Ras Dashin: Day 3

I awoke the morning of day three and could sense the worst was behind me. I was feeling close to normal, and excited for the day. We would walk for about an hour uphill, six hours downhill, and finish with another hour uphill. During that time, there would be breaks for rest, pictures, and lunch. I was relieved to have a less strenuous day and Dajin assured me, the day would help me acclimatize. While I would not exactly called Dajin supportive, he told me stories of people having much worse cases of elevation sickness who made it to the top. I learned that elevation sickness is not a logical illness. Just because I was hit by it at 13,000 feet did not necessarily mean it would affect me at 15,000 feet. 

There were certain moments of the day, and of the trip, where it felt like we were as far from civilization as possible. Sitting on a ridge overlooking endless beauty, it was easy to forget this is routine for people. There was one such moment as we peaked after the first hour. We looked around at the skyline, mountains, and monkeys and felt so isolated. Suddenly, a shepherd and all his sheep appeared, knock us back into place. Just another day of work for this man.

Now, walking downhill for six hours felt like a huge relief at first. The further down we went, the thicker the air. Our muscles were given a reprieve. The day was a recipe for ease. But as we learned, walking downhill has its own set of problems. While we did not need to stop for breaks, we had to go extremely slow. The terrain was slippery gravel and it seems like every few minutes there was the familiar sliding sound of someone taking a spill. Most of the time, we were able to catch ourselves. Few true falls (that day, defined as ground/butt contact) occurred. But looking down a mountain and loosing your footing gives you pause to say the least. As I was falling asleep that night, I kept being jolted awake with the sensation of slipping. I mentioned this to Danielle the next day and she experienced the same feeling. Even still, I would not have traded it for uphill. 

At about 1:00, we arrived at a small town where we would eat lunch. It felt like being in an old western. I am sure to the average forenji coming through, the town might be a highlight of the trip. It felt like half the town came by to look at us. Adorable children with no pants yelled hello. But, I have seen enough children with no pants for a lifetime. It was nice to see a little town tucked away in the middle of no where but it was noteworthy for one reason: t’ella*. Yayu mentioned there was special t’ella sold in the town. Some of our group (mainly some of the boys) really wanted to try it. We bought a pitcher and all drank a bit. It tasted good, but one drink was enough for me. It was extremely thick and I questioned the cleanliness of the water used to make it. The pitcher was eventually finished and, perhaps as a result, Joe and Zach were extremely talkative for the next hour or so.

*T’ella is home brewed beer. It is very common throughout the country and you can count on drinking some every holiday. But this rural area was supposed to have a style of t’ella not found anywhere else in the country.

 

As we took a short break before the last hour of the day, Yayu showed off his jumping skills. He effortlessly jumped a six-foot gap and landed on wet rocks. This just simply added to the lore that was slowly becoming Yayu. He also encouraged Michael and Zach to give it a try. They made it with success, much to the chagrin of Dajin.

Once we arrive to camp, we cleaned up and ate dinner. We stayed up talking for quite a bit. We would be at that campsite for the next two nights and luckily, it was fairly warm. We were able to enjoy the evening without being wrapped in blankets. We called it a night and enjoy some sleep knowing the next day was Ras Dashin: the top of Ethiopia.