Sticks and stones may break my bones, Ethiopia tried to hurt me.
The border procedures entering Ethiopia were refreshing in that I could do them myself. There was no need to waste money hiring someone else to satisfy the countries bureaucratic requirements as for the first time the procedures and requirements were quite simple and transparent. After crossing the bridge from Sudan you find yourself in a small compound. Immigration is on the right and customs up on the left. I has acquired my Ethiopian visa at the embassy in Khartoum. The process was fairly painless, requiring little effort and a bit of time.
I'll include that information on my Ethiopia travel page - just follow the link above to go there for an overview of travel in Ethiopia rather than reading about my adventures below.
The town beyond the boom gate was a stark contrast to the country I'd just stepped from. Barren, rusted shacks and tarp covered huts on the Sudanese side were immediately replaced by a similarly eclectic variety of buildings but the people were completely different. Lighter skin tones, people kissing in the streets and so much skin in comparison to where I'd spent so much time in the preceding months.
Gondar:
I slightly regret not spending a night in Metema as choosing to push on towards Gondar had me riding the last leg in the dark and I prevented me from enjoying my first taste of the country.
The road to Gondar climbs and climbs and climbs into lush cool air after the unrelenting heat of the Sudan. Suddenly I was in a world of green, fertile lands and a myriad of animals all over the road.
Cows: stubborn and slow moving you'll learn to read them from afar and intuitively known when they will start to trundle on the road and when they'll continue munching away at the grass where they are.
Donkeys: one level more annoying than cows as they're slightly more likely to step out on you at the last minute. Completely and blissfully unaware of the terror they place themselves in. They're also the most likely creature to find lying in the middle of the road or anywhere else they so please. Approach cautiously but generally you'll get passed without further problems.
Goats: sitting in the furthest reaches of the frustration spectrum, goats will likely run towards you in an attempt to kill themselves as you approach. Do so with caution. They're erratic and almost never stay anywhere near where they were when you first clocked them.
Aside from adjusting to the teeming number of animals on the road, people walk wherever they please. Little regard is felt for cars and you must be so careful. Particularly if you find yourself driving at night. People will materialise out of the dark meters in front of you.
The road to Gondar was truly beautiful. Stopping for picture opportunities was limited as I rushed to make it before dark.
Johannes's Guesthouse is an ideal spot in town for Overlanders and backpackers alike. Room for camping for a few dollars, nice rooms for a little more plus secure camping make it ideal. Even though it is a little challenging to find. If you're headed down a cobblestone road after a right turn, one more right up a dirt track will place you in front of a big unsigned rolling metal gate. Bang on it a bit and you'll be welcomed inside. The man himself is a character. But in the end, I stayed two nights the first day addressing a few mechanical issues on the bike like a seized pilot screw on my carburetor and a failed attempt at finding some motorbike appropriate oil.
Hard work complete I took to the streets and the bars listening to music and otherwise enjoying myself. I ate my first mouthfuls of Ethiopian injera and shiro. I discovered I was here during the longest period of fasting that the country endures. A whole month without meat that meant the delicious Tibs was off-limit's for the duration of my stay. In the end I did manage to find it and got to partake in the end of the fasting period on my last night in Addis. Fir-fir is another popular one with the injera leftovers stirfriend with popular spices and tomatoes and then, you guessed it, eaten on top of more Injera.
I also ventured out to the castle in the center of the village that demonstrates the history of this great country. It's bizarre to think of European-esque castles in Africa, yet here they are.
Castle in Ethiopia anyone?
Castle in Gondar Ethiopia
Me and Castle in Gondar Ethiopia
Other ruins in Gondar Ethiopia at the site of the old bath.
One of my favourite views of the Castles
One last view anyone?
Ethiopian Kitten
Bahir Dar:
From here I headed south-east around Lake Tana to exploring the town of Bahir Dar and have my first close call with local drivers. Bahir Dar is in the southern end of Lake and despite being the regional capital it has little else to offer. The Blue Nile falls would be particularly impressive but for the dam that has cut off its water supply and turned a kilometer long torrent into a 10m wide trickle.
Getting there is a chore either requiring patients on the slow bumpy road, arranging a driver in Bahir Dar or taking a tour from the town down. The walk around is nice, refreshing and a lovely chance to stretch my legs with a cute like ferry ride that you can take at the beginning or the end to make a complete loop. There is also a campsite above the falls that comes highly recommended but there is no secure parking for your vehicle at the site so you have to leave it by the gate. For backpackers it would likely be the perfect spot to stay in the area.
Back along the same bumpy awful road into Bahir Dar I decided to attempt to circumnavigate the lake. The maps I had didn't indicate a road around it but maps.me had a track go half way and another little tail at the other end. Presuming they must be attached I set off in search of a place to camp with the backup of knowing off a small Overlander's camp on the North side of the lake.
Blue Nile Waterfalls during the dry season
To the east of Lake Tana
An island of fishermen just off from Tim and Kim's Village
At Bahir Dar the lake is a little scummy, not overly pretty. Further around with less people and pollution its much more beautiful. The rough rocky road winds its way through the hills to the lakes east and brings you close only occasionally. Its farming land here, people are everywhere and there is no where I feel comfortable attempting to set up camp.
The ride drags on a little but finally I pick up the beautiful piece of tar that has been recently finished to head to Kim and Tim's Village. A beautiful little eco resort offering cheap as chips camping, lovely dinners and beautifully finished huts for very reasonable prices. I was almost tempted to treat myself. And that doesn't happen often. For two or three days I relaxed by the side of the lake and consumed my weight in literature.
The Bradt guide for the country struck me as the best travel guide I've ever come across. They're detailed in offering solutions from shoestring to flash packing and beyond.
Simien Mountains:
From here I headed north to the town of Debark which provided access to the Simien Mountains. Boasting beautiful scenery and offering up the tallest peaks and highest roads on the continent I wanted to explore. For many, tours will be the only opportunity you'll get to enter. This has the positive of allowing you to only pay a fraction of several fees that cannot be avoided like the obligatory security guard and give you the transportation options that are otherwise impossible to find. I met a few people that hiked from the town all the way in and then back but the first day or two of walking is spent just getting there and not actually in the depths of the park.
I wanted to ride my bike in, so I could summit a 4200 odd meter pass near the peak of the second highest summit in the park. This however came with a price. I was obliged to take my very own Kalashnikov toting security guard into the park. To add insult to injury the government had unilaterally increased the prices they could charge putting my one night adventure into the expensive category. However I have no regrets for the experience was well worth it.
Jokingly I asked the park manager to find me a small security guard which Ill admit I did actually get and left most of my luggage at the Walya Lodge run by Andreas. He is great man who loves his country and has a great passion for its tourist industry. He was some of the best company I had and I hope he is well.
From the town I headed up the mountain road and soon left the tar behind. A quick permit check at the gate had me hauling ass up into the mountains with an assault rifle visible in my mirror.
I camped the night at Chenneck camp having ridden up the pass and climbed the mountain before returning to just a little below 4000m. It was a pretty fresh old evening and was probably one of the coldest nights of the trip. At least I had all my gear. I met a brilliant and crazy Norwegian named Teresie who had cycled north from Cape Town. Desperate to loose weight on her bicycle she had left her sleeping bag behind long ago and survived the night wrapped in a blanket and survival sheet. Taking masochism to a whole never level with that degree of commitment.
I met a motley collection of cyclists during my trip. The vulnerability, hard work and minimalism never appealed to me. Mad respect to those that can manage it though.
Driving the same track back out of the park the following morning had me struggling. The harder direction is definitely going back with challenging rocky uphill sections requiring considerable effort rather than just rolling down in first on the brakes.
Bwahit
Another angle
Chenneck Camp Simien Mountains Ethiopia
Proud and in control
Running Scared
Monkeys or Baboons?
Walia Ibex
Arty enough?
Enjoy
Enjoy some more
The pass up Mount Bwahit
I was knackered - climbing to that altitude with no prep
Top of Bwahit Simien Mountains Ethiopia
Proof that I climbed as high as I said I did
I have proof of the altitude!
Near Chenneck in the Simien Mountains
Top of Africa
Yet another angle
Walya Lodge and a bed....
Gelada Monkeys
Aksum:
One more night at Walya Lodge before I aimed for Axum the historical capital of the Aksumite empire that stretched far north and claimed administrative and trading powers over much of the horn of Africa. Interestingly enough, its also said to be the home of the Ark of the Covenant.
The road to it used to be regarded as one of the most adventurous on the continent. Crazy mountain passes with nothing preventing a long fall off the edge. This remains true for the first 50km from Debark which features a spectacular mountain pass complete with a combination of mist and dust swirling in the air after which you pick up the Chinese built roads that Africa is covered with. A beautifully smooth piece of tar with almost no traffic I had a hoot hammering up and down the roads leaning into some of the corners until I dragged my foot pegs or bags up the road.
Simien Mountains Ethiopia
That brilliant road to Aksum
A few photo opportunities later I made it to the Hotel Africa. Secured parking and a bed for just a few dollars. The shower was hot and I found myself wandering the streets with a group of Overland truck travelers. A motley bunch varying from the amusing driving team through to those just along for a week or two it was my first insight into such a form of travel. Big days in the truck as it lumbers from place to place before setting yourself up wherever you're staying, participating in the obligatory local sights, sounds and smells before crashing and repeating the next days.
I spent the next morning wandering the sights of an empires old capital, the old tombs, the dam and the small museum. I dithered and pondered whether I'd head to some of the rock carved churches in the north but my budget prevented me from heading to Mekele and the Danakil Depression. These two sites are ones I'd go back to Ethiopia for.
Lalibela:
Instead I took the central dirt road towards Lalibela. I knew I wouldn't make it in a day though it became quickly apparent that I wouldn't make it far at all after I got struck by my first puncture.
As far from anyone as I had been in Ethiopia this road had a handful of small towns down its length I thought I might have found one of the better stops for a break down. Never the less kids appeared out of the wood work, staring at me from over rocks up the sides of nearby mountains and wandering around me and my bike.
I've often been asked if I'm scared of having problems, whether I get worried about being stranded. My answer has always been two-fold - why worry until it happens and secondly, I'm ready for when it does. I carry two tire levers, the spanner for the rear wheel nut, a small compressor as well as spare tubes and a tube patch kit.
I set to work and after I little bit of fun getting the pesky bead seated I was back on the road. With the dark setting in and my belief in my remoteness I headed off a little way further before ducking off the road into a riverbed.
Naturally riverbeds are local highways, used by everyone and their dog to get where they're going. Lesson learnt for future nights. As the sun was setting I was spotted by one teen and by morning I was surrounded.
"What are you doing?" their appointed spokesboy asked. "Camping" I responded "I needed to sleep". "Why?" he asked. "Because I was sleepy" I quipped. They looked among themselves with the most incredulous looks. "Why are you here?" he responded. "I'm headed to Lalibela and then to Addis Ababa" I said as a collected round of 'oooohhhhs' went up. "Why don't you go to a hotel?" another asked. "Because I refer camping" I told them all. "Can we have some food?" to which they all went silent as I stood before them reflecting their earlier incredulous look. "I don't have any" I said quietly. "You always have food" was responded by a simple shake of my head.
Wild camping
My first puncture
After this I started asking for names, where they lived, what they did but I'd lost them with my refusal to offer anything that they could hold and enjoy. As with everywhere I was greeted with "You, you, you, yo......", or "money, money, money" or "pen, pen, pen". From time to time I gave a pen thinking at least they were entrepreneurial if they tried to sell them on but after a while most get the message that you're not a typical schmuck. Its one of the most tiring things about Ethiopia though. I thought I'd seen bad in Morocco and Egypt but Ethiopian begging took it too a new level.
Lalibela offered a day's rest and some of the most impressive things I've ever seen. The rock-cut churches of Lalibela were built by the synonymous king. Some of the most impressive I've ever seen they are literally hewn from the Mountain, their roofs following the lines of the mountains topography. It's quite remarkable walking around at ground level and looking down to the singing, chanting masses as they pray.
Waking at 5am and walking up to one of the churches was one of the most serene experiences of the trip. Watching the proceedings, the music and the fervor of belief was quite touching. I sat with Oliver, a fellow rider of a Ural with sidecar as we spoke to some local children. I was invited by one young lady back to her house for tea with her family but fearing a tourist trap I begged off and headed south towards Addis.
Inside just one of them
The laneways and passages carved into the stone
Aweinspiring
St George Church from above
St George Church
Addis Ababa:
A long day in the saddle as I wiggled my way towards Dessie and some petrol. Arriving in the town I found a queue of 100 tuk tuks waiting patiently for petrol so I rolled around the corner and around the next until I sat at the back of the group. Accepting a fair wait I started chatting with the boys and having a laugh comparing the tuk tuk motor to the one on my motorbike.
Suddenly this women come jogging around the corner, puffing away as she grabbed at me and started to drag me to the bowser. "You first". Suspecting some fee for the queue jump I headed to the front of the line and astonished everyone loading up 34l into my tank. "That's more than my car" she said. But I discovered that it was more likely just the perk of having sold so much fuel in one big lump. Not just a liter at a time.
From here the ride to Debre Birhan saw the altitude climb again, up a mountain pass festooned with Baboons and a quick lunch of injera in town. From there I reached Addis late in the afternoon where I arrived at the popular Wims Holland House. I sent myself up in their little compound and took to the bar for a nice relaxing and my first solid internet connection in months. Shortly after I arrived two others motorbike riders turned up, my first introduction to Ferry and Gulcin. Textbook adorable on two 250s riding the world. Having spent two years looping Africa they were on their last stretch home.
It was a delight making friends and relaxing with some mod cons before I coped my first very traffic accident after I got hit by a delightful chap running a red light. Luckily I was riding with friends who looked after the bike so I didn't have to abandon it while I headed to the police station.
With some time the cockiness of the young man who hit me died away as he faced the reality of what had happened. In time he began to nudge me towards accepting going separate ways. My own dubiousness of the official process of a scene inspection determining who was at fault pushed me to agree and run. Straightening out the bike would have to wait I rode back in second and tucked myself away for the night to lick my wounds.
A few days of recuperation and relaxing with friends had me rearing to get going again. I was itching to get some miles under my belt. I didn't like being stationary for long.
Omo Valley
The ride out to Arba Minch was just what I needed, small roads as I took the back route wiggling through the mountainous pot hole riddled road. I've rarely had so much fun. My first stop was at Langano Lake to enjoy the tranquility of the rift valley. The next morning I headed south making my way towards a cliff-side hotel's garden. In my time, the Bekela Mola Hotel offered the cheapest camping in the area. With the Emerald resort offering the best restaurant and bar but the most expensive night possible in a pretty abysmal campground.
Arba Minch Ethiopia
Arba Minch - Escarpment view
In Ethiopia camping was generally up to 200 birr a night. I outright refused to spend more than that anywhere. If in the area the Dorze Lodge before Arba Minch is top quality and has come highly recommended but I only heard of it afterwards.
From Arba Minch I headed through Konso towards Turmi. At Woito I turned off the black-top and took the back route through Arbore. I highly recommend the detour during the dry. The road would frequently be washed out during the wet and one stretch is through a gigantic riverbed that leads out of the highlands and into the low farming lands of the tribesmen. I hit one puddle and expected it to be like all the rest, next minute I was standing in knee deep water just outside Arbore. Soaking with a drowned motorbike. I pulled the cover off the air box to drain the water out and cleared the breather on the carburetor. While doing so one of the local chaps dropped by and had a good laugh with me. The son of one of the chiefs he was checking in to make sure all was okay. I regret not spending the night as I instead pushed on towards Turmi enthusiastic for my desire to attack Turkana and hopeful that I'd miss the rains that were threatening to scupper my attempt.
Road to the middle of nowhere
This would be spectacular in full flow
I love these road into the mist
View as you drop out of the highlands
Turmi:
By mid afternoon I'd found myself a few kilometers from Turmi but blocked by one fairly healthy obstacle. A river flowed before me, churning into the distance apace. Pulling up on my side I waded across, a fairly firm base had me confident I'd be able to make it. One of the guys on the other side pointed out a rough down river route to go with the flow.
Jumping on the bike, tucking my electrics into their waterproof bags and crossing my fingers that I wouldn't come off and ruin everything I rode into the water. Everything went swimmingly until those last few meters before the bank where the sand beneath me disappeared as I waded hard, paddling my feet away. As I popped out the other side the carb spluttered one last cough of water filled petrol and the bike died. At least I was through in that moment I felt victorious.
Luckily the resuscitation didn't take long and after a quick face wash in the river I rode up the bank into the Mango campsite. I was quickly welcomed by a young Brit who had made one of the little huts her home. An expat NGO worker she met and fell in love with a local tribesman. Pregnant, married and now bouncing a baby boy on her hip she is calling Ethiopia her home for now. A life she never imagined before she left and one I could never imagine confronting.
I rode along into town tossing up whether I wanted to stay at one of the lodges there or head back to the campsite. I first found some fuel and a bite to eat as well as arranging myself a guide to the Hamer Bull Jumping ceremony that was going on the following morning.
Hamer Bull Jumping Ethiopia
A taste of the bull jumping
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Hopeful of getting internet to contact some friends to join me for Turkana I stayed at the Kizo lodge having negotiated prices down to $5. As always the power was out but I chose to look on the positive side. I was here in this quintessential African town at the southern end of Ethiopia about to embark upon one of the biggest adventures I'd ever considered.
I was almost out of Ethiopia, a country I had long been curious about. The food and a good friend of mine who had lived there as a kid made it sound like an epic place to explore. It had been fulfilling but also more challenging and exhausting than many places I'd traveled before. The people are one had one of the greatest degrees of distain for foreigners I have ever come across. I regularly had children throwing stones, people attempting to whip me when I went by and just generally treat me with contempt at times. Ethiopia has a reputation as being one of the most brutal countries to cycle across and I didn't feel much better off on a motorcycle.
I sat in Turmi that evening over a

with one of the others who was there spectating with me, an old school rider who did what I was doing now, decades ago. I have insane respect and a crazy degree of envy for the experience. I hope that I get to experience more places in the world before they reach their heyday. The adventure is rapidly evaporating from this world.
From here to Omerate was a short ride on the last tar I would see for a while, I stopped to sort out my immigration's and custom's paperwork, top up with fuel and change my remaining Birr into Kenyan shillings. I attempted to get some more information out of the locals as to the weather and the likely levels of the river. I had been warned about one big crossing just before Illeret, the first outpost on the Kenyan side of the border. That small river before Turmi was one of its many tributaries and if that was up I was told I'd be sure that the one before Illeret would be neck deep and impossible.
Provided I left Ethiopia that day it was fine for me to head there and check out the river provided I ran back out the border road to the West of the lake before the day was over if it was necessary. As it turns out that wasn't to be a problem. There was not a lick of water anywhere near that crossing. Committed, I passed through the final Ethiopian passport check and was into Kenya!