Northern Ethiopia Part 3: Debre Damo - a real adventure

In Axum, we teamed up with a sister/brother duo, originally from Melbourne, from our hotel to hire a 4WD for a trip to Yeha (800BC ruins) and the awesome Debre Dama Monastry. Jo, a schoolteacher now resident in London, and Steve, the Northern Territory Crown Prosecutor in Darwin. Nice people with one social flaw: Essendon supporters.

Debre Damo is only about one kilometre from the Eritrean border. Eritreans used bomb Ethiopian towns in this district. The cease fire was only signed December 2000. Consequently, a common sight are the white 4WDs flying light blue flags and emblazoned 'UN Military Observer'. A white helicopter flew over head one day.

I don't think any of us truely appreciated what sort of day was to unfold. The road out had stretches of new bitumen. The in-betweens were a wild ride of bogs, weaving for best traction.

This area has stupendous landscape and spectacular panoramas that match anywhere. Thousand metre high rock outcrops. Cliff sided mountains. The road winds, climbs, hairpins, dips, and spirals through some sensational route findings to mountain plateaus, and down into deep valleys. Red rock, read soil, verdant growth.

We stop at Yeha (pronounced yeh-haw, not as you might expect Yee-Haa!) The old site was a pagan temple, 2500 years old. An awesome piece of masonry. A large open air mass (it was Sunday) was taking place outside the church next to the old ruins. It finished during our visit. The whole congregation then sat around and dished out tella - a home brew beer, in green plastic mugs, that looked like muddy water and tasted like ... oh my god! Yep. They were keen for us to sample.

A sense of concern sinks in as you approach the cliff sided mountain that hosts Debre Damo. Firstly, you notice the steep road ascending. Secondly, we know access involves a climb up the cliffs. I have never been up such a steep road. Thirty years ago, with a few mates, when rarking around the Snowy Mountains out from Canberra, we had to hand winch our car up a steep climb. But that was in a tricked-up for off-road 1960s Holden pano, not a contemporary 4WD. Not only steep, but boulders and deep rain gutters blocked the way. On the third attempt on the steepest section, the driver got us up. We bounced, lurched and leaned - and over the side was a sheer drop away cliff. Call me a girl, but I admit a wee bit of the scared. We were all pleased to reach the village at the base of the cliff. The top of the mountain is circled by 50 metre high cliffs. Acces to the monastry and monks' settlement up top is reached by climbing a leather rope. There is track from the top down to the top of the rope, but it's still a 15-20 metre vertical climb.

Women aren't allowed up. In fact, females of any species, animals included, aren't allowed. You never know what those lonesome monks might get up to!

Steve and I look at the cliff. We look at each other. At the cliff again. Take a large gulp of air. Right, let's do it!

You climb using the thick, plated, leather rope. Another strip of leather is lowered, tied around your waist, and pulled as you climb. You arrive at the top panting and a-quiver, It's 3,000 metres above sea level - that's our excuse. The top edge of the stone cliff has a deep, worn, U-shape from the centuries of wear from the leather ropes.

Steve and I high-five and head off for a look. The old monastry is astonishing. Built from layers of hugh stone blocks and massive timber beams. Holding up the ceiling are one-piece 2.5 - 3 metre high stone pillars. The books are, of course, fantastic as usual.

First reaction on sighting the monastry has to be: 'How did they ever build this? How did they get this stuff up here?' Mystery solved: The founder of the monastry, Abba Are (another of the nine Ethiopian saints) reached the top, carrying stones, aided by a flying serpent - of course! A disciple, Tekle Haymanot sprouted wings to escape when the Devil tried cutting away the rope he was climbing up - after which he could make flying visits to Jerusalum - again, of course! So there you have it. Thanks to Phillip Briggs (Ethiopia, 2005, Bradt Travel Guides). You have to say: it was all so simple back then (sixth century).

Some hermit monks live in caves on the cliff faces. There are other rock outcrops up top with caves also. We are shown inside. Stacked up are coffins. It's an Ethiopian Orthodox holiest thing to do - have your coffin left up here. Many coffins look new. We gag at the smell of death. Seeing our reaction, we are told the coffins are left below for 6-12 months to stop smell. Well, let me tell you, that hasn't worked too well. In other caves, skeletons lie about. A skull guards one entrance.

Again, a monster storm brews. We have to get off. At the top of the rope, Deb yells from below "What was it like?" "Can't tell you. We've sworn to secrecy," I call back. "Did you?" "Yep, but for two or three Bati beers, I could ..."

Going back down the rope is slightly more unnerving: We've now seen the skinny, old monk on the end of the safety rope!

Back down safely, Steve and I feel pretty chuffed. Shame to have been rushed by the impending storm. No sooner are we down and back to the 4WD then the heavens open. And we have to get back down that road. Water now pours down the gutters. The vehicle slips, slides: it's white knuckle stuff. I don't think I'm too much of a whimp, but this was bloody scarey.

Down, and in one piece, with only one concern: the river at the bottom. In no time it has risen and now its starting to rage. Another heart stopper, but we are through. But the road, bad enough before, is now treacherous. We have only experienced the edge of the storm. It's been a real beauty, a real downpour. Flash flooding occurs in streams, paddocks, rivers. The storm is all over in half an hour. One river has drawn a crowd to squat and watch the few vehicles try and get through (there 's only been some trucks, and a few NGO and UN Peace Corp 4WDs all day). A little unnerving. Our driver edges up, takes a look, backs up, edges up again, waits. Goes for it. We wash slightly sideways towards the edge of a drop away torrent tumbling down.

All getting a wee bit too much excitement for one day.

The road now requires locked 4X4. We spend time sliding, slipping, making our way sideways down the road. Holy Kamoly.

Anyway, we're getting out at Adwa. Jo and Steve go back to Axum, maybe 25 km. We say our farewells. They have been great company. A nice couple of people.

We check into a hotel The bar downstairs is jam packed, chocker with jokers. Chelsea are playing Man U in the season opener Charity Cup. A couple of St. George Lagers go down a treat after today's action. Young boys crean to look around the doors at the TV. Deb pops a little one on her lap for a prime view of the penalty shoot-out. What a shocker. Chelsea couldn't put one in the net.

We retire to the 'restaurant' for tibs and injera. This local tucker gets better all the time. More likely, I'm getting used to it and I'm hungry!

Happy or what. I want for nothing.

Maybe a dose of local home news, a dictionary, and a chat with Ing and Pete.

Max
aka Mad