Day 12 Millie to Debrebirkan.( The longest day) Jim Quirke

Another Ethiopian day dawned in upper Millie with clear blue skies and the local taxis plying their trade up and down the badly surfaced road. A horse or pony pulling a wobbly seat mounted on two car wheels, and usually covered with a piece of material or umbrella , that is a taxi in Millie or indeed in most of rural Ethiopia. We had seen the Green Hotel sign posted for some miles previously to arriving in Millie the previous evening.

Amid some confusion and the usual crowd of curious onlookers we had been directed to a green galvanized door, which was speedily opened for us. We were welcomed in typical Ethiopian fashion. John was just about to ask the proprietor about the availability of rooms when Ambrose and myself got between the two of them and asked instead if he sold beer. Kimmo despite a week of exposure to the Irish mindset seemed surprised at our priorities. When we explained to him that if the second answer was negative, and the first answer being positive it would be much easier to deal with. Puzzled once again by Irish logic he at once realized that it was going to take time. The proprietor was only too happy to reassure us that he had both rooms and beer. The entire hotel consisted of a gravel and stone yard surrounded on two sides by a small single storey building with a corrugated iron roof. This building housed the rooms, each of which opened into the yard. The room, each of which was about ten feet square contained a bed, a mosquito net, a chamber pot, and a bottle of water. Having inspected the rooms, four milk crates were produced to sit on and four cool bottles of St. George arrived. The proprietor after each round retreated to the shadows in the corner of the yard to await our next summons. One can only wonder what he thought as our renditions of Kevin Barry and Galway Bay drifted out into the desert.

Six o clock arrived quickly. John and Kimmo as usual were the first to surface. After giving them every chance to get familiar with the area Ambrose and myself cautiously peered out. The view from one side of the yard was absolutely spectacular. The desert stretched into the distance full of boulders and little or no vegetation. Way down under us ran a small river meandering lazily. Along its banks we could see many people washing clothes and indeed themselves. After getting a cold shower in a cubicle in one corner of the yard we had a breakfast of warm beans and injira bread, which had been baked for us. We were also treated to a pot of Ethiopian Coffee, which as usual was prepared in front of us.

Kimmo and John as usual were sitting on the bikes first and ready to go. Ambrose meanwhile put on and took off his helmet several times in a practice that Kimmo had come to accept as skuttering about. Having settled the bill, which came to a total of twenty-four dollars for the four rooms and twenty-two bottles of beer and packed the bikes we set out on our journey for another day. After traveling for about ten kms. we came to a crossroads. Here we had a choice of traveling down to Addis two ways. One would have brought us on a direct rout through the desert to Addis. The other was through the mountains and close to the legendary Lalibela and the twelve rock churches.

Through the Abyssinian highlands and over some of the most spectacular scenery in Ethiopia. It was agreed that we would chose the latter rout. After four or five kms. the road disappeared to be replaced by a dirt track of stones and gravel and sand. Having had little or no experience of off road riding I braced myself for what was to come. Occasionally groups of people would run to the track from some unseen place when they would see us approaching. The temp had now approached forty deg. For me it was taking a huge effort to keep up the pace as the surface was treacherous. From time to time a youth, perhaps of sixteen or seventeen would appear with an AK47 casually slung over their shoulder, but they seemed oblivious to their western travelers. It was particularly difficult to pass the many trucks and buses that were going our direction. One could see in the distance a dust cloud and then had to make a decision as to whether it was coming our way or going with us. If it was coming towards us when it approached it was much better to try and get off the track as they would inevitably not stop and anyway when they passed the world disappeared for a few minutes in a swirl of dust. When passing a lorry or bus it was vital to establish if there was another in the area because visibility totally disappeared until you were past. Having established a routine for passing and meeting, I was starting to enjoy this new challenge.

At one point on the road the other three had gone ahead and there were a few children gathered to stare at us as we passed. I stopped to greet them. One youngster of perhaps ten who had four or five copybooks shoved one towards me. Looking perhaps for my autograph. Delighted I produced a pen and opened a page. He took his copy back and then directed me to a particular page. Still undeterred I proceeded to sign my name. On closer examination of what I had assumed was an Amharic Script I read. …Hello my name is Ambrose Blaine .I am from Ireland and I am going to Addis Abba. Oh well, I wasn't going to be his first Irish entry.

After perhaps two hours of battling with the harsh terrain, the stifling dust and the unstoppable buses and trucks a very basic restaurant was spotted on our right. It consisted of four poles and a straw roof. Coca Cola was available as was tea and coffee. We ordered four Colas and four Coffees. An occasional truck or bus driver parked on the track and came and drank tea in the shade. A young girl got green coffee beans, roasted them on a piece of tin over some charcoal. She then put the roasted beans into a pestle which she vigouresly hammered with the half shaft from a small truck. Having drunk the tiny cups of coffee we encountered another problem. They were unwilling to accept dollars, or for that matter any money other than Ethiopian. A passing bus had to be stopped, the dollars verified and the rate of exchange clarified, all for less than a euro.

Shortly after we commenced our journey again the track started to corkscrew steadily upwards. Within a short time we were at a height of five thousand feet. Here we bought petrol from some people who were primarily selling Diesel but filled our bikes from the contents of drums that they were willing to sell us. The name of this town was Kembolcha and was full of hustle and bustle. We met a German tourist here who was touring Ethiopia on a bus and was on his way to Lalibella having left Addis two days previously. Ambrose and myself when we got Johns and Kimmos back turned slipped into a small cake shop where we had seen nice cakes in the window. No sooner had we been seated and given an order for cakes but our two friends arrived and reluctantly agreed to waste time drinking more coffee and eating some sticky buns with us. Little did we know the ordeal that lay ahead of us before we would finally put another day behind us? Little did we know also how difficult the terrain was shortly to become.

After leaving Kanavlacha we gradually began to climb again. Through fertile valleys, lush fields, prosperous villages, well dressed kids and adults. Sheep, camels, cattle, goats and horses. People walking, talking, staring, waving, trying to stop us to talk. Someone once said you can judge a country by its children. If that is true then Ethiopia is a reasonable happy country. Yes there is poverty but its not overwhelming. A saying in Ireland sometimes goes like this,,, "Would you like to wake up with a crowd around you?" Well that's exactly what happened. Ambrose and myself possibly as a result of consuming too many cakes or possibly as a result of too many St. Georges the previous night were feeling very tired. On a straight stretch of road we pulled in and got off the bikes. We then lay down side-by-side on the grass and proceeded to fall asleep. After what was probably only ten minutes I awoke to find a ring of people around talking and pointing at us. On sitting up they moved back a little. Unfortunately not understanding Amharic we could only guess what they were saying about their European visitors. After being invited into a local house to see bread being made we once again were on our way. Shortly down the road we met John and Kemmo who had come back to look for us. Once again the foursome were on their way.

Despite the fact that we were now at six thousand feet the mountains rose steadily in front of us and the trail got narrower. The sky had also assumed a black mantle and the rain now began to fall. We put rain gear on and continued. Darkness had also fallen. As we pressed on through the blackness the road had become a mud bath and the lights barely showed the way. We were now meeting the occasional truck and bus but they were in the middle of the track, as the drivers didn't want to risk slipping off. Progress was now slow and the rain was beating down. The precarious track gave way on one side to a sheer drop, of how far we had no idea. There were no barriers or signs. As we reached a height of ten thousand feet, tired and exhausted and cold we came upon a dark village with black figures darting too and fro.

Half way up through this village a faint light shone through an open door. The bikes were parked and we entered. In what could be a scene from Dante's Inferno we found ourselves in the middle of what was obviously an Inn of sorts. There was hay on the floor. Charcoal burned in a bucket. There were shelves of unlabeled bottles, both brown and white. Toothless grinning faces peered at us, many well under the influence. A glass the size of an eggcup was trust into my hand filled with a clear liquid. It smelt foul. Closing my eyes and with a sharp intake of breath I swallowed it,whew!!! Paint stripper would have been better. John and Kemmo had beaten a hasty retreat towards the door. At once it became clear to Ambrose and myself why they were leadership material and we weren`t. Meanwhile Ambrose was doing his "roving reporter" role. Interviewing all and sundry. The fact that the locals spoke Amharic and he didn't didn't seem to matter. The others meanwhile were sitting on the bikes ready to go.

Even though we were at an altitude of close to ten thousand feet in the darkness way up above us we could see the faint glimmer of lights sneaking along the precarious track. It was now raining heavily and the air was very cold and damp. The rain was turning to sleet as we left on the upward path. We continued onwards and upwards. It had now been dark for almost four hours but the trundle of trucks and busses continued. The lights of the bikes barely showed the way. The trail was now strewn with rocks sand and boulders. We also passed through an occasional tunnel hewn out of solid rock. There was one tunnel of about half a kilometer long, which was littered with loose gravel and rocks. It was also full of foul smelling diesel fumes and no means of extraction. As we continued onwards our speed was down to a few kms. per hour. Careful to avoid going too near the edge on the hairpin bends.

After what seemed like an eternity the climb had ceased and we were at a height of ten thousand seven hundred feet. Lights appeared in the distance. A sign said that we were coming into Debhar Birhan. As we entered the small highland town we clearly saw two hyenas off to our right from the road. The town was badly light but finally after calling to one small hotel, which was full, we managed to locate another small hotel that had free rooms. The gate was opened and we were admitted into a small yard. After having inspected the spartan rooms we decided to spend the night there. To be truthful the accommodation would want to have been truly awful before we would have declined it.

Kimmo after dumping his gear in the room decided to have a shower. Running from the shower wearing nothing but a towel he announced to all that there was blue flashes and sparks coming from the electrics right inside the shower and he had been almost electrocuted. After enquiring if food was available we were told that it was. On entering the kitchen a foul smelling blob of meat was produced from a freezer. Instead we decided to cook some beans and noodles in the yard on the stoves that we carried. We sat outside in the cold wrapped up and the only demand that we made on the kitchen was that they supply us with some St. George beers. And so another day on our journey was coming to an end.

As we sat around eating Beans and noodles and drinking Ethiopian beer it was hard to imagine as we sat in this freezing mountain top village that two days previously the temp. had been up in the forties and the land had been pure desert. Ethiopia so far had been a land of great contrasts, from deserts to lush valleys and from arid mountains to lush valleys.

One other enduring image of Northern Ethiopia is also the sight of Muslims and Christians peacefully coexisting together. Many times as we traveled through the towns and villages Muslims could be seen both coming to and going to prayer undisturbed by their Christian neighbors. Perhaps there are lessons to be learned there.

News report courtesy of Jim Quirke