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Living in Kenya, and traveling throughout Africa, you tend
to become accustomed to quoted prices for trips and excursions ballooning through
a number of unstated, hidden costs. Guides are extra, sometimes you have to pay
for fuel. Every trip is different, but normally you will be asked to pay more.
So when I embarked on a day trip to the Gheralta Mountains
in Tigray, northern Ethiopia, I expected to pay a bit above what was originally
agreed. However, when my guide showed up and asked me to rent a climbing
harness and ropes, I was surprised, as I had no idea I was about to embark on
some real mountain excursion. This was not the type of extra cost I was
expecting.
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A covered window at the rock-hewn cliff-top church of Abuna Yemata Guh in Tigray, northern Ethiopia.
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I was headed to Abuna Yemata Guh, an Ethiopian Orthodox
church buried in the Gheralta Mountains north of Mekele. It was said there was
some climbing involved, but ropes and a harness imply more than just scrambling
on rocks. As an avid rock climber myself, I wasn’t worried, just excited for
the adventure to come. I was also surprised this little side trip wasn’t more
promoted.
In most guide books, Abuna Yemata Guh, and the churches in northern Tigray, are just a paragraph. They are significantly less well known than the famous churches in Lalibela. In fact, the trip wasn’t even recommended to me, I had to go and ask the local travel agency for the details. Most people come and go through Mekele to visit the Danakil Depression. They usually start and end their trip in the city, spending bookend nights in the hotels before jetting back south. This is a mistake.
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A holy book is held open by a priest inside the cliff church of Abuna Yemata Guh in Tigray, northern Ethiopia.
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The church of Abuna Yemata Guh, I found, is spectacular. It
is located in the middle of a monolithic rock spire 2,500 feet above the desert
in Tigray. But unlike normal buildings made of bricks and mortar, this church
was hand-carved into the rock over the course of 200 years, starting in the 6th
century. It is a church and at the same time a man-made cave. Its paintings and
frescos are hundreds of years old, if not more than a thousand. And the
climbing is real. After an hour-long hike across the desert and up to the base
of the spire, there is a 20 foot vertical section of rock that must be scaled
before crossing a ledge that features a rock wall on one side, and a 600 foot
drop on the other. Shoes cannot be worn at the monastery, but foot and handholds
are solid, having been worn deeply and smoothly into the rocks over more than
1,500 years.
Climbing to the church, it’s impossible to not feel a
connection to the rest of humanity. This little church - the inside is not more
than 30 feet long by 25 feet wide – has existed just like the rock from which
it was painstakingly hewn. It has surpassed dynasties and wars, the formation
of countries and the rise and fall of governments. By placing your feet into
the holds in the rock, you are literally walking in the footsteps of 1,500 years
of faithful history.
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Looking out on the spires of the Gheralta Mountains from the
mouth of the church you have a first-hand view of the majesty that is this
world. The passage of time, explicitly visible as sun and shadow play their
daily game of cat-and-mouse, makes you feel both incredibly insignificant, but
incredibly powerful. You understand that while your role in this world may not
be large, you’re a part of it nonetheless, a part of this unending dance of
magnificence, grandeur and splendor. While I’m not an overly religious person,
I do understand how others would find God in this place.
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