Getting out of Bahia Dar wasn’t as simple as we expected. We really wanted to leave the next day, but the only available coach we could find left the day after. No big deal, right? But we’d already lost so much time waiting for my Sudanese visa! So we booked the coach as a backup, then got up at 0330 the next morning to pack and try our luck at the bus station.
What’s the worst that could happen?
We arrived at the station just before it opened at 0430. The ticket windows looked like jail cells filled with angry convicts.
We managed to procure tickets for a “bus level 1”. This is a step down from a coach, but a step up from a minibus — imagine a school bus with a 3,2 seat layout and little room for luggage. It doesn’t stop as often as a minibus but more than a coach, so we’d have options. We joined the throng waiting for the gates to open.
With a little help from friendly strangers, we found our bus and clung to it, waiting patiently for it to leave — ideally, with us on board. Finally at around 0600 we departed. Dave and I shared a bench seat on the “2” side. There wasn’t enough room for us to sit side-by-side, so we had to split the entire 11.5 hour ride either twisting or leaning forward/back for shoulder room. We were absolutely ready for the lunch stop when it came.
We opted for bread instead of more injera, but the lamb was very tasty again and it turned out to be one of the best bus-stop meals we’ve had. It was a quick one though, as we had a long ride ahead of us and the bus wasn’t going to wait forever.
In the mountains, we formed a caravan with another bus level 1 ahead. Perhaps it was for protection from the vicious local wildlife?
This baboon actually seemed to be one of a family in search of food. Older males and little babies clinging to mother were all out and about.
When we finally reached the outskirts of Addis Ababa, civilization seemed to return. We saw houses, crowds, workers, shops, even recycling vehicles.
Finally we were off the bus! It’s never been so nice to put on a couple heavy bags and walk 3 km (2 mi).
Unable to pre-book anything, we found an area with a few hotels and tried our luck, one by one. A rather expensive one finally agreed to give us a discount and we took the elevator to our room. It was on a much higher floor than we’d yet visited in Africa.
This was an example of the wealthy, fancy face of Addis Ababa. But in between the ritzy hotels and restaurants, there are slums where the downtrodden and working class live. Seeing them side-by-side was eye-opening.
Addis was just a stop on the way to Kenya, but it wasn’t the last one. By 0500 the next morning we were on the street headed for Autobus Terra. The taxi driver we found wanted a ridiculous fare so we laughed at him and walked away. He recovered and followed us, dropping his ask until we were satisfied and piled in.
Somehow we ended up on a bus without any tickets or planned destination. If we could get to Moyale or Yabelo, we could turn 3 nights of travel into 2 and claw another day back!
14 hours later, the sun was setting and we were walking on the dusty street of Yabelo, Ethiopia in search of a place to sleep. I use the singular intentionally — it reminded me of a spaghetti western, the one-road town of the American Old West.
Near the end of the street, we found a “hotel” and bar with a name we couldn’t pronounce. We stepped inside. The bar was in front: everyone was watching the news, including World Cup footage. One of the locals said I looked like Messi.
We each got a room in the little hotel courtyard behind the bar. The rooms were very small and could only fit one, you see.
The doors were heavy metal jobs with padlocks. We set our alarms, said our good nights, and turned in for the night.
The alarms went off and we got up around 0500. The power was out, so we packed to leave with our head torches. As I finished zipping my bag Dave walked up and dropped the bomb: we were locked in. There was nobody around to let us out, either.
The doors to the bar were shut up tight, and a little dirt alley alongside had a 3 meter (10 foot) tall metal gate with another padlock. Getting a purchase on the fence and bar exterior, we could probably climb it but our bags would be a struggle.
So I started climbing. Somehow (I couldn’t see it) Dave got my heavy bag up and over the gate and I was lowering it and myself to the ground when someone saw us and came over to unlock the gate. We were free! … with no idea where to go.
Wandering back down the main street, we noticed a steady trickle of buses leaving from a little side street. We followed it upstream and eventually found the station. There was a small level 1 bus heading towards Moyale, the Kenyan border crossing, and we managed to get aboard.
Next time: Take the risk, let it ride!
P.S. Dave says: “What have you got in your bag?”