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.