Lake Tana and the Blue Nile Falls
After a night of heavy rain, the day broke overcast but hopeful and so we arranged a boat to tour some of the Lake Tana monestaries. After breakfast, we boarded a covered canoe with an outboard motor and pushed ourselves away from shore. An hour later we made shore on the Zege Penninsula and walked a short way to the Ura Kidane Meret. I was surprised that the monestary was a large tukul with a thatched roof. Beautiful paintings covered the interior walls illustrating the lives of the saints, and our guide walked us around the maqdas, highlighting various stories.
As we walked back towards the boat, local people followed us, offering mini replicas of the traditional tankwas, the boats made of papyrus. The empty stalls that greeted us on our arrival were suddenly full of souvenirs. We walked past without buying anything, deaf to the seller's cries. Soon we were back on the water heading back towards Bahir Dar.
En route, we stopped on a small island to visit Kebran Gabriel, a monestary open to men only. The women remained on the boat, and after we alighted they left to visit a nunnery on a nearby island. We climbed a small hill and found ourselves walking past another large tukul. Our guide lead us through a gate and down to a library where a priest unlocked the door and showed us various crosses and illuminated manuscripts.
Back at the monestary, our guide walked us around the inner sanctuary. Once again, Biblical lives were illuminated on the walls, and after we had made a complete circle around the church, we walked back down to the boat. The women were already waiting. As the boat made its way back towards town the guide had the boatsman take a small detour to the mouth of the Blue Nile.
From Lake Tana, the water flows down through the highlands past a number of gorges en route to the Sudan where the Blue Nile meets with the White Nile to form the Nile itself. Knowing I was to end my trip in Cairo by the banks of that river, I wondered if the water I dragged my hands through would be the same that would pass me in Egypt. Our guide broke through my reverie, telling us that in the morning crocodiles and hippos lay on the banks. The water was quiet as we passed. The sky was full of birds.
That afternoon we debated whether to visit the Blue Nile Falls. The guidebook had warned that they were a shadow of their former selves after a hydroelectric plant had begun diverting water from the river. Recent visitors assured us that the falls were grand. After the rains there was water enough to go around. A couple near us offered to show us pictures from their digital camera. We were sold.
The minibus drove down an unsealed road into the landscape. The skies grew dark and rain began to fall, but had stopped by the time we reached the village of Tis Isat. As we approached the ticket office we were surrounded by guides. We paid our entry fee at a small ticket office and, declining guide offers, drove to the head of the trail leading to the falls.
The walk was plesant, marred by the constant chatter of other would-be guides. One attached himself to each of us and kept up a constant stream of patter, thinking they were being helpful. I told the man beside me I had no money for a guide, but he insisted on accompanying me. I asked him to stop talking so that I coudl enjoy the scenery. He would for a moment and then begin again. I walked faster.
The falls were breathtaking. Grasslands stretched from the mountains up to the edge of the river, and to the edge of the cliff where water no longer flowed. Water thundered down the falls, and a heavy mist rose from where it struck the rocks below. I had never seen a more beautiful or grand waterfall.
A local boy told us we could circumnavigate the falls and offered to lead the way. We had asked about the possibility at the ticket office, but were told that a tributary river was in flood and the path was unpassable. Standing before the falls, we discussed the offer amongst ourselves and decided to follow. The would-be guides discussed it amongst themselves, and one was sent back to tell our driver to pick us up back in the village.
The path continued past the falls, and we were forced to fjord the tributary. The water rushed up around to my knees; the current was strong. From the other side of the river, we walked back towards the falls, and as we stood above them, saw a path leading down to a point directly in front of them. Ed and I walked down. The earth became muddy and soon we were enveloped by the mist. Water surrounded us and clung to our clothes. My glasses dripped with collected mist and I had to wipe my face with my hands to clear them off.
Walking back along the path, we skirted a field of meskel flowers, and then found ourselves on the opposite bank of the Blue Nile. A small boat arrived, and we piled into the ferry along with a group of villagers. We paid our guides and waited. An altercation broke out between two guides; the boatsman waited while they argued. It turned out that one owed the other some money, but an agreement could no be settled upon. We waited. The sun set. Finally a woman took them aside and brokered a truce. Money changed hands, but one boy told the other he would be expecting more tomorrow. The boatsman started the engine and we made the short crossing.
By the time we made it back to our bus, it was dark. An agitated man screamed at us. He asked us where we had gone and what had taken us so long. We made noncommittal sounds. When we closed the door he was still yelling at us. Our driver started the car and began to make his way back towards town. Soon we had left the village and the man behind. The only sound was that of the engine roaring through the darkness. Lighting flashed in the distance.
