The Roof of Africa: The Simiens
Camera and Film
Nikon F3
Kodak Portra 160 x1
Kodak Portra 400 x1
Kodak Ektar 100 x1
Places Visited
Chennek Camp
Lima Limo Lodge
Mount Bwahit
When one thinks of the mountains in Africa, there is one clear candidate that comes to mind: the wise Kilimanjaro, soaring above all else and enriched with well-founded worship. Mount Kilimanjaro is indeed Africa’s peak, figuratively and literally, when it comes to heights.
However, the story of Africa’s "rooftop," the lands close to the heavens, seems to reach into a far older time, in a land more desolate, mysterious, and less trodden than those of Africa’s more famous peaks. At first glance, the Simiens do not look or feel high. They do not tower above their surroundings like their southern counterparts, nor do they have one discernible peak. The Simien Mountains, in northeastern Ethiopia, are the remnants of a large super volcano that erupted millions of years ago, leaving behind a torn and disfigured landscape, scarred by the sheer force of the earth and surrounded by equally tumultuous landscapes, eventually tailing off into the flat wastes of the Danakil Depression by the Red Sea.
The View from Chennek Camp
Kodak Ektar 100
Despite all the geographic destruction that gave birth to it, and the characteristically tough landscape that surrounds it, the highlands of the Simiens are home to the hardy Amhara peoples, descendants of majestic medieval kingdoms, and a host of highly endemic animals that are holding onto the slopes for dear life.
My journey began in Gonder, the capital of the Amhara region. I will save this story for another day, but let us just say that Gonder is a gem on its own. From the airport, I took a two-hour journey up past a small military town called Debark and into the Simiens, where my lodge, Lima Limo, was waiting for me. As far as lodges go in Ethiopia, this is probably as good as it gets. The staff is incredibly friendly and very helpful with planning your itineraries. The food is fresh, while the rooms are spacious and cozy, but the star of the show is definitely the view. I am not exaggerating when I say that in twenty-four years of visiting some of the top lodges on the continent, this was by far the best view of all.
Sitting at around 3200m above sea level, this was also the highest lodge I had ever been to, eclipsing even the Lake Rutundu Cabins on Mount Kenya. And the altitude made its presence felt. While I consider myself quite fit, I certainly had to take it easy on the first hike of the trip, where even the slightest inclines began to affect my senses.
But these hikes were unlike anything I had ever done before. The sheer steepness of the cliff-faces, dropping almost two kilometers below, and the gorgeous rippling hills in the distance sometimes distracted from the perilous danger that these trails posed. Missteps were not allowed. Moreover, the terrain was completely virgin, with very few visitors in the region.
Lima Limo Lodge and Views
Kodak Portra 160
Now is probably a good time to state that going to this part of Ethiopia in the current state of affairs is not a great idea. In fact, the Simien Mountains National Park had only been opened two weeks before I visited. Ethiopia has undergone a few years of a deadly and bloody civil war, where many thousands of soldiers and civilians alike have tragically been killed. Despite the war having ended last year, the situation, which I will not go into depth here, is extremely tense, with several different militias and the army operating in the Amhara region. While I was there, I came across many soldiers, spoke to many who had been injured or displaced, and even saw gunfire. I was safe the entire trip, but there were two moments where I was extremely nervous: the first being when a group of militia men suddenly boarded our pickup truck and the second being the journey back to the airport where we were racing against time before a military demonstration was about to take place.
My Two Guides
Kodak Portra 400
Anyhow, despite the situation in the country, you are probably still waiting for me to say why I even wanted to come here in the first place. Yes, the views are otherworldly, and the hiking challenging enough to keep a fit man happy, but the real prize was the Ethiopian wolf. One of the world’s rarest animals, and certainly the world’s rarest canid, the Ethiopian wolf is an animal that is never found on a safari itinerary. Moreover, only a few can claim to have actually seen one. They are found above 3000m in the Bale and Simien Mountains of Ethiopia and number at around 400 wild members across the two regions. Similarly, the Walia Ibex, the world’s rarest mountain goat, could also be found in the region of 400 members. Unlike the wolves, however, the ibex is strictly limited to the Simiens.
Notwithstanding the extreme environment, the arduous political situation, nor the scarcity of these species, they are usually seen in the Simiens at over 3500m above sea level, and to add to that, almost always at dusk or dawn.
My itinerary simply did not have me at such altitudes during such times of the day, as I had not planned to camp out in the mountains. While I vaguely knew this when planning the trip, it struck me on my first night that I may have come all this way only to be left short of the ultimate goal. The wolves felt out of my reach. It dawned on me that my connection to these creatures may remain in the realm of the mythical.
Anyhow, we had to make the most of the trip, and I certainly had much of the Simiens to explore over the three days. On the second day, I had meticulously mapped out our route in the national park, and since time was against me, I had to hire a car to drive through to Sankaber and Chennek, camps that were located close to the altitudes which we were looking for. The aim was to climb Ethiopia’s second-highest peak, Ras Bwahit, and have a chance of spotting an ibex. The wolves, obviously, were out of the question, since we would only reach near the Bwahit summit after midday.
The Simiens in their Glory
Kodak Ektar 100 and Portra 400
Looking back, I don’t recall feeling nervous, but I certainly should have been. It only hit me after the evening of the climb that Ras Bwahit was 4450m above sea level and that I had never been so high up before. Granted, I did not climb the mountain from the base, but it goes to show that the heights of the Simiens creep up on you.
The drive to Chennek, where we would start the climb, was breathtaking. The dirt track, the highest road in Africa, snaked its way through the rugged Simiens, skating on tabling plateaus and skirting the steep abysses. Overhead, we spotted Lappet-Faced, White-Backed, Rüppel’s Griffon, and Hooded vultures, each of which is listed as endangered. As we grew closer to our destination, the altitude climbed from 3200m to 3700m when finally we made our stop at Chennek. The camp was not much. There were certainly no toilets here. The only structure was a half-beaten shack, with a grinning man making some local injera and wot. I felt hungry, but my guide told me that we had a mountain to climb first. We filled up our water reserves and made our way upwards.
Self Portrait
Kodak Portra 400
As we rose, we spotted a large troop of Gelada Baboons from a distance. There must have been over one hundred, tumbling down the mountain towards the stream below. Looking around, the terrain was dotted with giant lobelias, a type of protea that can soar up to 10ft tall. At 3700m, the temperature was surprisingly warm at 30ºC, and the mountainside was still vegetated with grass. The higher we went, clouds began to grey our surroundings, and the rocky outcrops glistened gunmetal. To add to this almost fantastical shift in weather, temperatures began to plummet quickly, and by the time we surpassed 4000m, I had to put my jacket on.
The Road to Bwahit Pass
Kodak Portra 400
The path levelled off, and the incline began to cease for a short while when suddenly something raced immediately in front of us, darting into the mountainside next to us. My guide whispered level-headedly, “Wolf!”, to which I had no credible response. We crouched low and sprinted off in pursuit, while I fumbled my camera and long lens out of the bag. After a minute or so, I was told to come to a slow halt. My eyes darted everywhere, scanning the mountainside for the orange-furred creature when, not only twenty meters away, I found my target. There it was, the ghost of the mountains. The creature I was not supposed to see.
On foot, the wolf was calm with our presence, knowing perhaps that we were not possessed with the speed nor skill to threaten it. Nor was it really interested in us, compared to the mole rats it seemed to be looking for. For a good ten minutes, I was able to photograph and watch this incredibly nimble and nifty creature go about its business as we followed it higher and higher up the mountain. This was possibly the most thrilling wildlife encounter I had ever had, and I can only think of one or two that may top this. A dream I had had since I was young had been realized, and the experience itself could not have been better: as quickly as this sacred creature came, it went. Off into its misty, mysterious world in these magical mountains.
Despite the fact that my trip had just been made about ten times over, we had to soldier on, for we came to summit a mountain. The wolf was sighted at 4100m, and we had about two hours left of climbing to do before we reached the top. The vegetation began to clear, and the terrain began to look a lot like Mordor. It was funny to me how we were in the midst of an ancient super-volcano with Gondar just two hours away by car, and yet this was a world far more agathokakological than Tolkien ever imagined (yes, I have been itching to use that word for a very long time).
At 4300m, I needed to rest. My senses were giving way to the sweetness of altitude. I felt light, in mind and step. The views around me felt delusional. As I looked to the ridgeline, an almost mythical creature began to emerge. Tales of unicorns, centaurs, and satyrs, which I had always resigned to the mythic books of ancient times, began to appear clearer and clearer.
There, between the frieze of heaven and earth, where the two spheres meet, stood the tall walia ibex, with a set of horns for its crown. While the wolf may be the ghost of the mountains, here we had found its king. Assured and regal, the ibex acknowledged us, giving us its blessing before slowly ambling its way towards more deserving responsibilities.
With this encounter, I found newfound resolve to reach the top of Ras Bwahit, as a worthy champion of the throne. Not so soon after, this became a reality, and we were gifted with views across the disfigured super volcano. Thus ends the first segment of my Ethiopian adventure.