Chenek (Simien Mountains National Park day three)
I woke up before dawn. Crawling out of the tent, I caught the sun breaking over the mountains. We ate and packed quickly to beat the fog, and soon found ourselves breaking camp. Our destination was Chenek by way of the viewpoint Imet Gogo.
The night before, an Isreali family had arrived at the camp. Throughout the night, their son could be heard retching from acute altitude sickness. In the morning, however, they looked to be in high spirits. We set off as they emerged from their tents and attended to their morning toilet.
We reached Imet Gogo in two hours. The views from the 3926 meter peak were fantastic, and finally we had a sense of the beauty of the Simien Mountains. The drops around us were sheer, and jagged peaks reached up towards the sky from the valley floor. When we arrived, the fog had just begun to form, and after 30 minutes on the peak, the views were once again obscured. Turning around, we walked back to the main route, where we crossed paths with the Isreali family. Their son sat upon a mule and they were making slow progress. We debating telling them to hurry.
We descended into the valley walking along the escarpment. Clounds had rolled in, obscuring the sun. As we climbed back up towards the ridge, hail began to fall. I lamented the fact to Ed, and told him that it seemed to hail every time we went on a trek together. He hadn't remembered that it had hailed when we hiked the Kackar Mountains in eastern Turkey.
We rounded the ridge and began a shallow descent through the grasslands towards a small river. There, we ate a quick lunch. It had been raining off and on, and the wind had picked up. We were exposed and cold. Our hike lead us back uphill towards a high plateau. As we approached, our guide told us that that was Innatiye. She said the name was derived from the exhausted cry that people made when they reached the top. She said she was going to rest and told us to follow our scout up the path.
From the plateau we looked back over the grasslands from which we had come. A few shephards had followed us up, and one pulled out a recorder that he played a repeated figure on. The day was still overcast, but the rains had let up. We looked down and saw Ababa slowly making her way up to join us, and we shouted words of encouragement.
At the top she looked around us and at the children who had joined us. "I know this one," she said, pointing to the youngest. She spoke to him in Amharic and told us that he knew a shortcut to Chenek. I asked how far it was. She said it was still far.
The boy lead us to the edge of the escarpment and we found ourselves walking a steep path down along its edge. To our left, the cliffs dropped straight down to the valley floor. To our right, a steep slope fell off from the narrow path towards the dirt road leading to camp. Knowing my fear of heights, Ed asked me how I was doing. I told him I was staring at my feet, concentrating on putting one in front of the other.
As we neared Chenek we were awarded with a glorious view from the escarpment edge. The landscape looked as though Monument Valley were rising from a verdant Grand Canyon. We paused at korbete Metia, where regional officials had once been executed and stared out over the valleys to the far mountains. Small villages sat atop rolling hills. Chenek camp was in view, and I was exhausted. We had been walking for more than 8 hours.
When we reached camp, Ababa told us that our cook had seen some rare endangered Walia ibex nearby. I hadn't expected to see any and was surprised they could be so close. She told us to follow Windeflow. He left the kitchen hut and walked uphill away from the camp. I hauled myself up and followed with my cup of coffee in hand.
A few meters away, he stopped and pointed to a copse of lobellia plants. There, two ibex were feeding off of the leaves. Their long horns arced back from their heads seemingly to their tails. They ate their dinner undisturbed, and I tried to take pictures, lamenting the fact that I had no long lenses for my camera. The ibex ate calmly, moving back up the mountain as they became sated. A chittering to our left distracted me. We walked over to find a family of Gelada baboons foraging for food.
We were entranced by their actions. Vegetarians all, they dug grass from the earth and ate the roots. A few younger baboons tussled with each other. We followed them as they wandered back towards the escarpment edge, and I took photos of them with the landscape in the background. Ed and I were both laughing at ourselves for taking so many pictures of the baboons, but we found them endlessly fascinating. As the sun began to set, they disappeared over the escarpment edge. We stayed to watch the light leech from the sky.
Benches had been set up along the escarpment at various viewpoints. One sat upon a small mound near some huts originally erected as tourist housing, but which had since been host to a number of Ethiopian squatters. I decided that if I managed to get up early enough, I would climb the hill to see the sunrise. As we watched the landscape fade with the disappearing light, the sun set on the third day of our trek. I shivered, and walked back towards camp and our evening meal.
