a nightcap. It seemed that everyone camping there had a ritual of cooking for themselves every second night, but gathering at the watering hole after supper to discuss the day’s events. Gerhard had managed to catch a massive Catfish which he cooked for supper and the rest of the fishing futurity was very jealous indeed. Natalie spoke very highly of our Pork roast and all those who had travelled from the north wanted to know exactly where the butchery in Nairobi was. The night turned into another in pronto party and it was past midnight by the time we returned to the roof top palace. We were slightly tipsy, very relaxed and desperately tired, so sleep was almost instant.

If I had to do it again:
You can’t really travel Ethiopia without seeing the Simien Mountains and the royal enclosure in Gonder. I would however advise anyone going that way to find out exactly how much things cost and where to get them from without getting ripped off. The towns of Debark and Gonder were by far the worst for Farenji prices in the whole country and the attitude of the people in the town really sucked! Then again, as long as tourists are gullible and accept the prices quoted, the problem will not go away.

Tim and Kim’s was one of those places where you simply had to end up. It was fantastic to hang out there for a few days and it is highly recommended!

If there was one thing I should have done it was to keep the spare shock absorber washers when we replaced the rear shocks in Addis Ababa, but at the time I was not really expecting another washer or another bush to go. We checked them all there and they seemed fine. I find is incredible that we have managed to destroy so many of the small parts of the shock absorbers, who would have thunk it?