Addis to Mekele and the Danakil
Brave Elsa, soldiering on through her influenza was there to
pick is up at 5.30am for a dash to the airport and a plane to Mekele. Sadly,
without my glasses I was unable to tell the difference between am and pm on the
alarm setting so we were awoken to say it was time to go…..mad dash, quick
coffee and out the door. Almost back to Bole airport when I had a meltdown –
couldn’t find my passport anywhere. Not back at the guest house, not in the
usual zipped pocket, not in the big bag….nowhere. Hang on, Col has it, safely
stowed in his bag, Phew – disaster averted.
Then we met Tefera – amazingly, he looked just like his
photos, so was quite easy to recognise. The plan was to get the show started
with a bang, not a whimper, and head straight out to the Danakil while we were
fresh and rested – Tefera’s summation of the situation, not mine! But yes, we
should have a coffee first – a real proper Ethiopian buna to get a taste for
this country in which we are guests. No, make that two coffees.
Load up, meet the new guide ’Teach’
and hit the road. Danakil, travel insurance free zone, here we come.
Four years ago, there was a bit of bother in the Danakil and
a couple of tourists were kidnapped – the area is quite close to the Eritrean
border. For this reason, there is a whole lot of new security and people travel
in groups to the area. So we stopped at Abala to meet the rest of our group –
all strapping young lads, four from the Netherlands and one from Germany – not
a female in sight. And yes, just to make things social, more buna.
On
the road again, in convoy now, travelling through some of the most barren,
strangely beautiful landscapes in an area primarily inhabited by the Afar
people. Many of the Afar are still nomadic, and we encounterd quite a few of
their camel trains, moving to and from the salt mines in the Danakil to the
markets in Mekele, an eight day journey, on foot, over rocky passes, in soaring
temperatures – but we learned more about that later.
And then, home for the night at Hamedela. It was hot, bloody
hot, but apparently not too bad in the grand scheme of things. We found beds,
drank lotsa water and waited for the temperature to drop a little. But let me
tell you a little about these beds….with a mattress thrown on the top, they are
amazingly comfortable, though almost impossible for an old ill-coordinated lump
like me to climb out of. The goats wander around freely, scavenging for food
and the donkeys do their very loud hee-haw-y thing. All is under the watchful
eye of the military camp 50 metres away. Sadly, in this community of men and
nomads, there is no toilet – not of any style, nationality or design. One must
just wait till dark and try to find a concealed spot – not an easy task, let me
tell you, made even trickier by a new diet of Ethiopian traditional food!
But enough of the trivialities….time to continue the
adventure. Load up, the young soldier lads with their big guns, the cameras and
music, and off we go to Lake Asala – a huge salt lake one hundred and fifty or
so metres below sea level. Just one word – SURREAL – Reminiscent of Uyuni in
Bolivia but hot, not cold.