Jared and Dianne

Similarly to Debark at the Simiens, Dinsho is not served by its own buses but the Robe and Goba buses pass through. Once again we had arranged for some guy to go to Robe the night before and save us a couple of seats. So at 4:30 in the morning we packed up a wet and icy tent and brought our fingers back to life as we plowed down the hill and into town. We stood on the side of the road waiting for a place to open for breakfast or the bus to arrive. As we did so Muzeyan came and met us. I had confirmed the day before that the black market rate was 8.25 birr to the dollar and I tentatively brought it up with him, he responded with a roundabout denial and I didn't bother with it any more. The bus arrived at a good time and we took off on route to Shasamene, the Ethiopian home of rastafarians. The trip was as smooth as could be hoped for and we rocked up in the early hours of the afternoon.

Wanting to keep moving if we could we asked around for a bus to Arba Minch. They had finished for the day and most people suggested we stay the night. Another option that sprung up was to bus it to Sodo then transfer to an Arba Minch bus. It sounded plausible and we ran with it. The trip took around 3 hours along a decent sealed road and we arrived just after 5. There was one bus left in the afternoon, the price was slightly inflated because of the time and our bums were sore so we decided this was far enough. A local that we had ridden the Shasamene-Sodo leg with pointed us in the direction of a tourist hotel and we grabbed a forty birr room. Still filthy from 5 days walking and no shower we were forced to go one more day without due to water issues in the hotel.

Sodo is a relatively large town/small city. It features on the Lonely Planet map but it doesn't rate a write up. This, as is often the case, made the city a more enjoyable experience. There were no hotel touts, prices weren't inflated and most of all, people were friendly.

We left our room as soon as we had dropped our bags. Partly because the room was a bit dank but mostly because our diet for the day had consisted of nothing but bread. We found a little cafe and nestled down into a corner table. With two short claps of the hands a waiter was waiting to take our order. They had no menus and as it turned out they only served bread. We had seen some on another table and it looked good, so disregarding my taste buds calls for change we ordered a few baguettes; they came out freshly cooked and piping hot. In fact they were so tasty that we ordered another two and without thinking I had spoiled my dinner (the three or four cokes I had consumed didn't help the matter).

Despite my bloated stomach's distressed moans Di was still hungry. The first place we tried for food was a rooftop terrace, but they served only cakes and drinks; so we had a juice. The second place was a cosy local's bar, but they served only tibs and drinks so we had a beer. We were seated at a table which was already occupied by another man, as is custom in Africa when there are none free. Initially the man we sat with didn't appear to speak English but it turned out that he actually spoke quite well and he was more than likely just considering our privacy. He was going to Arba Minch the next day, same as us. He was leading a university excursion there. I asked him if he had free seats, he replied "Yes" and offered us a ride. Unfortunately they weren't leaving until late in the day so we regretfully declined. I pulled one of those I don't want to do this but I just can't waste it faces as I drank down the warm dregs of my beer and we resumed the hunt. We searched the streets high and low for vegetable soup but the only place we could find it was in our own hotel and they were charging three times the going rate. We asked the waiter if he would translate soup into Amharic for us and we wandered the streets again, this time armed with at least the means to order the food. Again we failed. With our heads hanging low we returned to our hotel and Di ordered the soup. As if to apologise for the price the serving size was huge, the bread was plentiful and the waiter was super friendly. The first camp man we'd met in Ethiopia.

We didn't pull the blankets over us when we went to bed. A sign that the south was going to be hot.

According to the Lonely Planet map Dodola to Dinsho was only a small trundle so we woke late, bought some bread and meandered down to the bus station. Unfortunately no buses were leaving for a few hours. I climbed onto the roof of the bus and tied down our bags. As per usual this excites the locals and angers the bus man who is always hoping to make some quick cash. When I climbed down the locals all wanted to talk to me: "How many times have you been to Ethiopia, many I think?", "What do you like best about Ethiopia?" and as always "How is Ethiopia different to what you expected?". The last one always crops up because Ethiopians think that the portrayal of their country in the west is unjust. The image of dusty lands and starving children. Whilst the starving children have not been a common sight since the end of the Derg I think the dusty deserts are spot on. Still I always tell them what they want to hear and it makes them happy.

In the Simiens Di and myself to a lesser extent had found our hands becoming intolerably hot at night and cold and tingly during the day. It was a discomfort but we didn't think to much of it. It had reared up again in Dodola to the point of not being able to sleep at times. As we waited for the bus I could see that Di's problem had reached a whole new level. What had previously been a few bumps had turned into a severe rash covering most of her hands. As we were inspecting them so were the locals, "an allergic" some said. One of them wrote down some cream she should buy from the pharmacy. We were going no where in a hurry so she went to buy it straight away. She came back with a tube, it wasn't what the locals had said but something the pharmacist recommended. Di applied the cream and we waited for the bus to depart.

The road was bad, yet like no one else can, Di slept. I bounced along watching the new road under construction and thought that in three years time the road network in Ethiopia will be unrecognisable. A few calls of excitement went around the bus and I looked out the front window, catching site of a large troop of baboons running across the road. I woke Di, she gave an unenthusiastic "Wow" and went back to sleep. One of the men from the bus station who had got wind that I wasn't Christian came to sit next to me with every intention of converting me and thus, saving my soul. In highly religious countries I try to avoid the topic as much as I can but if confronted I never lie. So as he told me great things about Jesus I explained that I believe in science. I told him that I don't believe that Jesus was the son of god and he told me that if I didn't believe in Jesus then I couldn't go to heaven. So I took the time to tell him that I don't believe in heaven either. It was a passive discussion and those around that understood English listened in very intently. In the end I told him it was great that he had faith and no one should change his mind on that but no one was going to change my mind either, I am agnostic and none of the known religions add up for me. The conversation died off and I stared out the window again. I knew we were getting close to the national park because I followed some excited passengers eyes to see warthogs and deer at the end of their gaze.

We pulled into Dinsho which was even smaller than Dodola. A tout saw Di looking out the window and jumped onto the bus. He got the bus to pull over at the park entry and we walked a km or so to the lodge. There we met a guide called Jaffar with whom we planned out our six day expedition into the mountains. We also arranged with him to get money changed at the park office in the morning because it was a Sunday so the Dodola bank had been shut. The tout then showed us a shortcut into town and took us to the shops where we could top up our supplies. As we were doing so I ran into another guide who I had met in the Addis bus station. We agreed that he could be our guide if he organised it with Jaffar as his English was superior. We finished our shopping, had dinner and headed back into the park. We set up our tent in the dark and went to sleep. The Lonely Planet had suggested there would be "oodles of wildlife" where we camped but we only heard one warthog all night.

The next morning we went down to the lodge to enjoy a preprepared meal cooked by one of the workers there, Tsehay. We soon came to realise that Tsehay was a bit of a nuisance. She wanted to have our stove when we got back and cook our dinner for us, a bad deal considering we still needed the stove and it also disadvantaged us financially. Then she wanted to have a sauna ready for us when we got back, then she wanted to sell us cheese and so on. After breakfast our new guide Muzeyan came to collect us. we decided that Di should go into town with him and get bread and pay our fees whilst I packed up the tent. It was in this process that I found the "oodles of wildlife". I was walking up the hill to our tent and I saw several warthog families, very cute I thought and carried on. A hundred metres further along I saw a deerish like thing behind a tree, then two, three until I counted maybe five. I was a little bit nervous as they were very big and some of them had massive horns. I kept an eye on them as I walked along, I turned around to see where I was going and noticed I was standing about 10m from the biggest one of all. Taller than a horse and far more solid, with metre long horns it was an impressive sight. I then realised that it was a Nyala. Another endemic animal which is one of the main draw cards to the area. Still a little shaken I took a photo and walked around it to the tent. After packing up and walking back passed the Nyala to the lodge I sat on the balcony and watched someone take photos of some redbucks that were standing nearby.

I took a seat and watched the animals and people busy themselves around me. Soon enough Di returned from town saying Muzeyan was just getting our money changed on the black market because the park office couldn't help. After at least 90 minutes we had growing concerns about handing a months salary over to a stranger but our fears were releived when he came back with a wad of birr. He got a poor rate of 8 to the dollar but we didn't have much choice.

Due to the delay, time was running short so we grabbed our bags quickly and hurried off to meet the horse assistant and our horses. Di had chosen to ride again as her fitness levels were a bit lacking, not to mention the thoughts of our disasterous, high altitude experiences in South America. The pack horse was laden to the point that we felt guilty enough to get a second one. The Ethiopians abuse their horses enough and as tourists it was our job to lead by example.

Much like Dodola the path leading away from town was dusty and plain so I got chatting to the guide about different things, in particular life in Australia. We spoke for a while whilst Di's horse dragged its feet behind us. She was being left out so we doubled back and gave it a hurry on. We stopped for a vegemite and biscuit lunch at a small river whilst the pack horses caught up after being repacked. The landscape was not varying a great deal but we thought nothing of it. As we reached a large plateau at around 3400m Muzeyan said we should keep an eye out for ethiopian wolves. They are common in the area and are probably the main reason that the Bale mountains are frequented by foreigners. They are the rarest canid (dog) in the world and exist only in the Bale and Simien mountains, although rarely seen in the latter. Ten minutes later Muzeyan seemed to have given up on spotting them and said maybe we would see them later but not 2 minutes had passed and he called out "look wolf". I strained my eyes straight ahead but saw nothing courtesy of my dodgey eyes. Di spotted it immediately and drew my attention to its whereabouts. It was running along hunting molerats and barely raised an eyebrow at our presence. It even ran through a herd of cattle without much concern from either party. As it trotted off into the horizon we returned to the task at hand. The last hour of the day was relatively flat and we finished the 17km walk in roughly five hours, stopping for another wolf sighting along the way.

Expecting nothing but flat ground and maybe a long drop on arrival we were susprised to see two fully blown buildings at the site. It turned out that Phd students studying the wolf stayed here and as such had some basic amenities to facilitate their research. At the time we stayed it was home to only one researcher, from Holland, her name was Fraya. She was hospitipal to us and the night was a comfortable one. As I watched the sun go down from the verandah I saw a giant molerat. I had seen so many animals in one days I didn't know what else there could be.

Due to the cold nights we didn't wake in the morning until 8 o'clock. Even at this time the tent was soaking, inside and out, so after doing our best to dry it out we had to pack it away wet. The next day was of a similar duration to the first and still the landscape remained the same; nothing but dust and Giant Lobelias. We saw more wolves and I thought that its conspicuousness to humans was probably the cause of its endangered status. The Ethiopians have an amazing ability to wipe out everything in their way. Whilst originally housing the same flora and fauna as Kenya and Tanzania to the south they have managed to destroy the entire ecosystem. The only animals that survive are those that can't be caught and the only trees that are abundant are those that don't make good firewood, their solution... to plant foreign eucalyptus trees. Recent steps had been made to fix the issue but the numbers of people living inside parks is staggering. Hopefully in time things will improve and native species can be reintroduced, some parks to the south are already making good progress.

Camp for the second night was some terrible bumpy ground next to one of the guide's friends huts so the guide and the assistant could sleep comfortably. I was a little suspicious from its location that it wasnt the camp area at all, if there even was a designated spot. We cooked inside the hut and when Di went to bed I sat and chatted with the crew. The talk was small and boredom forced me to bed.

On day three we commenced the day with a climb we had been previously forewarned of. In my mind I had turned a molehill into a mountain so when it came time to actually tackle it the task was easy. The scenes surrounding us changed a little as massive lava flow formations increased in populus. A few times we saw klipspringer bounding effortlessly over the steep igneous rock and into the protection of the foliage behind.

In as little as three hours we stopped in at another hut and the horses were unpacked while the guide looked for springs. My temper had started to turn during the day as the guide had rushed us past the fauna; compunded by the fact that the walk was so short and that the guide had failed to point out much all day. Even worse was a dark thought in my head that told me the guide had taken a skimming from our US to Birr conversion and given us a false rate. We were tired of being told how to do our trip so we asked to head to the next camp that same day. Both the assistant and guide grudingly prepared and we shot off again. The trip was two hours and besides one amazing rock face formed by a huge unrecorded rock slide it was pretty uninspiring. I began to realise why tourism in the Bale mountains is so low this time of year.

I took the time along the way to try and get Muzeyan back on side. After all we didn't want to upset him, we just didn't want to whittle a day away. As we pondered our campsite Di and I discussed a few things that lead us to believe we were off-track so I pulled out the map and went over it with Muzeyan. Sure enough we were two days from where we wanted to be, a problem brought around by a communication error during the changing of the guides.

From the camp it was meant to be another two half day walks back to Dinsho. Now tired of the whole thing and completely confident in the fact that Bale was not our cup of tea we decided to head home in one day. The guide came up with a plan that would take us to the Sanetti Plateau as originally intended and still get us back on time. We agreed that his itinerary was suitable but Di's hands were getting worse and mine showed signs of following suit so we stuck to our guns. It was suggested that we should still pay for 6 days despite heading home in four. Di wasn't keen on the idea but I could see its merit so after some discussion we agreed.

The final day was a bit of a highlight, along with the wolf sightings. Partially due to the fact that we were heading back but mostly because of the high levels of fauna. In particular we say many Rock Hyraxes; an incredibly cute animal that looks something like a guinea pig crossed with a wombat. We sat and oggled a group for a while and as their confidence grew they came out of hiding and stared back. This is what we were there for and our spirits soared. We even learnt how to roll our r's, something neither Di or I had been able to do when learning spanish. We arrived into Dinsho during the nightly penning of the animals and the place was alive with domestic animals and their owners. We made plans with Muzeyan to do a half day walk to a place called Gayse the next day and said goodbye. Considering we still had food left we cooked for ourselves before setting up camp and heading to bed.

After making ourselves a protein rich noodle and egg breakfast we met Muzeyan before tramping 3km to Gayse. Expecting the wildlife to be in the hills we were greeted early by large numbers of Nyala, Redbuck, Bushbuck and warthogs in the fields. It was beautiful and Di and I regretted not planning our route better so as to focus it on the numerous animal species in the area. Beaten by the sting of the sun and our grumbling tummies we turned for Dinsho. The day had been good but it got even better when my parents called to check in and desuade us from entering into Kenya. Not a problem as we had already decided against it. This left Di out a little but her spirits were perked when her parents called from Argentina to see how things were going. Di's hands had deteriorated quite badly and as her father is a pharmacist most of the call was consumed with discussions of symptoms and cures. In the end our suspicions were confirmed, it was most likely a result of sea dwellers spending too much time at high altitudes. Grateful to know that the problem would pass and that we didn't need to spend any money on a quack she said goodbye and pulled out the cards.

For the first time we refused to arrive at the bus station on time. We were told to be at the bus at 5 but we knew there was no need. We got up around 4:30 and got ready. After a short walk to Charles De Gaulle Square and a 20 minute wait we found a shared taxi going to the bus station. It was a cold morning and I watched the bags on the roof and laughed with the locals about my inappropriate choice of footwear (Haviannas). The road south to Shasamene was superb and I dare say at times we reached 60 km/h. It was a dream run topped off by the fact that Di decided chocolate was a good choice of breakfast. Despite my protests to her opening it I still joined in. I even got a little sleep which is a rarity for me on buses over here.

The second half of the trip was not so smooth. In fact the road is notoriously bad. It was easy to handle though because we weren't going that far. The bus stopped on queue for us in Dodola and we disembarked into one of the dustiest towns we've visited. So much for the greener south. We found the Bale Mountain Motel and grabbed ourselves an awesome room where we enjoyed, without a doubt, the best shower in Ethiopia. Before it was too late we went to the guides's office and organised the team for our Dodola horse trek.

It wasn't until the morning that we met everyone and even then our guide waited twenty minutes to introduce himself. After loading the pack horse we mounted our own steads and headed out of town, leaving behind us a small crowd of helpers. The morning was long and dusty, it was simply a means of getting away from the town and into the forest. At one stage we had our horses cantering, which was actually quite hard. Horses here are sure footed and climb rocks like goats but they are as slow that old man driving his Volvo down the fast lane.

By lunchtime we had reached what was supposed to be the end point of the first day, or the start point for those with private vehicles. We stopped under the shade of a lone tree in the middle of a large meadow and chowed down on some Vegemite sandwiches. After the horses had recuperated we ascended into the forest. Within minutes we were surrounded by lush greenery, in particular the largest juniper trees in the world. They dominated the landscape, standing up to 15m tall with large weeping branches, a great respite from the beating Ethiopian sun. Regardless of the green above us the floor was still just a thick layer of micro-fine dust.

As we lost ourselves in the motion of the horses walking our guide spoke to us for one of the first times since we'd left, "look monkeys". Sure enough in the tree above us was a large group of Colobus monkeys, hanging rather nonchalantly from the branches. We stood and stared for a while but they were uncharacteristically quiet. Still monkeys are always a pleasure to see and we rode off with smiles on our faces. During the climb to our first night's campsite, Wahoro, we spotted several more Colobus families obviously sapped by the heat. When we arrived it was mid afternoon and we looked around for the so called campsite. It was clear from the lack of flat ground that most people opt to stay in the lodges set up along the way. Determined to save a few birr we put up our tent at the only suitable spot, right in front of the steps to the lodge.

The rest of the afternoon turned out to be one of the highlights of our trip to date. As we were setting up our beds for the night the locals all started arriving to check out the faranjis. Whilst none of the women came over, most of the children and men from the nearby village were present. Di pulled out a rubbery, spongy ball from her bag which her mum had given her to give to some kids. A little boy of about 18 months by the name of Hiko was the first recipient. He just stared blankly at it whilst everyone encouraged him to kick it, he had one swing and fell flat on his ass. Another boy and girl jumped on the opportunity to grab the ball and have a play but it wasn't long until the grown ups and adolescents usurped the game and in no time at all we were playing hacky-sack with it. Horses for courses I thought and I grabbed a real hacky-sack from my bag. This caught the adults attention and the kids had their ball back. One by one the fathers returned home to their duties and we continued to play with the kids. Ball kicking, whizzy dizzies and other children's favorites ensued (only these kids had never played them before). As time went by Hiko got his hands back on the ball much to our entertainment. As he honed his skills from always missing to sometimes connecting he took dozens of tumbles. To add to the amusement his only items of clothing were a jumper and gumboots (wellingtons) so whenever he fell, everyone got a glimpse of his gear and he added a new patch of red to his bum. It was a perfect afternoon and both the kids and ourselves retreated at night fall for some recovery time.

Our guide had been sleeping and when he woke he explained to us that he was really sick. Feeling mixed emotions towards him, one of sympathy and one of annoyance at him coming when he was sick we discussed what we should do. He said it was no problem and that we should go on and so it was settled. We cooked our dinner inside the lodge and sat around the enclosed fire eating it. It had been a good day and we thought to ourselves, this must be what Ethiopia was like before the new generation had been spoiled by foreign aid.

Each day we rode a different horse and had a different horse assistant. This way each area receives some benefit from the tourist dollar, not just the major towns. This meant that each morning we needed to come up with a new name. The first day in true nerd style I named my horse Gandalf because he was grey, the second, no less nerdy I called Wolverine because he was a hairy beast. Each day we just called the pack horse was just called pack horse or packy for short. Pack horse was always the disobedient horse which ran away and farted far too regularly.

So as Wolverine and I took of on a fresh new day I increasingly became aware of my mistake and Wolverine's problem. He always walked sideways; down hills, along sheer drops, everywhere. At points I was sure he was going to fall off the edge and so I dismounted and walked. Peg leg would have been a much better name. I thought he must have had saddle sores or his girth belt (rope) was too tight but there didn't seem to be a problem there.

As the day continued our guide got sicker and he didn't say much at all. At Angafu, our second campsite our guide went straight to bed. We set up camp and had another kick of the hacky-sack. As we were trying to work out how to light the kerosene lanterns and where we could find some firewood another faranji and her crew walked through the door. Her name was Maria, she was a Swedish Phd student studying fire in Ethiopia. Our destination for the night was her home. It was an interesting night as we discussed everything ranging from Australian immigration policy to Swedish television tax. As the night was drawing to a close our guide called me into his room and said that he was too sick to continue. He offered us a few choices, none of which were all that great. In the end it was decided that one of Maria's helpers would call back to base in the morning, our guide would head off for Dodola and we would await a new guide. Then due to time lost we would only be able to travel to the closest lodge. It was particularly annoying because the guide was superfluous as any horse assistants could have shown us the way blindfolded. Still the rules were that the guide is mandatory, so we had to wait.

In the morning we handed over our mobile to Maria's worker and awaited results. Not long after midday our guide came trudging through the lodge gates, said hello and put some tea on to boil. After a quick break he was ready to roll again. We walked the route to Adele in two hours, along the way the guide pointed out many of the surrounding floras and their uses. The most dominant tree, other than the Juniper was the Hygenia, an Ethiopian endemic which the locals laden with bee hives for honey collection. The area surrounding the Adele lodge was picture perfect and the camping was flat. After getting ourselves set up for the night we pulled out the hacky-sack once more but the sun was baking hot so we retreated to the shade of the lodge for the only other form of entertainment, cards. We asked the guide to teach us a new game but it was so overwhelmingly mindless that it made War look like Bridge. A little later two of the local boys came to visit, so by chatting, cooking and eating we passed the time.

For the 2nd time in a row Di had first pick of the horses and I was left with 4-Speed. After Wolverine I had reserved the naming of my horse until I had had the time to judge him. 4-Speed was named due to his capacity to travel at exactly 4 speeds. There was no variation of walking speeds for example, it was always a slow plod. His gear range included: a slow walk, a jog (with very worn synchro), a trot and a canter.

For the fourth day we had our metaphorical compass pointing towards Mololicho, the site which was to be the previous nights stopover in the original plan. The route there was beautiful and diverse as we drifted out of the forest and into wild flower covered open plans before returning back into the cover and coolness of the trees.

As we rode into camp Di and I both noticed the same thing immediately, chickens. Chickens meant eggs and eggs meant a good breakfast. The guide ran off to see if the owner had any to sell, she did but the price was sky high so we only bought two. The lodge itself was similar to the previous ones but it was set aside by its large patio area which was a welcome addition for avoiding the savage Ethiopian sun. Routine was setting in and the night was unremarkable. Our guide asked us if we would hire him a horse for the next day because the trip was long. We offered him his 80 birr tip (4 days of the average Ethiopian income) in advance to spend as he liked. Low and behold when the horses arrived the next day there was only mine, Di's and Packy. All three horses were big and fit which was lucky as the route to Adaba was over 20km.

Ironically we began the ride by walking down the first hill which was too steep for the horses to navigate with us on their backs. After the first descent we basically followed a long straight open valley all the way to town. This afforded us the opportunity to canter as much as we liked. Every time we did so the horse assistant would turn and watch us with a smile on his face. As he did I would often muse to myself that he looked a lot like a dark monkey magic. The pace we set was cracking and I offered the guide to use my horse on an hourly rotation basis. He said thank you but in reality he rode very little. By afternoon Di had irritated thighs and we slowed things down a little. As the valley opened up into a large, sparse, flat dusty plain we saw another tree laden with Colobus monkeys. These ones were far more active than those on the first day and we sat and watched them for a good 15 minutes before dragging ourselves away.

We arrived in Adaba in the peak of the weekly market fever. It was possibly one of the most horrible experiences in Ethiopia. We felt like freaks being paraded around at a circus. As we sat high on the horses, visible to everyone, some people in the crowd began calling out and jeering as those around them laughed. Keen to get down from the horses we did so as soon as possible. We paid for the assistant and I said goodbye to Stucky who I had named after his four black socks. We found a nice hotel but they were asking too much and to be honest we'd had enough of Adaba and its inhabitants. So we had two options, go to Dinsho for the Bale trekking or head back to Dodola. Transport to Dinsho was hard to find and with depleting levels of Birr, Dodola was the only nearby town with a bank to change our US. Dodola it was.

Keen to get back to the best shower in Ethiopia after 5 days of dust we jumped off the bus and headed straight for the motel. The double rooms were taken so we shelled out the extra for a twin. I eagerly plugged in the hot water and had a beer while it heated up. With great disappointment I noted that the cold tap was broken. Oh well, the manager had the perfect solution, a cold bucket shower. It was not what I had in mind so I used it in combination with the stinking hot shower water to make something bearable of it. As the hot water level dropped the shower water cooled and I got a good minute of rinsing time. It wasn't a dream come true but it was far better than nothing. Happy to let someone else do the cooking we ate in the restaurant and went to bed without an alarm. Bliss.

We were back in Addis, this time with experience and confidence on our side. The first lesson we had learnt from our previous visit was not to stay were we did. This time around we opted to stay in the Piazza area, close to the bus station and restaurants. The first two hotels we tried were full and the third had vacancies (with reason). Still the room was sufferable and we took it.

Desperate to get our full of decent food we underwent an eating freny consisting of three cooked meals a day and it began with the first dinner.

Hoping to get in and out of Addis losing only one day we had a few things to take care of. Most importantly, we wanted some easy meals to cook for our camping in the south. With this in mind we used a mini-van/foot combination to access Bole road, a sort of expat hang out. With such territory comes supermarkets selling western foods like noodles and pesto. So after loading up our bags with food supplies (including a block of smarties chocolate) we went in search of a replacement stove. None too easy to find on a Sunday and so we finished empty handed. We dropped everything off at our hotel and caught a van to the bus station where we pre purchased our tickets to Robe with the intention of jumping off early in Dodola.

That night we made a reluctant decision to meet with the guy who had helped us out at our first bus station visit. I say reluctant because at some stage he turned from nice guy to stalker. Calling us every second day, asking when we'd be back in Addis and then abruptly saying good bye. Regardless he had helped us out and done nothing wrong so we said we'd meet him for a pizza dinner. The food was good and it was good to converse with Sisay. Everything was normal and we felt bad for thinking of screening him. Then just as we were about to say good bye there came an awkward period where he kind of asked for money and we kind of said no. He looked like he was going to cry and we walked away. You get nothing for nothing in Ethiopia and if anyone is particuarly nice to you then you can be sure they want something.

Having pre purchased our tickets to Addis all we had to do was show up at 6 the next morning. If it wasn't for the free ride we got from the hotel owners friend that would've meant close to a one hour walk with the packs. Fortunately it didn't come to that as I woke up with a tummy bug. With hesitation I boarded the bus, praying I could hold out for the never missed brunch break. For the second time in Ethiopia we shared the bus with farenjis; two girls who were volunteering at a school in the capital. Fortunately I arrived at Woldia with clean pants, despaerately wantinga european toilet to make an unpleasant experience as bearable as possible but nothings that easy in africa and beggars can't be choosers so I settled for a squat.

For fear of repercussions I skipped the food options and reboarded the bus. An uneventful bus ride landed us for the night in a town called Dessie. The bags were supposed to be left on the bus all night and we begrudgingly agreed to leave them there. So toothbrushless we souight out a room. Despite having no endearing features and many hotels vacancies were scarce so we wound up in a relatively overpriced yet affordable room.

We arrived at 5am the next morning as instructed and left after 6 as expected. The day passed smoothly and we arrived in Addis with time to spare.