Into the Roof of Africa

Seven days. That’s how long I spent navigating the jagged peaks and deep valleys of the Simien Mountains, walking mile after mile along ancient paths carved by time, wind, and the quiet persistence of those who have lived here for centuries. I carried only what I needed, trusting my guide, Eshetu, and a couple of tenacious mules to carry the rest. From the moment we left the last village behind, the modern world felt impossibly distant.

The Simien Mountains are not loud or dramatic in the way many famous trekking destinations are. They don’t announce themselves with crowds or infrastructure. Instead, they unfold slowly. Every ridge reveals another vast, silent expanse, every turn of the trail seems to stretch the horizon even further away. There were moments when the scale of the landscape made me feel impossibly small — and others when it felt like the mountains were inviting me in.

The Silence of the Peaks

At nearly 4,000 meters above sea level, the air is thin enough that every step demands intention. Breathing becomes rhythmic, almost meditative, and conversation fades naturally. What replaces it is silence — not emptiness, but a living stillness filled with wind, distant bird calls, and the soft crunch of boots against volcanic rock.

Mornings began before sunrise. Frost coated the tents, and our breath formed small clouds as we drank coffee warmed over a crackling fire. As the sun climbed higher, it painted the cliffs in gold and copper, revealing layers of rock that looked older than memory itself. By midday, the light softened, and the vastness of the escarpment stretched endlessly beneath us.

Our Route

Each day brought its own character, its own challenges and rewards:

1. Sankaber to Geech — A gentle introduction to the escarpment, where the valleys first open and the sense of scale becomes undeniable. The trail hugs the cliffs, offering views that seem to fall forever.
2. Geech to Chennek — A demanding day, marked by long climbs and the breathtaking IMET GOGO viewpoint, where the land drops away so suddenly it feels like standing at the edge of the world.
3. Chennek to Ambiko — The emotional heart of the trek, descending into valleys before climbing again toward the foothills of Ras Dashen, Ethiopia’s highest peak.

“The mountains don’t care about your fitness. They care about your heart. You have to want to see what’s on the other side of that ridge.”
— Eshetu, Local Guide

Encountering the Geladas

One afternoon, as we rounded a bend in the trail, we found ourselves surrounded by a vast troop of Gelada baboons — easily two hundred of them. They sat calmly on the grasslands, grooming one another, mothers cradling infants, males displaying their unmistakable red chests.

What struck me most was their indifference. They didn’t flee or challenge us. We were simply another part of the landscape, temporary visitors passing through their world. I sat quietly among them for nearly an hour, watching life unfold at its own unhurried pace, feeling a sense of calm I hadn’t experienced in years.

Life on the Trail

Evenings were my favorite time. After long hours of walking, we would reach camp as the light began to fade. Eshetu would share stories — of growing up in these mountains, of changes he’s seen over the decades, of traditions that still endure despite the passing of time.

Meals were simple but deeply satisfying: lentils, injera, warm bread when we were lucky. As darkness settled in, the stars emerged with a clarity I had never seen before. Without city lights, the sky felt impossibly close, as if you could reach out and touch it.

Reflection

Trekking alone — or as alone as one can be with a trusted guide — allows for a kind of connection that group tours rarely offer. You move at your own pace. You stop not because the itinerary demands it, but because something catches your attention: a bird call, a distant storm rolling through a valley, the way the light changes on the cliffs.

By the end of the journey, I realized that the Simien Mountains had quietly reshaped my sense of time. Days slowed. Thoughts clarified. The constant noise of everyday life faded, replaced by something older and steadier.

Essential Gear	Why?
Solar Charger	Limited power at camps and no electricity
Fleece Layers	Temperatures drop below freezing at night
Solid Boots	Sharp rock and long, demanding descents

Leaving the mountains was harder than I expected. As we descended back toward civilization, I carried more than memories. I carried silence, perspective, and a renewed respect for landscapes that don’t demand attention — but reward it deeply.