We didn’t rush to leave Addi Arkay, mainly because breakfast was delicious, but also because we had to wait ages before the bus to Debark finally arrived. The giant green bus rolled into the station and disgorged its weary passengers so they too could enjoy the breakfast delights of this little village in the middle of nowhere, and urinate in the street. Whilst bladders were emptying we set about securing our bags to the roof and carefully negotiating our way onto the already packed bus. We had to stand for the duration of the four-hour journey to Debark; normally this would have been annoying, but I managed to adopt a pleasantly jaunty angle where I could lean on a chair covered by a convenient pile of blankets, meaning I was actually quite comfortable despite the truly awful song being pumped out of someone’s phone on repeat, and of course the now pre-requisite team of bus vomiters.
The beautiful Simien Mountains were our reason for travelling to Debark...
Arriving in Debark was an anti-climax; if you take away the stunning mountain vistas, then Debark is a soulless town without much going for it. Our only reason for being there at all was to register with the national park office and buy a couple of passes that would allow us in to explore the dramatic Simien mountains, now tantalisingly close.
At 2850m above sea level, Debark’s air is thin, meaning that lugging a rucksack around the few decrepit hotels situated along the single curve of tarmac was much harder than it should have been. At each hotel we were quoted outrageous prices for horrible rooms, it was difficult to negotiate as the owners were confident in their monopoly; Debark is the gateway to the Simien mountains: a unique ecosystem which attracts biologists and ecologists from all over the world, often with accompanying film crews and television scale budgets, meaning the custom of a couple of dusty backpackers was neither required, nor desired.
Taking the weight off and admiring the view...
Eventually we settled on a drab, half-finished hotel, in part because it was the cheapest in town but mainly on account of the affable owner agreeing to give us free coffee for the duration of our stay, a technique I was disappointed more hotel owners hadn’t tried. Accommodation sorted, and the first of many free coffees taken advantage of, we set out to find the national park office. The streets of Debark were surprisingly empty given its proximity to the park, and we almost managed to get to the park offices unhindered, that was until we were approached by an enthusiastic man who introduced himself as Misganaw.
Misganaw was a tall thin man with an awkward smile and a nervous confidence, like a bad actor reading through hastily memorised lines for the very first time. He began his sales patter and explained how he would be able to take us on a bespoke tour of the national park, whilst making it affordable for even the most modest of budgets. We were instantly dubious having listened to similar sales pitches many times before, but listened to what he had to say, hoping that we could enter into a negotiation to make the deal work for us. Feeling he was onto a winner, Misganaw continued and excitedly told us that he already had a tour arranged for the next day with two other faranjis, and was keen to get some more people together to offset the extortionate fixed government rates for car hire; cheaper tour for us, better profit margin for Misganaw, everyone’s a winner, or so it would seem.
An ibex picks its way through the rocky outcrops of the Simien mountains...
Misganaw was nervous and didn’t fill us with confidence, but with very few other options having presented themselves, we agreed to go to the hotel to meet the other guys who were already going on the tour and were surprised to meet Frank: a Maltese/Englishman from Balham, and Anna his Swedish girlfriend. We discussed logistics, and even with us splitting the cost it was still expensive and we spent a long time trying to decide if it was actually worth it. We finally agreed to stump up the cash after some hard negotiation that Sir Alan would’ve been proud of. As well as gaining entry to the park and transport there and back, Misganaw had also promised that we would be able to get a full day tour, and we would be able to get a good few hours hiking in as well as a decent lunch. Hands shaken and plans made, we arranged to meet back at the hotel at 6am the following day to meet the car and get our permits.
Exotic vegetation above 3000m...
Dragging ourselves out into the mountain chill the following morning, we waited expectantly for Misganaw to arrive with our free hotel coffee for company. Eventually our car turned up and we were introduced to our driver and compulsory mountain Scout, dressed in a smart suit jacket and proudly wielding an ancient AK47 which I very much doubted had ever worked. We clambered into the rugged Toyota, and headed for the park gates along the now familiar bumpy, dusty roads. It took an hour or so to reach the park gates, and as soon as we entered the park we weren’t disappointed. Almost immediately we drove past the endemic Gelada baboons, only found in the Ethiopian highlands. These hilariously fluffy species of Old World monkeys were beautiful, but paled in insignificance to the scene which had appeared before us. The views were breath-taking in both literal and metaphorical senses; vast lumps of rock reached upwards into the thin air and stretched far into the distance until they reached the hazy horizon. The foreground dropped away dramatically, almost half a kilometre straight down into the shady lush valley below. The sheer valley sides were scarred and pockmarked by ancient rivers, and millennia of exposure to the elements had left their marks on the pinnacles. This view was to be our constant companion for the rest of the day, and each corner seemed to be more impressive than the previous, as cute as the Geladas were, I could have stared at those views forever.
The majestic Gelada Baboons look out over their mountainous kingdom...
As we drove, our knowledgeable driver gave us a fascinating insight into the history of the park and a lesson on the unique flora and fauna within; Misganew on the other hand seemed distracted and hadn’t said a word all day, preferring to furiously send dozens of messages on his phone. Our slow and steady ascent was signposted by a change in vegetation, morphing from dry and dusty into an almost alien landscape of short, stout trees and acres of dry moss and lichen. The fauna kept up their side of the bargain as well, and as be gained altitude we saw Ibex, Griffin Vultures, and another troop of Geladas photogenically posing for us on a dramatic outcrop picking bugs out of each other’s plentiful coats.
The day before, Misganew had agreed that once we reached Chenek camp - the end of the navigable road, Nick and I would be able to do a few hours hiking. We stepped out of the car, surveyed the local topography and spied a roughly circular route which we both agreed would take a few hours to complete; We grabbed our bags ready for a wander into the unknown, excited to be able to stretch our legs and take in more of the awesome views, and were just about to set off when Misganew caught up with us and in a panic told us that we shouldn’t go too far as we had to start heading back in half an hour.
Adventure planning mode went into overdrive considering all the potential hiking routes through the Simiens...
We were a little confused. We had been promised the opportunity for a solid hike, in fact it was the reason we had agreed to the tour in the first place. We reminded Misganew of our arrangement and he began to get himself tied up in knots trying to talk his way out of it. First, he claimed he had never made such an agreement; this would have held up if we hadn’t written down an itinerary during our discussion the day before which we were able to produce. Not to be outdone by this evidence, he then said that the driver was pressuring him as he needed to get back to Debark; we looked over to the car, and the driver seemed very calm and relaxed, and certainly didn’t seem to be in any sort if rush – we began to get the impression this wasn’t the reason for Misganew’s insistence either. Finally, he came clean and told us the real reason he wanted us to head back to Debark: he had received a message from another larger group of tourists who wanted to hire him as a guide, but would go with someone else if he wasn’t able to pick them up at the time they had requested. Clearly a bit embarrassed by his confession it was hard not to feel for Misganew, he really wanted to make a success of things, but in doing so had found himself in an unwinnable situation. Either way he was now going to have to let someone down, and he had decided that that someone was going to be us.
Our dapper mountain scout putting our trekking outfits to shame!
Refusing to be let down by this dubious business model, Nick and I pointed at the highest accessible point we could see and suggested that we were going to climb to the top as discussed, and we could leave when we returned. At this point Misganew's frustrations spilled over and he became aggressive and argumentative; the whole atmosphere became tense and unpleasant tainting an otherwise angelic location. We walked away from the situation and began to march to the top of the peak we had seen, chests heaving in the thin 3000m+ air. Panting up after us, an exasperated Misganew continued trying to discourage us from our walk by frantically looking at his watch and telling us that it would take too long to get to the top and we might get locked out of the park. We produced the leaflet we had been given at the park gates showing the opening hours - we had another seven hours before it closed, we were probably going to be alright.
Gelada Invasion high up in the Simien Mountains...
Within the hour we had reached the top of the peak and were eating our sandwiches with literally hours to spare. We had lost the scout halfway up the hill after he unsuccessfully demanded another day’s pay from Misgagnew; the walk clearly wasn’t on his agenda either. At the top, a calmer Misganew tried a different approach and struck up a conversation with us about how he would like us to give him a good review on Trip Advisor so he could get some more “Good Earnings”. We had to admire his tenacity, he was desperate for his business to be a success, but didn’t really get the concept of customer service. We tried to be constructive with our feedback explaining how he might want to change his approach in future, and how it might not be the best idea to encourage us to leave him an honest review, but it fell on deaf ears and we walked down the hill back to the car with him genuinely believing that he had done enough to increase his earning potential. The rest of the day wasn’t much better, we were rushed away from the impressively high waterfalls, the driver refused to stop at one of the other camps as he had also only been paid for half the day, and we had to jump from the moving Toyota to get out and to see the hundreds of Geladas chilling out next to the road eating the fragrant herbs they were aggressively digging out of the dry ground. Despite the debacle of the day, it was amazing to sit amongst these incredible creatures and watch them chase each other with the sun setting behind the massive mountains providing an excellent backdrop.
Watching the Geladas was utterly absorbing...
The drive back to Debark was a little frosty, but ultimately the day had been worth it. Back in town Misganew disappeared off almost immediately assumingly to try and find the other group, but we were able to thank the driver and the Scout who had been as inconvenienced by the day’s shenanigans as we had. Ultimately, we decided against leaving a trip advisor review.
The evening was spent watching football in a rowdy bar, followed by more injira and a particularly graphic horror movie before heading back to our hotel to pack. We were surprised to find ourselves locked out when we returned; it was only 10pm, the people in Addi Arkay would definitely still be up, but Debark seemed to lack the same party spirit - even the ever present Misganaw was nowhere to be seen. We attempted to climb our way back in, but decided against a full assault on the back garden on account of an angry sounding dog. We were beginning to prepare ourselves for a night out in the cold, until a kind passer-by used his phone to alert the sleeping guard who opened the door and scowled at us for having interrupted his beauty sleep. So much for a raucous Saturday night out in Debark, we packed our bags for our final Ethiopian bus journey the next day, this time to Gondar, our final stop before crossing the border into Sudan.
Look mum no hands...