hiking Archives - Wandering North

Asia Jordan

Wadi Rum

I left Wadi Musa early the morning after my amazing day in Petra, bound for Wadi Rum. I opted to take a taxi for the two hour drive. The same taxi driver that had taken me shoe shopping the day before. We had a good rapport. We left Wadi Musa, passing patches of pomegranate trees, stopped for water, and hit the highway.

The drive wasn’t too remarkable. Lightly colored rocky desert punctuated by the odd town or flock of windmills. (Do we still call them windmills when they are those tall, white modern ones? I still imagine windmills as something out of a fairy tale book or a postcard of historic Netherlands.) Anyway, we arrived in Wadi Rum and I was deposited at the ‘visitors centre’ to await pickup. Nothing was open and there was no wifi, but sure enough, soon a pickup truck approached, and I hopped in the back…and we went about 1 minute away to a house. I had no idea what was happening. It was, as it turned out, the house of one of the brothers who operated the camp at which I was staying.

I was ushered into a room without furniture, and sat on the heavily carpeted floor and leaned against cushions. I was immediately offered sweet mint tea (refusing it was futile) and sat and talked with the host (whose name I have now forgotten) while his two young children played with iPhones – not as phones, but as, cars, I guess; zooming them around on the floor and crashing them into each other, before their father sent them out of the room. We chatted for a while and then three more guys, all in traditional Bedouin garb, joined us: the host’s brother, a guy named Omar, and a guy who said nothing, but sat there being quietly handsome. We drank tea and smoked. I still wasn’t sure why I was there.

After about 45 minutes, I realized that we were waiting for two other people who were to arrive and go to the camp and the three of us would travel there together. The people arrived – a mother/daughter duo – from Germany who had been staying at the same guest house as me in Petra. As well, two Spanish girls who were leaving the camp appeared and we all sat on the floor and ate out from communal plates: hummus, labneh, bread, cucumbers, potatoes, chicken, and tuna, though the vegetarians amongst us abstained from the latter two. It felt so normal to be sitting and sharing a meal in that way, I almost forgot about Covid.

The German mother/daughter duo and I sat in the back of a pickup truck, outfitted with two bench seats and a fabric awning, and set out into the desert.

It was immediately overwhelming in the best possible way. Aside from the odd circle of Bedouin tents, there is nothing there. Just vast expanses of sand in shades of red and ochre and beige, and dramatic rock formations and mountains. It really does look like Mars, or what we imagine Mars to be. And it is huge.

We arrived at the camp: Arabian Nights. It looks pretty much like the others: boxy, black striped Bedouin tents, a main, large tent for meals and hanging out, and a fire pit.

I splurged on one of the deluxe tents, which meant I had my own bathroom. The water same from some metal boxes outside and had to be brought in from the town. No AC. Ironically, I did not sleep a night in my lovely tent. It was so hot that it would have been unbearable. Instead, I slept both nights outside, on a mat under the stars, which I highly recommend. It was still too hot for a blanket, but the breeze was wonderful, and the stars were spectacular.

That first day in Wadi Rum, we (the German mother/daughter duo, and I) just hung out in the main tent, reading, napping, and (me) smoking cigars. There were a lot of guys working at the camp, all local Bedouins, and they were great company as well. At night we all say around the fire talking.

Both nights, dinner was cooked in the traditional Bedouin style of digging a pit in the sand and lowering a tiered, metal … thing … into the pit on top of a fire, after loading the thing up with chicken and vegetables. The pit is then covered with a board, blanket, and a mound of sand and is left to cook. When the oxygen runs out, the fire dies, but the heat remains to cook everything. There was also a big pot of rice and the usual dips and breads. We were well fed.

On the second day, the German mother/daughter duo and I took an all-day trip into the desert. Omar was our driver for the day, and we took the aforementioned truck into the unknown.

The day was a series of drives through the sand to various points of interest and places for hikes. It was all terrific. Even just driving and looking and the awesome scenery was great. But then we would stop at a narrow cave, for example, and venture in to look at ancient carvings and paintings of people, horned beasts, and whatnot.

We climbed up a sand dune and sand boarded or tobogganed down. It was amazing, though hiking up a sand dune is challenging; it feels like you slide back farther with every step forward, but out of breath at the top, it doesn’t seem to matter.

We visited what remained of T. E. Lawrence (of Arabia)’s house where he allegedly slept, a rare spring of water, a large rock resembling a mushroom, and a couple of amazing natural rock bridges.

Whenever possible, Omar parked the truck and told us to hike over a small mountain or through a canyon and he would pick us up on the other side. The scenery was outstanding. Much of it didn’t even seem real, like a scene out of a movie.

All of this was great fun, albeit rather exhausting, made more so by the heat. Thankfully, we stopped in a narrow cave for a couple hours and laid on thin mats on the sane while Omar cooked us a hot lunch over a fire and another man who showed up out of nowhere played songs on the oud.

We also had opportunities at various points to stop at open air tents operating as tea houses – literally in the middle of nowhere – to have a glass of tea, a chat with whoever was there, and, if we were lucky, hear a bit more of the oud being played.

We finished the day by hiking up a small mountain to watch the sunset over the desert, where, on that mountain I ran into the Czech doctor who I had previously met in Petra. I ran into him again later that night when I discovered he was staying at the same camp and joined us or dinner and fireside chats.

It was really nice on this trip to Jordan that, even though the tourist numbers are abysmal, there were still people traveling and all of them seemed eager to talk and hang out. Just like old times.

I slept under the stars, looking up at the milky way, until I dozed off. Wadi Rum really exceeded my expectations. There were iterations of this trip, in the planning stages, where I had thought about skipping it. I am so glad I didn’t.

The next morning after breakfast, I left the camp and caught a taxi to Aqaba before bussing back to Amman.

Asia Jordan

Finally…Petra!

Have you ever had a moment where you knew, while it was happening, that you were having one of the best moments of your life? The last time I had one I was at a jazz club in Havana. But I think I had another one of those moments in Petra. Even if the rest of my trip to Jordan had been a let down (it wasn’t) that moment would have redeemed it.

I left my lodging at the Infinity Guest House early, maybe 5:30am. The sun was just starting to lighten the sky over the mountains that were the gateway to Petra

I entered the site and began the walk from the gate through unusual rocky formations punctuated with the odd temple or carving.

It was great and I took a lot of pictures, but that was just the preview.

Finally, I reached the beginning of the Siq, the 1.2 km long narrow passageway formed naturally by a fissure in the high rock walls, made smooth by the wind. It just sort of curves along and you walk between these high walls under a sliver of blue sky. Occasionally there are carvings; the remains of figures or designs, but mostly, it is just the path. And the incredible thing is, you don’t know when you will reach the end. Everyone who goes knows that when you reach the end you see you first glimpse of the Treasury, but you don’t know exactly when it will happen.

It was amazing. But what made it so amazing for me was that the whole way, from the entrance to the Siq and through it to the Treasury, I did not see anyone. It was just me. Normally there would be thousands of tourists, making noise, taking pictures, and locals there to offer things for sale. But it was all mine. All I could hear were my own footsteps. It felt magical. This was that moment that I knew I would look back on as one of the best.

Finally the Treasury did appear and it was even better than I imagined. It’s actually incredible how it was all created. You couldn’t ask for a better, more theatrical reveal to the entrance to the city of Petra. Those Nabataeans really had a flair for the theatrical.

When I did reach the Treasury, guys, most of whom seemed to be styled as Jack Sparrow, there were setting up their souvenir and coffee stands. I got a coffee and had a cigarillo, watching as the light on the Treasury grew brighter. Just then the next tourists walked in. Two of them.

I’m probably not supposed to look for anything good that came out of Covid, but this moment would not have happened without the pandemic.

Petra, the site, was inhabited by at least 7000 BC, with the city dating back to 5000 or 4000 BC. The Nabataeans were nomadic Arabs who settled there due to trade routes, or so I am told. They carved incredible temples and monuments, and city infrastructure, including means of capturing and moving rain water, which is non-existent for much of the year. In the 1st century Ad, the Romans took over and added their own flourishes, like stone streets and a large theatre. A couple hundred years later the Byzantines added churches and detailed mosaics. But the original Nabataean structures are the stand outs.

One of the neat things about the site is that, if you want to, you can just stroll down the wide main thoroughfare and take in amazing sites.

But if you want to explore, you can embark on punishing hikes that reveal yet more architectural wonders, caves, and views over the sites below.

I didn’t do all the hikes (I ran out of steam before the Monastery), but I climbed to the place of High Sacrifice and on a trail that took me up past the Royal Tombs and eventually (millions of carved stone stairs and one lost way later), led me to a tiny Bedouin tea house on the edge of a cliff over looking the Treasury. Terrific.

I spent close to an hour in that tea house, catching my breath and escaping the sun, which was harsh at this point. I talked with the other people foolish or awesome enough to make the ascent: a couple of guys from Netherlands, a man from London, a woman from Saudi Arabia.

I wandered around the rest of the site, until late afternoon, getting more fatigued as I went. The rests I took though were welcome chances to talk to locals and bedouins who told me about life in the area and, of course, there were camels.

Finally, when I had had my fill of amazing sites, I made my way out. There were more tourists at this point but not even a fraction of what there would have been under non-pandemic times. The one mistake I made in my visit to Petra was walking out. On the way out I could have taken a horse, donkey, or camel, but I stubbornly chose to walk. I love to walk. But at this point, about ten hours since I left my hotel and in the heat, I was exhausted, the walk out seemed so much longer as I shuffled along in the dust. I should have sitting majestically on top of a camel.

When I emerged from the site, I made my way to the Cave Bar (actually, first I laid down on the ground and then I walked to the Cave Bar), allegedly the oldest bar in the world, sat down on a shady, pillow covered sofa, and downed a virgin piña colada and a fresh mint/lemon juice while nibbling on hummus and labneh and smoking a Bolivar Royal Corona (cigar).

Post Petra, everyone seemed to be in a social, happy mood, and I chatted with other sweaty and satisfied travellers, recounting our similar but special days.

The one thing that may have been unique to my Petra experience is that my boots completely fell apart. Like, it was almost comical. One of the heels disintegrated and the sole of another wore through. And these were trusty boots that had seen me through hikes in places as far flung as Nepal and Ethiopia. I found a taxi and asked him to take me to the nearest shoe store. He not only dropped me off, but came in and helped me pick out sneakers. He was so good natured, I asked him to drive me to Wadi Rum the next morning, which he did.

I finished my day with a second cigar at my accommodations with dinner and the night air. It had been a perfect day. (And I still had Wadi Rum to look forward to.)

Canada North America

Dawson City, Yukon

I flew to Dawson City from Whitehorse on the tiniest of airplanes. It was fun and felt retro – due partly to the fact that there was absolutely no pre-boarding security checks. No x-rays, no pat downs, no assessment of liquids. It was like flying in the 1970s. The airport in Dawson City is literally a one-room affair.

Dawson City is now the farthest north I have been, as it is even farther north than Helsinki. Wandering North indeed. Dawson City is a Klondike Gold Rush town, founded officially in the late 1800s but replacing a First Nations village. It soared in population during the gold rush, and then dropped off. It currently has a population of about 1400 people but is a tourist destination for people who venture that far north.

It is charming. A proper old-timey town, along the Dawson River with mud streets and raised wood plank sidewalks, wooden buildings dating back close to 100 years and most painted bright colors. It kind of feels like you are in a gold rush theme park, except that everything is authentic.

Normally the place would be busy with tourists, but this was August 2020, so Covid kept most people away. Some things, like the historic Diamond Tooth Gertie’s gambling hall (complete with dancing girls) were closed completely and others, like a number of restaurants were doing outdoor eating or takeaway only. That said, I was still able to fully enjoy my visit.

I strolled past the buildings, walked along the river and did a little hiking.

I took an excellent historic walking tour put on by the visitor’s centre daily. They let us go inside some buildings that are otherwise closed to the public and had truly excellent stories about con men, prostitutes, and adventurers to had made Dawson City home.

The thing I kept thinking was: who are these people who live here? Who choose to live in a place where it goes down to -25C in the winter and where the sun largely disappears? Where they are near…nothing aside from wilderness. I assume the must all be criminals (joking – sort of) or people who have just rejected the trappings of a more conventional life.

What really blew my mind was that on the other side of the Yukon River from Dawson City is an area that is not part of any town and that is unconnected to plumbing or electricity and people live there and commute to Dawson by crossing the river by ferry when it is not frozen and walking across when it is (there is no bridge). Being that off-the-grid is enough of a stretch but twice a year – once when things are freezing and once when they are thawing – for about 4-6 weeks, it is impossible to cross. The ferry can’t run, but the ice is not firm enough for walking. So they just have to hunker down and wait. Crazy. Admirable, but definitely not for me. There is even a guy who lives on the other side of the river in a cave and has been doing so since the 1990s.

If you do cross the river on the ferry and walk along the river for a bit you will come to the ‘paddle wheel graveyard’. A place where several late 1800s/early 1900s paddle wheel boats crashed and were just left there. They are pretty much wrecks now, but you can still see what they were and you can climb all over them. It’s eerie and really cool.

That’s pretty much all I did in Dawson City – aside from drinking a drink with a human toe in it, but I’ll save that for the next post. There were lively bars with a serious dive quality that was appealing, but covid kept me out of such places. I was there for 2 days which was pretty good. I didn’t wish for more time. I recommend it if you are in that neck of the woods. It kind of made me realize just how big and, in places, wild and unforgiving Canada is.

Canada North America

Whitehorse Weekend

I had never thought much about the Yukon aside from having to learn its location and capital in elementary school, and I would not have gone if it wasn’t or a pandemic trapping me in Canada. While I can’t say that my long weekend trip to the Yukon (Whitehorse and Dawson City) was amazing, it was a pretty good short trip from Vancouver and I would recommend it, provided you like outdoorsy things.

View of Miles Canyon outside of Whitehorse, Yukon

Coronavirus & Travel

Covid. I have to say something about it because it is the only reason I decided to travel domestically (within Canada). It was March 2020 and I was 24 hours away from a weekend trip to New York when the pandemic was declared and the directive not to travel came down. I cancelled that trip and trips over the next few months to Denmark and Ukraine. I had trips for the rest of 2020 planned to Sudan, Iraq, et cetera, but none of that came to be. Obviously there are far worse things than not traveling (someone is always worse off than you and it is a bit of folly to compare suffering), but not being able to travel has been awful. It is the only thing I really want to do and without it, I live in a city I am a bit lukewarm about and all I do is work. Without travel to look forward to, life feels a bit pointless. That’s how I feel anyway.

By August 2020, I realized things weren’t going to open up any time soon and I decided to see something in Canada, so I picked the Yukon. It’s close to Vancouver and looked interesting. At the time, people from British Columbia were the only travelers allowed into the Yukon; everyone else was shut out due to coronavirus fears. It seemed like an easy choice and I decided to visit Whitehorse and Dawson City.

Whitehorse

I flew to Whitehorse. My first covid flight. Masks and lots of extra questions. I took a taxi from the airport to my accommodations: the Historical Guesthouse. If I returned I would definitely stay there again. It’s a log house built in 1907. It has a few rooms and shared facilities with a suite in the basement. It is simple and cozy with a great location. The best part though was that in the back is a colorful garden with sunflowers and raspberry canes. The owners live in a log cabin behind that. I quickly discovered that the husband of the couple is an avid cigar smoker. I was in heaven. I spent each of my two nights there with him (Bernie) sitting in the garden smoking cigars until late and swapping stories. He has a lot of good ones from his many years of living in the North.

Whitehorse the city itself isn’t anything that special. It’s small but not so small as to be quaint. There are some shops, but not much of interest. There is an arts scene, but it was shut down when I went because of the virus. You could easily see the town in a day (or less).

That said, I really enjoyed myself. I was so happy to be away. I walked the streets, photographed some street art and old buildings of character.

I was delighted by the foxes that seem to be everywhere in town if you get up early enough.

I was amused by the Yukon take on the covid social distancing signs that the government had erected. I now have a good sense of how big a caribou is compared to a loaf of sourdough bread.

Because of covid, many restaurants were just closed and many others were only doing takeout, so I didn’t get a sense of the restaurant scene, but I enjoyed a fancy grilled cheese from a cart and got coffee and soup to go from the Burnt Toast Café. And both evenings I had amazing vegan ramen from Wood Street Ramen.

The MacBride Museum of Yukon History was open and it worth a visit.

The thing that is best about Whitehorse, at least during my pandemic visit, was the outdoors. There is a nice riverfront with a path for walking and cycling and there are lots of bike rental places, as well as places to rent kayaks and canoes. Going canoeing seemed like fun, but I wasn’t about to just go out on my own. But I did walk and wander.

If one is so inclined there are tons of day canoe or kayak or hiking excursions around Whitehorse and if you don’t go in the middle of the summer, as I did, there are the Northern Lights. But I filled my two days easily without those things. If I had been there with other people or I had a car, there are quite a few day trips one could do to see a weird desert, pretty lakes, and quaint communities. I really wanted to visit Carcross (a tiny town with a vibrant First Nations community and lots of art) but you need a car. If I went back I would figure out a way to do that.

Day one I explored the town.

Day two I went on a hike that somehow took me eight hours when it should have taken four. The Miles Canyon Loop. It is walk-able from town and is far, but not difficult. Very scenic. Endless green trees cleaved by a jewel blue river with high, rock walls. It was the sort of scenery I wanted from my Canadian North excursion.

I had two full days and two nights of sight seeing in Whitehorse. On day three I flew to Dawson City, the old timey old west city in the Yukon, which was great: history, colorful old buildings, shipwrecks, and a human toe.

I wouldn’t say that one should travel from far flung parts of the globe to visit Whitehorse, but if you are already in the vicinity (like in Vancouver) it is an inexpensive, quick, and enjoyable place to do some outdoorsy stuff and see something a bit different. I would even consider going again once this stupid pandemic is over.

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Burkina Faso Village Hospitality

My final full day in Banfora started as did the day before: roosters and coffee. I made a little coffee at the house once i got over my fear of the gas stove, and then returned to the local corner cafe for an espresso. Today all of the men were filling out their racing forms. There are gambling kiosks here everywhere painted with pots of gold and horses head. People (men) bet on horse races in France hoping to win big. They din’t get to see the races, not even on TV. It seems to be a popular pastime. I was asked to assist with picking horses. The only one that jumped out at me was La Baguette Magique.

My guide picked me up on the moto and we headed on a dirt road through fields of sugar cane for Domes de Fabridougou. Similar to the Sindou Peaks i saw yesterday, but more round and less pointy. Still, it was nice to go on the hike. It was so serene and beautiful and hot, but dry. We hiked and sat on the top of a dome and took in the view and i had a smoke, trying to be in the moment as much as possible. On a dome, in Western Burkina Faso.

We left and, much to my surprise, made a stop in my guide’s village, near the domes. This is where he grew up until he was 15 and where most of his family lives, including his mother and daughters. About 25 people live in the small collection of tiny huts in the middle of the fields under a huge tree. Some smoke French, but all spoke in a local, tribal language (not Moore, something else).

This was some serious, rural poverty. Not all the kids has clothes and those they had were in very poor repair. No water or electricity. No phone, no lights, no motorcar. But they were very friendly and hospitable. They swept off a place in the dirt, clearing it from debris, and laid out a straw mat for me to sit on. Several of the women and children started making lunch for my guide and i. While they cooked i sat and watched women tend to the children and the women and children doing each other’s hair in braids. I tried to make some small talk, but mostly it was a lot of smiling.

After that my guide took me to two more unexpected stops. First was a visit to a ritual sacrifice area for the animists, of which he is one. Around a beautiful pool ringed with ricks and trees the ground was thickly carpeted in white chicken feathers. It looked like snow. The trunk of one tall palm tree was thickly hung with ropes, which were tied on to skulls, jaw bones, goat legs, and what looked like the skin of a cow’s face and head. From other trees and from the rock wall around the pool were more ropes dangling bones, skulls, and rocks. All for sacrifice and offerings or protection.

It was really interesting but it really looked like something out of a horror movie. Like if Leatherface and the Blairwitch collaborated on a little outdoor decorating.

Near the sacrifice area was the waterfall, which is a ridiculously picturesque series of small waterfalls and green, tropical pools. Had i been prepared i could have gone swimming. It was so beautiful it looked like something created for a film or Disneyland.

I usually don’t want a guide because i prefer to do things myself, but this was a time when i really could not have seen everything i did had i just been alone.

The ride back to Banfora from the village was terrifying. It was dusk to dark. The road was so bumpy that at times i bounced off my seat. We dodged small goats, a large lizard, and regular size pigs. We brushed shoulders with herds of cows. Not only was it dark and treacherous, but it was windy and the dirt road coughed up a haze of orange. I was certain that i would die, but was delivered to my lodging safely, and quite filthy.

I spent the rest of the evening chatting with Marion, the owner of the house at which i stayed and playing with the many kittens and puppies.

Banfora was delightful. Full of outdoorsy retreats and adventures. The next day i would return to Ouagadougou.

Africa Burkina Faso Burkina Faso Trip 2016

Sindou et Banfora

My second or third day in Banfora began when the roosters started crowing. I showered and headed out in search of coffee. The main, central restaurant here is McDonald’s…that is, a local restaurant with the name but which otherwise bears no similarities to the chain. I went there, as i had had a yummy vegetable couscous the previous day, but it was closed.

So i walked around looking for some place that looked like it served coffee. Success! A little café, typical in that it is basically just a corrugated tin roof, a wooden counter and some chairs. Different in that it had a TV and and espresso machine (most places just boil water for instant coffee). It was a good spot. Men sat around watching boxing and it was on a corner, good for people watching.

After that, Djubrie, my guide, picked me up on the moto and we headed for the country. I’m getting more comfortable with the no helmet thing, but it doesn’t help that the distance markers on the highway are shaped like cemetery headstones.

We had to stop for the police a couple of times to show ID. Apparently this is a recent thing. This area of Burkina Faso is currently in the “orange zone”, meaning that there is some additional threat of violence. A girl i met in Bobo Dioulasso was there working for an NGO and wanted to go to Banfora but was not allowed to go because of the potential for violence. But nothing here seems threatening to me.

We stopped at a village on the way where my guide knew the people. I was shown around. There were women preparing bissap flowers for boiling to make juice, women pounding rice with big wooden poles to separate the husks and then sifting then to get at the rice. Men shelling peanuts. Children chasing chickens and staring at me with curiosity. I learned that the women live in the round huts and men in the square ones. (I don’t know how this plays out for married couples.) Unlike other villages i have been to, there was no electricity. Lots of goats and a few sheep. They were kind enough to let me try my hand at rice pounding and to take some photos and one man filled my bag with fresh peanuts before we left.

We carried on. It was about an hour or so to the peaks, diverting down a dirt road under a canopy of trees. When we arrived we were the only ones there. It was majestic and peaceful, hiking through the wind worn rock towers.

Climbing up we had a terrific view of the green valley.

After that we went to a little camp of huts and a lunch of cucumbers, tomatoes, green peppers, and onions was prepared. We ate and i relaxed in a hammock with a cigar, watching chickens and goats and children playing with sticks and hoops. Very peaceful.

We then rode back to Banfora, stopping at another village where my guide had some family. I sat with some old men, smiling and not able to communicate (they spoke only Moore), while my guide tended to some business. Then we were on our way again.

Back at the house i slept then ventured out into the dark streets in search of dinner. Rice with peanut sauce. The streets were busy with traffic, women still selling fruits and vegetables and every roadside shack had a fire going, with meat and fish set to grill. I spent the rest of the evening at the house, relaxing under the stars with a book.

Asia Nepal Nepal Trip 2016

Nagarkot

I took a taxi from Bhaktapur to Nagarkot, a small village on a mountain in the Kathmandu valley. The only reasons to visit Nagartkot are for hiking and views of the mountains, the latter of which are dependent on the clouds. I could have taken the bus from Bhaktapur for pennies, but seeing the bus from the taxi made me glad that i splurged for the private transportation.

The drive up the mountain seemed to take forever. I kept thinking that we could not possibly go any higher, but we did, up past little shacks and rough looking hotels, higher into the trees.

The village of Nagarkot has a some places selling food and bottled beverages, but other than that it is just accommodations. My plan for spending two nights here was simply to do nothing but hike and read and rest, which is all there is to do.

I am staying at The Hotel At The End of the Universe, which is quite delightful. It has a nice main building with a restaurant and pleasant in and outdoor seating and then the accommodations are set out throughout a variety of cabins and tents. I had a cozy little cabin with a balcony overlooking the trees.

At night and in the mornings here it is quite cold, but it is warm and lovely during the day. I have been on a couple of good hikes. The first day, as i set off on a trail into the forest it did occur to me that no one knew where i was or where i was going and i didn’t have a cell phone, so if i were to, say, fall into a ravine and break my leg (a mishap for me which is well within the realm of possibility) no one would know where i was. I had at least brought water and an extra cigar. The hikes were lovely. Through dry forests and fields of wildflowers, overlooking valleys of tiered farmland.

I saw no one except for three women carrying bundles of sticks along the path.

Of course i cursed the steep hikes up the mountain which ultimately led me back to the main road, which itself was steep and had to be climbed to get back to my hotel, which sits atop a million stairs. Aside from all of this hiking and climbing, i have just been sitting around, reading, and drinking tea.

Last night there was a torrential rain storm, which turned to hail of apocalyptic proportions. There was no electricity so i, one of the employees, and a girl from the UK but living in Bangkok, sat in the main building, chatting by candlelight, and waiting for the weather to let up. During this, there was also an earthquake, though not enough to cause any disruption.

My time in Nagarkot has been thoroughly relaxing and pleasant, as i had hoped for. The views of the mountains have been obscured by haze and cloud, but it has been lovely all the same. This was the best view of the Himalayas that i got…

Africa Ethiopia Ethiopia Trip 2015

Travels With My Mule

The day before yesterday i was sitting in a pleasant cafe near the centre of Lalibela when a local guy showed up and started talking to me. I politely if a bit tersely went though my rote answers to the usual questions: Canada. Vancouver. Just about 3 weeks. Ethiopia is very beautiful and the people are very friendly. (All of which is true.) but this guy persisted and i actually gave him the time to talk. I had been planning on going on an excursion by car the next day to see some pf the countryside and outlying churches, but this guy had a better idea-to go into the mountains by mule and visit a monastery and a village. This sounded like a way better idea, so i agreed to meet him early the next morning.

When i pictured a journey by mule i imagined leisurely strolls down wide forrest paths on my trusty…mule.

It certainly started out that way but when we started to really as end the mountain the mules were climbing up very steep inclines over not so much paths but trails of jagged, large broken rock. At times the trail was comfortably wide but in many places it narrowed to about 3 feet with a mountain face on one side and a sharp drop off on the other. As i have little or no experience riding beasts of burden, at times this was nerve wracking, but also exciting.

Finally we reached a place where the path became too narrow for the mules so we continued on foot on narrow path hugging the cliff face until we reached a short, day-lit tunnel, climbed up a scramble of rocks and reached a monastery where the on duty monk or priest showed us many religious texts and items by candlelight.

After that there was more hiking; the sort that requires one’s focus not to pick the wrong rock to step on and slide to one’s doom. It was good though.

When we reached the next flat bit we rode the mules again to a village where we went to a local traditional house where a family of four lives. The house, made of mud and straw with a peaked wooden roof, is about 8 feet in diameter and contains one room on top (where the family lives) and one room on the bottom (where the livestock live). It was pretty cozy, but it’s hard not to think about 4 people living in this tiny mud room with no electricity or water and the fact that it is about an hour’s hike down a tricky mountain to the nearest town.

The two girls and mother did not speak English, but the boy did and he told me about their village and his school which his sister handled the coffee ceremony. They also provided injera and some spicy wat, as well as spiced wheat berries for snacks. They were very hospitable and it was a great experience.

The rest of the way down was a combo of mule riding and hiking when the decline was too steep.
It was a fantastic day, but left me thoroughly exhausted, with only enough energy for dinner and tea.

Africa Ethiopia Ethiopia Trip 2015

Trekking and Tracking Troops of Baboons

Yesterday morning i awoke at 4am (still in Gondar, Ethiopia) to the sound of rain. That was followed by the slow awakening of a ring of mosques around me, which all began the call to prayer shortly after 4am and which continued their haunting music for about 3 hours.

Yesterday was my day to go trekking in the Semian (aka Simian) Mountains. I and two other girls (French) from the hotel left in a van with a driver and guide. Along the way we picked up two men with old Russian machine guns who would be our muscle – for protection from what i am unsure. We drove for a couple of hours through the countryside. It really is amazing seeing what people carry around in their daily lives, on foot, from village to village. People are walking miles carrying huge jugs of water or oil, massive bundles of firewood, multiple sacks of potatoes and onions, and logs – i saw one women who was well past middle age carrying three logs, each about 15 feet, on her back. Sometimes i feel lazy when i have to carry groceries 4 blocks home. Also seen: people frequently carrying big sticks or crooked walking canes. I presume these are for tending flocks, but when walking most people have them slung over their shoulders; and when they are all dressed in white it reminded me of the droogs from Clockwork Orange.

We drove through several small, rural towns where i saw signs in English and Amharaic advertising that children should go to school and not work. I also saw many kids playing in the street like it was 1940s America: marbles, hopscotch drawn in the dirt, and the very vintage hoop and stick combo (with the hoop generally being an old tire).

Finally we reached the mountains and began hiking. We had ascended rather quickly to a high altitude, which was noticeable, but the hike was not too difficult. The views were beautiful and the paths we walked took us close to the edge and often through patches of eerie moss-covered trees with ravens and vultures circling.

Our machine gun toting companions stayed with us the whole time.

The best part of the hike was seeing hundreds of gelada baboons. They were everywhere in troops ranging from 6 to dozens. They were busy picking and eating grasses, sometimes with babies in tow. We could get within about 10 feet of them before they would move away. They really were quite fascinating and i was delighted to be able to see so many and for such long periods of time. I also saw a small grey monkey with a white, furry face but it was too swift for me to get a photo.

My hiking companions were camping out but i was heading back to Gondar so after some coffee and fresh popcorn made on a fire on a summit, we parted ways.

On the way back to Gondor i stopped at Wolleka, aka Falasha Village, which had once been home to a population of Ethiopian Jews, but since they were moved to Israel in the 1980s, it is a regular Ethiopian village with some remaining, but disused, synagogues and art on the houses.

That was a full day for me. I finished it off with a fabulous platter of Ethiopian fasting food (vegetarian food) at the charming Four Sisters restaurant in Gondar which was probably the best meal I’ve had on this trip and was well worth the walk in the dark on the unlit, unpaved road there and back. Fortunately, i had my flashlight, though i doused it periodically to look at the sky, which was filled with stars – the kind you only see when away electricity.
I slept very soundly.

Tag: hiking

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