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Cape to Cardiff
a travel blog by
MarcusInAfrica
This is the story of one boy's overland journey back to Wales from Cape Town, using only public transport and no areoplanes!
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Mind Over Matter
Moshi
,
Tanzania
Ready for the challenge ahead
When I was younger my Gran lent me a book entitled 'Mind Over Matter', one man's story of his expedition to the South Pole. At the time I thought I understood the full meaning of the book, however, it is only now having conquered Mount Kilimanjaro that I really know the true meaning of mind over matter.
The top of Africa is up there somewhere
It's approaching four o'clock in the morning, I am two hours into my summit attempt, ahead is six kilometres of hard hiking, the temperature is -4, the wind chill factor makes it seem like I am walking around in an industrial freezer, and my body is telling me to seek warmth and escape this insanity. My mind, on the other hand, is completely focused on achieving my goal, to stand on top of Africa. Do I listen to my body or my mind?
Enjoying the view after the pain
The answer is simple, the execution of the answer is not so without a true belief that I can do this. Thankfully, through years of exposure to such positive minded parents, I am able to block out what my body is telling me and go with my mind. With a clear image in my head of me standing at the top of Mount Kilimanjaro I press forward, every step edging me closer to knowing just how it feels to realising my goal.
Sunrise on top of Africa
Suddenly the temperature drops yet further, all feeling in my feet and hands is gone, my breath is freezing my balaclava, my body is slowly shutting down. This is where I finally grasped the true meaning of mind over matter, for it was only mental power that took me through the early hours of that bitter Sunday morning. When you truly believe you can achieve something, then, and only then, can you tune out to what your body is saying and let your mental belief carry you home.
Little White Fluffy Clouds
Do I have the will? That is the question going through my mind, and it's now that I realise I do have the will. There is a burning desire to achieve that fires my will, nothing will stop me from doing this. It may sound odd to some, but it is only when faced with extreme adversity, such as was in front of me on the mountain, that the full power of the mind can be realised.
The Crater a.k.a The Danger Zone
As I neared the summit, still in temperatures more suited to the Antarctic than Africa, my body began to come back to life having been ruled by my mind for the best two hours part of two hours. I had endured and survived conditions I would never normally do so thanks to my mind's ability to control my body, to push it where it didn't think was possible to go. I had achieved my dream, I had conquered Mt Kilimanjaro thanks to an undying belief that anything was possible.
Someone's happy to be at the top
The mind is the most powerful tool available to all of us, yet many don't utilise it to its full potential. Having done just that myself, and knowing how far mental belief will take me I will never again underestimate the ability to put my mind over matter. Doing so makes anything achievable, you just have to have that ultimate belief in what you are striving to succeed.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on August 23, 2009
from
Moshi
,
Tanzania
from the travel blog:
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Malawi Here We Come...Again
Nkhata Bay
,
Malawi
And so the journey begins
As they say every cloud has a silver lining, and despite Matt heading back home Alena had returned back to Africa, much to my delight, and thus we set off from Dar es Salaam headed back to Malawi. Having done this journey before I thought I knew what to expect, but nothing could have prepared me for just how bad it was.
Welcome to a little bit of camping paradise
When you book a seat with a reputable bus company, running from one major city to another, you, hardly surprisingly, expect to get just that - the first rule of travelling in Africa, always expect the unexpected (which you would have thought I would have learnt by now). You can imagine the look of horror on our faces then when, at 4am, we arrived at the bus depot to find a glorified mini-bus waiting for us.
The lake's finest oarsman...or so I'm told
Fourteen long, arduous hours later and we had, finally, arrived at the border crossing where the day went from bad to worse. Rather than taking us all the way to Mzuzu in Malawi we were told, approaching 9.30pm, that this was the end of the line for the day and that a different bus would take us into Malawi in the morning. Smelling a rat we pressed the issue a little, although the arrival of several police officers, including a rather senior official, forced us to accept the situation.
One way on, and one way off
It turned out we were on a bus full of illegal immigrants, and the police had arrived to collect their bribes before taking them over the border under the cover of darkness - for anyone who thought otherwise, corruption is rife in Africa and this such example is just the tip of the iceberg. So that was that, we would have to sleep the night at the border and make alternative travel arrangements in the morning, or risk disturbing the police accepting bribes - rule two in Africa, never interfere with officials and their bribes (that I have learnt, the hard way too).
Welcome to first class on the Llala
Once back in Nkhata Bay the only thing on our minds was a few days relaxing before taking the ferry over to the islands. I must say, despite all its faults the Llala has been, to date, my favourite means of transport on my travels. From climbing aboard when the lower decks are too busy to fight your way through, to the cheapest (edible) food in Malawi, to sleeping under the stars it has spades of character and is an experience to behold.
A bed fit for a king
The highlight of our time on the islands was, without a doubt, the visit to the cathedral on Likomo (although the goat slaughter pushed it all the way, but that's due to the caveman in me). What amazed me was that it is southern Africa's largest cathedral, and yet it is out on this remote island where few get to appreciate its splendour. Sadly we were not there for a service, as with three choirs and a packed congregation it is said to be quite a spectacle.
A spot of fishing out on the lake
In keeping with the African spirit of transport the ferry, reported to have problems with its steering, had been cancelled and thus we were left in a slight predicament. The options were simple, stay on the islands for another week, or find an alternative boat back to mainland. The answer was even simpler, find another boat as staying on the islands may have resulted in insanity - as beautiful as the islands are they are not exactly the heart of adventure and activity in Malawi.
The Llala offloading passengers
And so began the worst journey of my life, one where at least twice I thought I was doomed to become fish food. Our chosen boat, which was our only option, should have carried about twenty passengers but sensing the chance to make some easy money the skipper decided forty-one would be a much better number. All I can say is thank heavens Chizumulu lay in between Likomo, our start point, and mainland, as if not I honestly think the boat would have sunk.
Alena with her new friends at Chizumulu
The swell was such that no sooner had we set off than the boat was swaying from side to side, water coming in occasionally and more than a few shouts and prayers to God and Jesus. When the locals, who are used to the lake, start worrying you know things are bad. Thankfully a two hour stop at Chizumulu allowed the swell to calm somewhat and we were able to continue, for close to six hours, chugging back to Nkhata Bay, which is where this chapter ends. So be sure to join me for the next chapter of adventure from Africa as Alena and myself indulge in some diving and fishing before heading back towards Tanzania.
Inside the Cathedral of St Peter
Welcome to Likoma
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on October 7, 2009
from
Nkhata Bay
,
Malawi
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The Adventure Continues
Chitimba
,
Malawi
You have to love the wet-suit look....
As I mentioned in a previous blog one of the great attractions of Lake Malawi is its diving, and ever since I learnt to dive there I wanted to share the experience with Alena. One refresher course for her later and that dream became reality as we embarked on our first dive together - although the main dive was still to come.
Alena finds her water wings again
Night diving in the lake is, if you think like Alena and myself, one of the best games you can play. For the Dolphin fish come out to eat at night, and are more than grateful for the light of diver's torches to help them hunt - which equates to a simple game, see who can get the most Cichlids eaten in their torch beam. Rather than competing against each other we combined forces and had quite a good haul of four killed in brutal fashion - what better way to enjoy a dive than to play God as you do so.
The view from the bed in the tree
With our diving at an end it was time to make our way north to Tanzania, but not before a stop off at a little known place called Ndokera's - one of the only backpackers owned and run by locals, which made for quite an interesting stay. The star attraction of the place, other than being set on the shores of the lake, is the bed in the tree, which having been told about we simply had to sleep in.
Welcome to the bed in the tree
I have slept in numerous tree houses, but never before just a bed wedged high up a tree with a make-shift ladder to access it. All I can say is if you are ever in Malawi you must make the effort to head there and spend a night in the tree - waking up to sunrise over the lake from the comfort of your bed, completely submerged in nature, is quite an experience.
The purpose of our stay, other than to sleep in a tree, was to head up to the Manchewe Falls at Livingstonia - which is not as easy as it sounds. For starters the only road that goes in that direction is a dirt track, at the best of times, that winds up the escarpment in a similar fashion to the road at Alpe d'Huez. Not only that but no public transport ventures that way, and thus those wanting to do so must rely on hitch-hiking or paying an extortionate amount for a lift with the few people who have private cars in the area.
Breakfast is served fresh and greasy
So, after an early morning breakfast of freshly cooked chips (try finding anything else in Chitimba), we stuck our thumbs out and hoped for the best. Forty-five minutes later, which we were told is a pretty short wait for a ride, we were on our way towards Livingstonia, although had to share the back of the truck with a rather smelly tray of dried fish - but then beggars can't be choosers.
Looking out over the falls
And the journey was worth every second, as the falls really are quite a sight, made all the better for the fact you can take a walk down behind them and sit in a small cave behind the torrents of water cascading down. It seemed the travel Gods were with us as no sooner did we make it back to the road than a car was coming past and we managed to get a lift back down the escarpment.
Cooling down behind the waterfall
From there the journey took us first to the Tanzanian border, and then to a remote little village in the middle of nowhere, to hike up to the Ngosi Crater Lake, thanks to a spot of hitch-hiking. Unfortunately there are no pictures to the next section of the story, as we (read Alena) forgot the camera in the truck we got a lift with, although we thankfully got it back a few days later.
Anyway, the stay in the village was one of the most rewarding night's camping I have had in a long time. With no idea where we would pitch the tent a local villager, Nathaniel, came to our rescue and let us camp next to his house. It was only when the tent was up did we realise we were two metres from his pig sty, and that what seemed like the entire population of the village had come to see what these crazy Mzungus were doing sleeping in a portable house (tent to you and I).
I can't say enough for Nathaniel and his family, who made our stay a wonderful experience, and this has inspired me to start doing a bit more wild camping as I head into areas where accommodation becomes a little more limited. But before then there is a return trip to Zanzibar to come...where things are bound to get a little spicy.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on October 8, 2009
from
Chitimba
,
Malawi
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Feeling The Heat in Zanzibar
Stone Town
,
Tanzania
Suits you Sir!
You may or may not know this, but Zanzibar is famous for its spices, with multiple spice farms occupying vast sections of the interior of the island. Being keen cooks Alena and I signed up for a spice tour and set off for one of the government owned farms - the farms are split between private and government ownership, but all spices have to be exported through the government.
Nutmeg
Despite having used many of the spices we saw on the tour I must admit there were several I was in the dark on as to how and where they were grown. For example cinnamon sticks are simply small branches from the cinnamon tree that have been dried out ready for cooking, and the vanilla vine is actual a parasite that grows on other trees and plants but produces the most amazing smelling black pods.
Vanilla
The tour itself was both interesting and great fun, with an assortment of locals walking with you making all sorts of accessories from the different leaves found on the plants. By the end of it I had an organic tie, bracelet glasses and lipstick, whilst Alena had a shopping basket, glasses, bracelet, ring and frog necklace. As to what we looked like with all these new acquirements I will let the pictures do us justice, or should that be injustice in my case!
Fresh cocoa
Following a delightful home-cooked meal, using the spices of the season, it was back to Stone Town where things got a little hot for me. I realise I have done some weird and interesting, even slightly stupid, things on my travels to date, but in hindsight this was the most stupid thing I have done.
Alena goes all green
The two most expensive spices to buy in Zanzibar are vanilla and saffron, the latter which Alena wanted to take back for her Mum. With the haggling not really getting us a good price I jokingly offered to eat ten of the hottest chillies the spice merchant had in return for the biggest bag of saffron he had. If I am being honest I was not expecting him to accept my wager, which is why I had made it in the first.
Alas before I knew it he was counting out the chillies with a huge smile on his face - he may not have been getting any money but he would have plenty of laughter and a story to tell for days to come. And so, with a small crowd of fellow spice merchants gathered around, I was handed the chillies and suddenly realised there was no option but to do this. Thoughts of an episode of the Simpsons came to mind where Homer drinks candle wax before eating chillies to line his stomach - sadly that was not an option for me.
Ten of Zanzibar's finest chillies, and all for me!
There's no turning back now
Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't have done this
Am sure my Mum always told me to eat with my mouth closed
Feel the pain, love the pain!
Keycha Mzungu and his prize
And so in the chillies went, and I slowly began to chew them. At first I felt nothing, no heat, no pain, just the chillies crunching. A good tip for anyone stupid enough to repeat my act, do not gloat by sticking your tongue out with the chewed up chillies on claiming they are not hot. No sooner had I done this than the heat kicked in, not gradually but instantly. My mouth went from cold to raging hot in a split second leaving me with only one option - swallow and get water fast.
Down they went, out came my tongue to prove as much, and in went the water as Alena happily collected the prize on my behalf. The water did little but to increase the intensity of the heat and it was all I could do to keep moving to try and take my mind off the pain - all the while Alena and the spice merchants were finding the whole episode quite entertaining. Next came the tears, which I had no control over, and at this stage two litres of water had gone down my throat.
My saving grace was bananas, which slowly but surely reduced the heat, allowing me to return my mouth to normal with another bottle of water. Aside from a bag of saffron and major pain in my mouth, not to mention stomach on the following day, my act had earned me the title of 'Keycha Mzungu', which literally translates as 'Crazy White Man'. And so my love for spicy food has faded somewhat of late, and the mere thought of eating those chillies is enough to turn my stomach.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on October 9, 2009
from
Stone Town
,
Tanzania
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A Step Back in Time
Lamu
,
Kenya
The ride over to Lamu
In today's materialistic and technologically driven world it is difficult to imagine a society where life is not concerned with such frivolous matters, and is a throw back to a time all but lost. But nowhere in the world have I found such an uncomplicated, yet culturally rich place as Lamu - the small world heritage island just off the coast of Kenya that is, for those after the unpretentious life, a little corner of paradise.
I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts
Walking down the quaint streets, there are only two of them, one can't hear the rumble of engines or honking of horns but rather the clip-clop of hooves - that's because here there are no vehicles, just donkeys and the odd bicycle. It takes a little getting used to at first, especially having come from the chaotic Mombasa where the streets are a jam of assorted vehicles, but once adjusted it is impossible not to love Lamu and it's way of life.
Lamu town square - where it all happens
It has spades of character, and around every corner lies a new discovery - be it a one of the countless yet equally intriguing Swahili buildings, a gathering of locals engrossed in a political debate, or just a couple of donkeys meandering along - it's impossible not to be drawn in to the uniqueness way of life in Lamu. Maybe it's my desire to live in a more simplistic world, or just the magic of Lamu itself, but either way it makes it into my top three destinations in Africa thus far.
Give us a kiss sexy!
When I set off on this trip it was to experience as many different cultures as possible, no matter what they entailed. So, having ridden cows, horses and elephants in my time, I thought it only right I should take a donkey for a jaunt around the streets, which was an interesting experience to say the least. Aside from being the most uncomfortable animal I have ever ridden it provided the locals with plenty of entertainment. Apparently, according to several locals, long hair, a beard and the riding of a donkey gives one a liking to a certain Biblical character.
The second coming of the chosen one.....or not!
Sadly I was unable to turn water into wine, or feed the masses with just a few loafs and some fish and was thus cast aside as a scruffy traveller in need of a hair-cut. For those who are in agreement let me just say if you saw the hair dressers here you would also be keen to avoid having a trim, unless you are a fan of the not so appealing army cut that is.
Even donkeys need love
Donkey Cam
Rather than wax lyrical about this amazing place I will leave it to the more adventerous among you to go and disocver its delights for yourself.
Presenting the Lamu ambulance
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on November 5, 2009
from
Lamu
,
Kenya
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A Whistle Stop Tour in Kenya
Naivasha
,
Kenya
On the shores of Lake Naivasha
With time ticking by in Kenya it was nearly time to make the long arduous trek to the Ethiopian border, but first I set off on a whistle stop tour of some of the countries lesser known attractions - including Lake Naivasha, Hell's Gate National Park, Lake Elementeita and Nanyuki to witness the Corrolis effect first-hand.
What are you looking at?
The first stop saw me set up camp on the shores of Lake Naivasha, where hippos roam free and flamingos shade the water a beautiful pink. It was from here that I made my mission into Hell's Gate National Park, which is famous for being the only park in Kenya where one can walk and cycle among the animals - thankfully lions and cheetahs have not been spotted here for some time.
Black with white stripes, or white with black stripes
That said I was more than a little worried when, having cycled into the park twenty minutes earlier, two young buffalos decided to stare me down before turning and ambling off. After that little episode the rest of the day was truly magical. Being on bike and foot gives the feeling of actually being among the animals, rather than just observing them, and riding among a family of giraffe will live long in my memory.
Wading down the gorge
Up close with the senior giraffe
So 56km of cycling, 10km of hiking, 14 giraffes, two buffalo, countless zebra, impala, warthog and baboons, one sandstone gorge and a Masi village later I had done Hell's Gate National Park. I had just enough energy to cycle back to camp before collapsing in a heap with a well deserved beer by my campfire, thoroughly exhausted but more than content with my efforts.
Hell's Gate done
The end of another day in Africa
From there it was on to Lake Elementeita, one of the Rift Valley's lesser visited lakes, to see more flamingos than one would care to shake a stick at. Waking up to a lake tinged with pink is not the worst start to a day one could have, made even better for the free breakfast I received courtesy of Josephat the chef. That was the fuel I needed for a busy day, which saw me rack up over 350km on mini-buses, including the highest town in Kenya, Nyharuru - home to Thompson's Falls and the Kikuyu tribe.
Camping in solitutde
There was barely time to take it all in before jumping on the last mini-bus to Nanyuki where the River Camel Camp awaited me - and what a magnificent place it was. Run by an Chris, an old Welshman from Usk (all of ten miles from Mum and Dad's house), who has lived in Africa for 47 years it was one of the best places I have stayed thus far - not least because I got to eat camel, which was delicious, and drink camel's milk, which was not so delicious.
One hump or two...sadly for me, one with lots of pain
It was here that I was able to add camel to the list of animals I have ridden, which also includes cows, donkeys, elephants and horses, and it's safe to say it was the most uncomfortable animal I have ever ridden - let's just say it's better to be female when it comes to riding a camel. Keeping with the flavour of the week, packing in as much as possible, it was off to the equator.
Traditional Kikuyu tribe members
It is widely known that water drains in a different direction in the Northern and Southern hemispheres - anti-clockwise and clockwise- but until you see it in action it is difficult to believe. The theory behind it is known as the Corrolis effect - and you only have to move ten metres either side of the equator to see the change in direction as the water drains. Strangest of all is that on the equator itself the water doesn't flow in any direction, rather it drains in a straight line. Strange but true.
Heading into the Northern hemisphere
With my Ethiopian visa waiting for me back in Nairobi it was time to bring my week to an end and turn my attention to the long, bandit-ridden, road ahead. I can't say that the prospect of 600km of dirt track, with the very real danger of bandits, is the most appealing but if I am to stick to my goal of no airplanes that is the challenge I must overcome.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on November 6, 2009
from
Naivasha
,
Kenya
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The Bandit Run
Moyale
,
Kenya
What's that coming over the hill...is it a Kenyan, is it a Kenyaaaaaan
When you know the town you are heading to has had its problems with bandits the last thing you want to hear upon arrival is that they have struck in the past few hours. Worse still that angry residents have taken to the streets in protests leading to full scale riots culminating in the local marketplace being set on fire.
Unfortunately for me that is exactly what greeted me upon arrival in Isiolo, leaving me questioning the next stage of my journey north. My anxiety and obvious concern was not helped when the news came on to reveal the full extent of the massacre - six dead including two police officers. Worse still was the headline adorning the front page of the paper the following morning - 'Residents Flee as Bandits Kill Six in Isiolo'.
Latif himself
I was left with two options; return to Nairobi and take a flight to Addis Ababa (clearly the most sensible option), or take a private truck, along with fifteen other people, and hope for the best. Now I have never been the most sensible person, but I must admit this situation did see my degree of sensibility increase, although not enough to break the rules of my trip.
And thus, along with my Spanish travel companion Roberto, we took the decision to head north to Ethiopia by land and risk a bandit attack in our quest to reach the border - a mere 600km away. I should probably add that the safest time to travel is instantly after an incident like this, as security is dramatically increased, but be that as it may there was still a chance we could fall victim of an attack.
Latif's truck that saved us from the bandits
Knowing disaster could strike doesn't allow for the most peaceful night's sleep, in fact it rendered sleep almost impossible due to worry, and so the following morning I was more than grateful of several strong coffees before we prepared for the off. The presence of solders on the streets eased my concerns somewhat, but also served as a reminder that this was not exactly the area you would want to remain in for long.
As we rolled onto the dusty track that would eventually take us to Ethiopia my heart was racing, my only thoughts seemed to centre around being ambushed by bandits and left for dead in the middle of the desert. An hour in and Latif brought the vehicle to a halt, and, with a wry grin on his face, informed us that no matter what for the next hour there would be no stopping. We were now in bandit territory.
A member of the Samburu tribe
My nerves, already on edge, were eating away at my insides, and once again I was convinced that this would only end in disaster. Every time we slowed down even slightly I was paranoid bandits had stepped into the road and were forcing us to stop, where as it was usually to just avoid a nasty pothole. The minutes seemed to be going by at an alarmingly slow rate, and then it happened.
Looking down the dry river bed as we crossed it, four bandits, all armed with AK47s, were casually strolling along. In my head I played out what would happen next; the bandits had seen us, taken aim and killed our driver, taking the rest of us hostage, or worse yet just killing us all before fleeing with the truck and our bags. As this thought passed I suddenly realised we were past the river and still racing along the bumpy road, nobody was dead, least of all myself, and the danger had passed.
The long road to Ethiopia
Once through the bandit zone we pulled over, and immediately Latif jumped out and approached me with a big grin on his face, asking if I had seen the bandits. I let him know I had, but didn't let on to how worried I had been that we were all doomed. From there the remainder of the journey was as pleasurable as 500km of dirt track in the sweltering African heat can be.
Finally in Moyale, the less than charming town that straddles the Kenya-Ethiopia border, my body was greatly relieved to be out of the truck and the constant rattle of driving. More than that my mind could rest easy, other than the prospect of sharing my room with an army of cockroaches and another 600km on the road in the morning. Still I had survived the notorious bandit run and was ready to take on Ethiopia.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on December 1, 2009
from
Moyale
,
Kenya
from the travel blog:
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One Man and his Horse
Dodola
,
Ethiopia
One way into the mountains
With Ethiopia offering a seemingly endless list of star attractions and activities I was keen to make the most of my time here, and get the most out of a country I had only heard positive things about. So, with that in mind, I wasted little time in heading to the Bale Mountains where a four day horse trek lay in store.
Getting to know my horse a little better
I wasn't sure what to expect, given that my last foray into the mountains had been up Mount Kilimanjaro, and was blown away by the natural beauty and way of life found in the mountains. Further to that it was something of a luxury to have the horse do all the leg work whilst I sat back and submerged myself in the surroundings - which would not have been out of place in Europe. Although my legs got to relax my bum was not so fortunate - lets just say the saddle was not exactly going to win any prizes for comfort over the four day trek.
Myself and Roberto ready for a long ride
The rolling hills we traversed on the first day reminded me of childhood hikes in the Peak District, and you frequently had to remind yourself this was Africa such was the Britishness of the scenerary. In the distance faint singing could be heard, and as we neared our camp for the first night the melodic singing grew louder and provided a perfect backdrop to a glorious picture.
As we ventured further into the mountains I began to imagine this is what it must have been like to be in a fairytale. The rolling green hills meshing their various fields of wheat, barely and grass together in a patchwork quilt as cactus hedged paths picked their way towards the foot of the more serious mountains. And all this as the sun, a rich toffee colour, bathed the hills in the most magnificent light to the accompaniment of young girls singing to their animals.
One man and his book
Over the past eight months I have experienced a wide range of emotions and feelings, each individually evoked by a different and unique part of Africa, yet never before had I felt such a oneness with the environment I was in. As my noble steed soldered on - looking at the size of the locals I am sure my horse had never had to carry someone of my size before - I allowed myself to soak in the atmosphere.
Me and Ritar with our kita
Each night accommodation was in the shape of local huts, run by local mountain people themselves, and proved to be highly rewarding. On the last night I found myself learning to make local bread, known as Kita, with Ritar and her children, and in doing so became the first ever 'forangi' (local term for white person) to cook in her house - an honour I was quite proud of.
Marcus Aurelius - leader of the Ethiopian armies!
As pleasurable as it was having the horse do all the work by the fourth day I was reduced to walking, such was the soreness of bouncing in the saddle constantly. The added bonus of this was it gave my horse enough time to recover for one last hurrah before we finished. As the fields opened up before us it was time for the horses to stretch their legs and show us what they could really do - I have never ridden a horse flat-out before and must say it was an exhilarating experience.
Football on top of a mountain
Thankful for a magical four days in the mountains, and to be out of the saddle for good, I was ready to head north to Addis Ababa and prepare to delve further into the fabric of this country and find out what really makes it tick.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on December 2, 2009
from
Dodola
,
Ethiopia
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Hyenas, Religion and a Castle
Gonder
,
Ethiopia
Too close for comfort
There is, as far as I am aware, no other place in the world other than Ethiopia where you can feed a hyena from your mouth, sail to twelfth century monasteries and then take a trip back to medieval times. This country really is amazing, and the best, so I am told, is yet to come.
The hyena, the animal everyone loves to hate, the scruffy scavenger that has an air of evil to it that would se it welcome at the gates of hell day or night. Why then would anybody want to have one within six inches of your face eating the raw meat that hangs on a stick in your mouth? I would like to be able to answer that question for you, but I can't.
The Mighty St.George
All I can say is I think we all have a desire to get as close to nature as possible, and the added thrill of being so close to an animal that has the most powerful bite of the cat family in Africa is too much to turn down. And that is, in a nutshell, how one night in Harar I found myself face-to-face with a foul-breathed wild hyena. I think it's safe to say that, without getting attacked, I will never come closer to a wild animal for as long as I live.
Religion in pictures
Something I am coming to learn is that Ethiopia is a country of contrasts, and my next two destinations, Lake Tana and Gonder, were further evidence of this. At first glance Lake Tana is just another beautiful Rift Valley lake, but take a closer look and you will find a different world, a world of ancient monasteries dating as far back as the 14th-century.
Each monastery has its own unique history, with one said to have housed the Ark of the Covenant for over 800 years - but I will let you make your own conclusions on that front. More than anything it is the paintings that make the monasteries what they are, each telling different passages of the bible through pictures - this was done so that even the illiterate could devote themselves to religion.
Whilst most were pretty self-explanatory a few of the paintings were open to interpretation, for example a man fellating a donkey could be taken in entirely the wrong way if the priest didn't explain it was symbolic of taking the milk of an ass. In all of the paintings though the believers would always be depicted with a full face and both eyes showing, yet non-believers only had one eye and half of their face showing.
Welcome to my new home!
Feeling as if one more monastery would send me over the edge, five was more than enough, it was off to Gonder and a day of pure fantasy. It may be the little boy in me, or just the strange desire to have been a medieval king, but exploring the castles in Gonder was fascinating. The entire time I was picturing what it would have been like to have lived in such a grand place, lord of the land in a time where you were everything or nothing.
The best place for me I think
When it was Emperor Fasiladas' home (1632-67) it was a castle of contrasts, of unimaginable brutality, and yet at the same time equally unimaginable wealth. And now in present day standing in the banquet hall, a room that I was told would have seated over two hundred people for a grand feast, I closed my eyes and envisioned a party of medieval gentry swilling ale from big tankards as they ripped chunks of meat from various bones.
A castle fit for a king
Sadly there was no such feast for me, so it was off for a coffee ceremony whilst I planned the next stage of my trip - the Danakil Depression, a place I had been told was unlike anywhere else on our planet.
Leach the Great Archer
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on December 2, 2009
from
Gonder
,
Ethiopia
from the travel blog:
Cape to Cardiff
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Welcome to the Danakil Depression
Dalol
,
Ethiopia
Imagine, if you can, a place where planet earth as we know it morphs into a landscape that would not be out of place on Mars of Saturn. Where the temperatures soar over 40degrees on a daily basis, where only the boldest of travellers dare go. A place where one of the world's most hostile races of people exists, as that is all one can do here, just exist, in the middle of it all.
Can anybody spot the road?
To give you an idea of Afari people's hostility until roughly forty years ago they would greet every male visitor to their region by cutting their testicles off. Before we go any further allow me to reassure you that the same fate did not befall Richard and myself. You may be questioning why anybody would actually want to visit the Afar region in the first place, especially given this, one of their proverbs:
'It is better to die than to live without killing' (Afar proverb)
Well, the answer is simple (at least for me anyway). Over the past eight months I have seen Africa in all its beauty, and feel very privileged to have done so. It's not that I have become bored of the Dark Continents many delights, rather I wanted to go somewhere completely different, a place that is well off the beaten track and an ultimate test of ones self in terms of travelling.
Our humble home for two nights
Given my criteria there were not many places to choose from, in fact only one place in the entire continent would satisfy all my needs, the Danakil Depression. Lying 116m BELOW sea-level it is undoubtedly the single most amazing place I have ever been, and in all honesty am ever likely to go, such is its complete uniqueness. It took an entire day of driving through the mountains and a dried up river to reach our destination, Hamed-Ela, the tiny little village that is home to the Afar people.
Taking a break from the real world!
When I say village I mean a collection of wooden shacks, a more basic form of accommodation I have not seen in Africa, this was poverty like I had never seen before. Yet somehow these people existed, day-by-day they survived conditions that had me begging for mercy two days in. The heat doesn't just force you into the shade, it saps the life out of you, leaving you to live in a near zombie state from the moment you wake until you fall into a fitful sleep at night.
Sulphur spewing mini volcano
But we all accepted these conditions as happily as we could, knowing on the second day we would see a different side to Africa. The drive across the vast salt pan at 8am took us towards Eritrea, and already the temperature had edged over 35degrees, until eventually a hill of volcanic rocks grew in the distance. it was here we had to brave the sun, already scorching everything in sight, and set off on foot.
Rich loving the heat
Never has a simple walk been so hard, I am not exaggerating this but the heat was almost unbearable, the air as dry as the desert as it dries your eyes and mouth almost instantly. The only conditions I can liken it to are those you experience in a hot sauna, so you can imagine how much worse it is walking for ninety minutes in such conditions. Once over the cusp of the hill my mind, eyes and ears were hit with a scene they could not comprehend at first.
Suddenly the earth was rumbling beneath us, sulphur gases were filling my nose with a disgusting stench, and my eyes were dazzled by a multitude of brilliant yellows, greens, reds and white. The volcanic rock had given way to endless stretches where the earth's crust had been pulled so thin it no longer existed. In its place were sulphur pools, brilliant white mini volcanoes spouting hot acid into the air, and giant circles of crystallised rock scattered as far as the eye could see.
It was as if we had stepped through a portal that lead out onto the face of a different planet, nowhere in the world have I ever witnessed anything like this before. The heat now came at you from two directions, overhead in the form of the angry sun, and below from the earth's surface that was boiling away, and but for my mind being totally over-awed by what it was witnessing I would not have been able to cope in such intense heat. The colours were dazzling, quite unlike any I had seen in nature before, and so brilliantly pure.
As the sun's heat rose yet further Mekele, our guide, warned us we had to return to the vehicle before it became too hot - quite what he meant by 'too hot' when I am saturated through with sweat I am not sure, but clearly he knew we might not survive much longer in the current heat. As you walk away from the sulphur pools the air you breath starts to burn your throat less, and finally gradually the heat from the ground eases.
Sat back in the car I was lost for words, I had just been to a place so weird and wonderful that my mind could not process everything at once. A feeling of excitement that only such an experience can bring about filled my body as I realised not only had I been to Africa's highest point, Mount Kilimanjaro, but now I had been to its lowest point. All that is left to do is reach Cairo and I will have also been from one end of the continent to the other.
I wanted a test, I wanted a unique experience, and I wanted to see something that would blow my mind. I got it all, the Danakil Depression was everything I had hoped for and more, as well as being the hardest three days of travel I have ever endured. The guidebook was not wrong when it said this is only for the most adventurous of travellers, but I came through it and will never forget the day I stood on a different planet at the bottom of Africa.
Finally, there is a reason why the Afar people live where they do, but to find out why anyone would live in the Danakil Depression you will have to wait for the next blog.
written by
MarcusInAfrica
on December 3, 2009
from
Dalol
,
Ethiopia
from the travel blog:
Cape to Cardiff
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