Cool Facts about the Simien Mountains:
- Also called the Roof of Africa, the highest peak is Ras Dejen at 4,533 m.
- Simien means “north” in Amharic and “south” in Ge’ez. When Axum was the capital of Ethiopia, the range was to the south. When the capital moved and the language changed, so did the meaning of the name.
- The range was created between 40 and 25 million years ago before the Rift Valley was a thing.
- The majority of the Simien Mountains is the detritus of a shield volcano. Basaltic lava piled up over the existing sandstone and limestone, which was pushed up and around by volcanic activity and then eroded by the elements over time, carved out like so many marbled chess pieces.
- Wildlife found in the Ethiopian highlands: Abyssinian wolf, Walia ibex, gelada or bleeding-heart monkey, and lots of terrifying, prehistoric-looking birds: giant pied crows, thick-billed ravens and creepy vultures.
- Gelada monkeys only live in the Simien mountains. Often called baboons (but aren’t), they are the only living members of the genus Theropithecus, which comes from the Greek: beast-ape.
We hired a 4×4 jeep and a driver from our hotel for an excursion into the Simien Mountains. I have an injured knee, wonky arthritic joints and I don’t like hiking, so it was only a day trip for us. My joints were already in a state from being crammed on buses for so many hours, but I hoped a little bit of a nature walk might do me some good.
Bright and early in the morning, again, we set out in the jeep. It was Market Day so there were loads of donkeys plodding along, weighted down with all manner of things: teff, wood, huge sacks of grain and sugar cane. Getting out of Gondar was an obstacle course of donkeys, pedestrians, potholes, vans and trucks and cars and bajajs.
We stopped along the way a couple of times to take pictures and each time, children ran up to ask for money and say hi to the faranjis. Our driver made fun of me for being wrapped up in a hoodie and scarf, even though I’m Canadian and no one else was cold and it’s Sub-Saharan Africa. What can I say? I’m a bad Canadian.
It was a three-hour drive to Debark, where we paid the entrance fee and picked up a guide and a scout. The guide was young and brimming with energy. We learned later that it was his first day. The scout was our protective detail. He sat in the back of the jeep, rifle slung across his lap, chewing khat. The three men filled the jeep with chatter. Road conditions declined considerably when we entered the park; our driver called it the “African massage”.
Once in the park, we were dropped off to walk for a couple of hours along the table top of the escarpment, winding through the alpine forest, and looking out into the valley of dusty taupe and muted greens and blues. Bumblebees like tiny fuzzy 747s zoomed around in Acacia trees. White Abyssinian wild roses and indigo globe thistles were in full bloom. The scout walked behind us, and I spent all day trying to figure out a way to lose him so I could go pee in the bushes. In the end, I was in such a rush, I nearly sat down in a bramble of thistles. Do not recommend.
Gelada monkeys are the only monkeys I’ve ever met that aren’t jerks. We found two troupes and each time, they completely ignored us. They busied themselves, grunting and squealing, with digging around in and eating grass. They have little leathery faces, shaggy red-gold hair and diamond-shaped bald patches on their chests. For males, the patch denotes where they are in the pecking order with the alphas having bright red patches and low-status boys with light pink patches. In the females, the shade of red indicates where they are in their estrus cycle. The full-grown males looked like miniature lions.
After lunch, we went for a quick walk to a waterfall, down a rolling hill and over a terribly narrow stone bridge. We emerged into a little clearing on the lip of a bowl-shaped section of the scarp that looked like it had been scooped out with an ice cream scooper. A skinny waterfall shot out from the opposite side, glittering with rainbow spumes. A huge thick-billed raven waddled out from the underbrush and just about scared the pants off me. Aptly named, it had a tremendous beak, shiny obsidian feathers and a white patch on the back of its head. It shuffled around, found a good spot and then launched itself into the caldera, gliding in wide, lazy circles with the vultures, all dark smudges against the rock face.