Northern Ethiopia Part 4: This is getting tough

Adwa to Lalibela: A true test of our travelling mettle.

Adwa to Lalibela: 380km, but we expect a challenge.

Adwa To Lalibela: Our guide book says posible in three days. Bus to Adi Abay, another to Sekota, and on the third day arrange a ride or hitch with a truck. Tough roads, remote, but possible.

We're up early, as usual, in Adwa. At bus station by six. Bus leaves at nine, after waiting to fill up with passengers and a couple of loops of town looking for extras. The rain from previous day had disappeared. Streams ran dry, fields wet but not flooded, a couple of rivers raged but metres below the day before. Sun shone. Skies blue.

I've run out of superlatives for describing this countryside. Yeah, I know, there's fantastic landscapes the world over. But usually its ringed off, and called a National Park. Here, we've been driving through it for six or seven days without let up.

This is remote territory. Tiny villages of people are housed, they cultivate, and use beasts of burden in exactly the same manner as time immemorial.

We arrive Adi Abay and locate a tidy enough hotel. Our standards have taken further re-adjustment. We seek lunch. Find a nice firfir - kind of a fondue: grilled beef served in a little dish with a charcoal burner, topped with sliced boiled egg, tomato, onion, chilli and peppers. Yummy. With injera - I've changed my mind: not so much Weetex sponge but carpet underlay.

Back to our hotel room and we spot a tell tale sign some one has been in there. Our packs are locked, check day packs to discover Deb's oldish cell phone and my cheapish sunglasses bought at the Billabong factory shop in J-Bay, South Africa are gone. Travellers are easy targets - they may not discover their loss until moved on, and then wonder where they have 'lost' them. So we confront the hotel, and go to the police. Despite language difficulties they do all the 'right' police procedural things.

The afternoon storm rages a little off in the distance. We receive, by Ethiopian standards, a light sprinkle. But, of course, lose power for a couple of hours. Dinner over candle light, kaewot and dabo (yes, bread). Not bad, firey little number. I hope that when I use the term 'cafe' and 'restaurant' you are not visualising Lambton Cafe or Noosa Beach type establishments. You'd be way wrong.

Early morning wake up, whate else. As we leave for the bus station, the doorman tells us the police arrested a boy from the hotel for stealing our stuff. But language difficulties mean our questions about the phone and sunglasses just cause confusion. An unfinished story.

At every buss station there are about four or five 'tricks' we have learnt to be mindful of to not either be fleeced outright or relieved of an amount that is euphemistically called 'tips', for as you've guessed absolutely no service rendered. Today we are in for a whole new lesson. We ask around for the Sekota bus and are steered to a lad calling 'Yechillay! Yechillay!' This is a small town 25km away. "Sekota?" "Yes, Yechillay then go Ambegele. Then other bus to Sekota."

We're off. Arriving at Yechillay everyone gets off, the mini-bus is unloaded. "Do we go to Ambegele?" "No bus Ambegele." "How do we get to Sekota then?" (All this in bodgie English). "Contract. Contract. Their way of saying you can contract the mini-bus to take you. Bastards! Options: back to Abi Aday, go back out the long way down the 'eastern side', adding days, several bus trips, accommodation stops.

"One thousand birr." "Get out of here!" Discussion follows. We settle for an outrageous five hundred birr. There's seven birr to NZ$1. Thirty Five Kiwi for a trip like this might not be bad in NZ, but this is Ethiopia. "On one condition. If we pick up anyone along the way, I get the fare." Agreed. Of course, if this isn't a bus route, there won't be any other passengers. But as we near Sekota we do pick up six or seven - I get 20 birr! Not only paying for the mini-bus but subsidising locals as well.

Sekota is probably about the lowest level town you'd ever want to have to stay in. While getting our bearings a 4WD negotiated the roundabout and heads for Lalibela. I flag it down. No, not Lalibela but some place about 40km away. I can't recall its name, and its not on our map, nor in the guide. We've seen these nothing little villages along the way. No thanks.

I ask lads where is the driver of another parked 4WD. They point me to a cafe acroos the road. It belongs to an Italian NGO outfit. There are a couple of locals with the NGO, and a young Italian guy working with them having lunch. They might be able to organise a ride in the morning. "Have some lunch."

A fortnight of fasting has began. They fast every Wednesday and Friday as well. This means no meat products. The meals have become very interesting. Beans, bean mash, scant vegies. The NGO guys talk to a joker who says he can take us to the 'no name' town, where we can spend the night at his 'place' , and he will take us to Lalibela in the morning. Sounds Ok-ish.

We load up, as we take off we realise we haven't confirmed a price. Number one rule. He asks, as you'd expect, another outrageous price. We'd only just consider it for the whole trip to Lalibela. Half now, half when we get to Lalibela. He doesn't like the price, and also says he may not be going to Lalibela tomorrow. Stop! Let us out.

The Italians (three or four) at the NGO are surprised to see us when we drop in to see their outfit. They agree the price was crazy. They say 1,000 birr is their usual to Lalibela. They were keen for us to join them that evening.

However, we find ourselves sitting at the filling station petrol pumps negotiating with what must be the whole of bloody Sekota town. Every one considers themselves a 'broker', with a fee of course. Opening gambit is 2,000 birr. Ethiopians have the oddest negotiation style. They open with the most outrageous , ridiculous bid, will come back with a nonsensely small reduction, and then let you walk rather than 'lose face'. In shops, what they do is to let another person take over the negotiation, in that way saving the first person's esteem.

We eventually work it down to the 1,000 birr, with a 4Wd. A two and a half hour drive usually. But we leave mid afternoon and drive into the afternoon thunderstorm. The road winds up treacherous mountain paths, with scary drop offs.

The storm is a beauty. The lightning and thunder is something else. We crawl in the pouring rain. Then stop. Dead smack in the middle of the road for 15 minutes to let the worst pass. It's ever so dark. This is quite terrifying.

We arrive in Lalibela after four hours, still pouring with rain. Our built in pack covers do a reasonable job of protecting the packs, sitting on the back of the Landcruiser ute.

What a couple of days. Robbed, cheated, lied to, thrilled, terrified, wonderful experiences and ones you'd prefer to do without. But, I guess, we've made it.

Next day: We have looked forward to Lalibela. (another story), but inquire about forward buses to Gonder. "No buses - road broke" Oh yeah, we think. "only 4WD, 2500 birr" We've near had a gutsfull. It turns out a bus has rolled in a river crossing, blocking the road except for 4WDs. A crane coming from Addis has broken down. There has been no buses in/out Lalibela for three days. We think, we think.

What about flying! Ethiopian Airways will fly us for 600 birr each! See what I mean about ridiculous prices that are asked. The hotel man wants to drop his price for hire of the 4WD. Too late.

At Ethiopian Airways we meet a frazzled looking English couple who were so pleased to hear our story. That it was happening to some one else, they wondered what they were doing wrong. They were surprised and impressed to learn we had got down the 'centre road'. They had gone the long way, the way of public transort, with difficulties. They'd had a gutsfull of Ethiopians. "I've travelled a bit in Africa, " says the guy, " but this is incredibly tough." Maybe, he's right.

Bus would have been two days (with an overnight stop), a 4WD one day, but the plane with mucking around - half a day. Thirty minutes into the thirty-five minute flight and we start circling. Thunderstorm in Gonder. The hillsides are pouring down, the roads awash. The old Fokker Friendship slews sideways as it lands on the awash runway. It's been bucketing down.

Ethiopia is a love/hate relationship. You are constantly hounded, but keeping your sense of humour and trying to make fun of it helps. In some ways Ethiopia has been the most fantastic experience, in some ways the worst. We have seen some shocking sights. There are amazing sights. Some lovely people, astonishing history and culture, but always off-set agaist, I'll be frank, the dis-shevelled mess that is Ethiopia.

So, we are back in Gonder where we started our 'northern loop; back onto our bottom-to-top African trail. We've probably 'stored' a day or two. This will be handy for our timing of our Sudan entry. We've only got a 14-day transit visa and you have to get out on Wednesdays - that's the day the Wadi Haifa ferry leaves for Aswan, Egypt. So now we are off to The Sudan border. Will it be any easier? Doubt it.

Max
aka Mad