The Daily Telegraph - Saturday - Travel
Highs and lows on an Ethiopian quest
this week’s winner, learnt that it pays to keep the faith on a long trek to find a seventh-century cave church
‘We are close.” The words have become meaningless. Mohamed, my guide, has been saying them every five minutes for more than four hours.
This moment is symbolic of my time in Ethiopia. The country whispers that beguilement and adventure are just around the corner, but they never arrive in the form that you expect. Up to this point I have spent most of my time either waiting for a bus or feeling giddily nauseous.
Head down, I continue to slog up the dust-covered hill. The landscape pulsates with the sort of bone-frying, mind-fugging heat that makes you forget that it is possible to feel cold.
Just as I conclude that we must be doomed, Sisyphus-like, to climb this slope for all eternity, we reach a terracotta plateau that rolls up to a dagger-shaped peak. Thankfully, this is not our target. We slide right through a crack in the rock and arrive at a squat iron-bound wooden door. “He is not here.”
I cannot believe it. Dispirited, I flop into a precious patch of shade and sip tepid, metallic-tasting water.
Suddenly, Mohamed lets out a cry and points back the way we have just come.
A dark figure, clad in a long, flowing, white robe, is striding towards us. He carries a gnarled wooden staff in his left hand, and his greying beard is blown over his right shoulder by a breeze that seems to have sprung up precisely for that purpose.
When the priest reaches us, he sinks both of his hands into his robe. With one he pulls out a large, roughwrought key of exactly the type that should unlock a seventh-century cave church. With the other, he pulls out an iPhone.
“My cousin saw you start your journey and called me.”
I wince. His accent is American, with a faint Boston twang, and clashes horribly with the flowing Amharic of my imagination.
My churlishness vanishes in the cool of the church. The interior is primrose-yellow and covered with biblical paintings. The three wise men ride their camels across the vaulted ceiling in search of a distant star. John the Baptist preaches to a crowd that entirely covers one of the six monolithic pillars.
And Jesus himself, his dark eyes cartoonishly large, stares down at us from scenes depicting each of his triumphs and disasters.
Reed matting deadens the sound of our footsteps. By unspoken agreement we do not speak; breaking the silence would feel like an act of violence. I meander aimlessly and open-mouthed with wonder, enjoying the delicious prickle of sweat drying on my back.
Here, finally, is the Ethiopia that I have been searching for. Few travellers, I am sure, will have made it up to this high, deserted plateau and into this perfectly preserved church.
As we turn for home, I spot some oddly straight lines on the ground. They trace the shape of an H. The priest notes my quizzical expression.
“Helicopter pad. George W Bush was here just last week.”
Katie Parry,
PEOPLE
LIKE YOU
A HEAD FOR HEIGHTS
Kay Burley’s article (“Climb out of your comfort zone,” Nov 16) struck a chord with me. Passing the Church of Our Saviour in Copenhagen with my daughter, she decided to heed our guide’s advice and climb the 400 steps for the view.
Having been married for nearly 35 years to someone who can’t “do” heights, my confidence in this area has plummeted – and the guide’s comment that it feels like the stairs are “falling away” didn’t help.
My suggestion that I couldn’t keep up, and that a visit to the planetarium would be more interesting, was ignored. Volunteering to wait at the bottom with our bags didn’t work either, so I had no alternative but to hold on firmly, ignore my fears and start climbing…
The guide was right about one thing, though – the view was breathtaking. JENNY ATKINS WINS A £250 RAILBOOKERS VOUCHER
BIKING BRAVADO
I can empathise with Claire Irvin, as I have been in a similar position. Despite having only used my mountain bike to go to the local shops, I entered a competition in a bike magazine and found myself at the top of the Sospel downhill course in the Alps and expected to ride down.
Equipped with a helmet and full body armour, I was guided down by mountain bike world champions Fabien Barel and Tracy Moseley. I did go over the handlebars, but as soon as we reached the bottom we were whisked back up for another descent. In the end I conquered my fear and improved my bike skills.
I expect to hear about
Claire’s ascent of Snowdon in the new year.
CHRIS ALLEN
MISSING THE BOAT
I found your article, “Candid confessions of a cruise virgin,” Nov 9, depreciating. Your writer, Jon Holmes, was the wrong person to send on a Saga cruise. He seemed to think he was a “spring chicken” and all the other passengers had “one foot in the grave”.
No reference was made to the restaurant meals, one of the highlights of a cruise. The final nail in the coffin (no pun intended) was his habit of calling the magnificent ship a boat! A boat is a small vessel, a ship is a very large one. The captain would be appalled. JENNIFER BOOKBINDER
RENAISSANCE CITY
Adrian Bridge’s article about the fall of the Berlin wall (“It was joyful, euphoric and utterly crazy,” Nov 9) reminded us of our own visit. We used an all-inclusive city pass to hop on/off trams and buses, visiting museums and attractions to suit all tastes.
We marvelled at the micro cameras and listening devices from the Cold War at the German Spy Museum. The art installation of the Asisi Panorama, showing Die Mauer (the Wall) in the Eighties, sent shivers down my spine. At the magnificent Pergamon Museum, nothing prepares you for the huge market gate of Miletus, an amazing archaeological exhibit.
Going in October meant we caught the Festival of Lights. Every evening, buildings and landmarks have images projected on their facades in a kaleidoscope of colour – truly a city in renaissance. SHEILA LINGARD