. . . and back again
A message was awaiting Ababa when we arrived at Sankabar. Her daughters had both passed their matriculation exams and could go on to college. Our entire party was in good spirits. It was the last night of our trek, and the following evening our guide, cook, and scout would be at home. I was looking forward to a hot shower and clean bedsheets. The clouds had cleared once and for all and a rainbow stretched over the valley behind us. Ed and I played Scrabble, and I managed to eek out a loss, even after having managed a bingo with the word "sinners." I had watched the sun rise that morning at Chenek, and that night I would see the sun set. It was the first time in a long time I could remember seeing the sun rise and set on the same day.
But there was still one day to go.
We had left Chenek early in the morning and walked along the road back to Sankabar. The day before, Ed had taken the time to climb Mt. Bwahit, but my knees had been bothering me from the hike the day before and I chose to rest. I wrote letters, updated my journal, and spent hours watching the Gelada baboons as they foraged for food and scratched their butts. I kept looking for the markings on the chests of the males, said to look like open hearts. At one point I got too close,. A baby cried out and climbed onto the back of its mother bringing the dominant male baboon racing back to the flock. I beat a quick retreat.
The road to Sankabar wound its way past fields and grasslands. We passed farmers plowing their fields and shephards driving their animals to pasture. Ed remarked that the landscape at times reminded him of Mongolia. As we descended into a valley, Ababa told us to look to our right and we saw the Jinbar Wenz waterfall, which had been obscured by cloud on the first day of our trek. From the road we could hear the water dropping from a small pool to the valley below. She also pointed out the promontory on which we had stood, a small patch of earth raised up from the valley. Sharp drops fell from the edges of the peak. I was glad then that clouds had obscured our views from the top.
We ate our lunch in a small field at the bottom of a small valley. Goats grazed around us. As I ate, they came closer. I could their teeth ripping clover from the earth. Before I knew it they were all over me, and a shephard boy had to call them back. I joked to Ed that I must be sitting on a patch of prime clover. He laughed and said he had a funny picture of my attackers and me.
Our night at Sankabar was clear. Moonlight filled the camp. The temperature had felt significantly warmer when we arrived (Sankabar rests at an elevation of 3200 meters) but once the wind kicked up after nightfall, we were once again cold. We bought a pile of firewood and huddled in the kitchen hut for warmth.
The next morning we paid our mulemen and packed our bags for the last time. Ababa told us that Gilbrait would arrange transport on a truck heading back to town. Our packs would be waiting for us back at the hotel. We asked him to book the room at the Simien Park Hotel with the en suite shower, and he said he'd try.
We began walking back along the road, then veered off of it to walk along the escarpment. The views were beautiful, though nothing matched the grandeur of Chenek. As we began to wind our way down, Ababa told us she wanted to show us the hotel at Buyit Ras. We soon were climbing almost straight up the mountain on a wide detour to view the hotel. It wasn't quite finished, but the interior was beautiful. The rooms were set away from the restaurant and reception. Built like traditional tukuls, they were clustered up on the hill. We ate our lunch just outside the dining room looking out over the nearby fields.
The manager had come from Addis Ababa just that week. It was his first time in the Simien Mountains, and as yet he had gone no further than that point. He said it was a shame, but he had visited very little of the country, and he was to return to Addis the next week. He said he looked forward to spending more time at the park in the future. He was curious to see the landscape at Chenek.
When we left, he gave us bottles of water and wished us well. We walked by small rivers and past fields of beans. Ababa grabbed a few stalks and offered them to us. We snacked on the beans, tossing the stalks back into the fields as we finished.
We climbed out of one valley and descended into another. Every time we rounded a bend, I hoped to catch sight of Debark, but the path seemed to continue endlessly. At one point we passed by huts along a road that felt very much as if we were in the suburbs of Debark, but still we had to press on.
Eventually we came upon the main road. Ababa stopped and crossed herself, then bowed. She said there was a church up the road, and that we were on the outskirts of town. We walked along the road and soon we could see rows of houses marking the easternmost edge of Debark.
The hotel appeared glorious. When we first had arrived I was somewhat disappointed, but now it couldn't have been better. We bought drinks for our crew and then said our goodbyes. Ababa invited us to her house for coffee and we accepted. She warned us that her house was far. I took some Ibuprofin for my knees and we followed her to the opposite edge of town. Her house literally marked the boundary of Debark. Past her house there were fields. The sun had begun to set and the landscape was gorgeous.
Ababa introduced us to her daughters and her son. one of her daughters set about making coffee; the other set out injera and fasting food. We snacked as the armona of the coffee filled the air. We asked Ababa why she decided to become a guide. She said she liked the outdoors and meeting foreigners. She also wanted to keep improving her English. Unfortuantely, her knees were bad, and she generally only led shorter treks.
She then told the story of one British traveller she had guided. He had originally planned a three or four day trek from Debark to Gich and back. On the first day they walked from Debark to Sankabar along the route we had just walked. It had taken us 9 hours, and after they had reached Sankabar the traveller called it quits. He didn't think he could go on.
After two cups of coffee we bid our farewells. We wanted to give Ababa time with her children after the week away and so declined the traditional third brewing. Outside, the moon had risen and lightly illuminated the roads. Ababa insisted on walking us back to the hotel. She was worried we would lose her way. We assured her we knew how to get back, but then she said she she worried about vagabonds. She insisted on walking us part of the way.
She asked us what time our bus was in the morning and we told her. She asked if we had sent someone to Gondar to buy us tickets an we assured her we had (buses from Debark to Shire and Axum originate in Gondar, and it is often hard to find seats on the bus in Debark. Travellers have the option of returning to Gondar and buying tickets there, or paying a local to go to Gondar to secure tickets; we opted for the latter).
At an intersection, we stood in a small circle of light cast by a lonely streetlight. We pointed towards the main road a few hundred meters away and told her we would be fine. We thanked her for guiding us through the mountains and also for her hospitality. We exchanged addresses and promised to send pictures. Ed said if he wrote a story he'd send her clippings. She thanked him and turned to walk home with her son, disappearing as she stepped out of the light.
