Outgrowing our Tent: A Family’s Lesson in the Bale Mountains of Ethiopia
Some trips are meticulously planned months in advance; others take unexpected turns, leading to unforeseen adventures. Ours was the latter.
The night before our eagerly awaited trek in Ethiopia’s Simien Mountains, we received news of safety concerns in the region, necessitating a sudden change of plans. In response, Solomon at Mesob Tours swiftly redirected us to a new destination: a four-day expedition in the Bale Mountains National Park. With this pivot, we set our sights southward, trading the Simien's rugged peaks for the Bale's expansive high-altitude landscapes.
Arrival in Goba
Our journey commenced with a flight into Goba, a modest town on the periphery of the Bale Mountains. The Robe Airport (GOB) was minimalistic—a single gate devoid of amenities, merely a straightforward runway amidst open terrain. The absence of bustling crowds and commercial distractions underscored the remoteness of our location.
Awaiting us was Houssain, our guide for the expedition. His warm smile and kind demeanor immediately put us at ease. After brief introductions, we loaded our gear into a Toyota Previa van that looked to have seen many excursions and embarked on a scenic drive, meandering through quaint villages, undulating hills, and vast stretches of golden savannah.
A Night at Bale Mountain Lodge
Our first evening was spent at the Bale Mountain Lodge, an off-grid sanctuary nestled within the heart of the Harenna Forest. Here, wildlife thrives undisturbed. We observed a troop of baboons, approximately 15 strong, their silhouettes fading into the dense foliage as dusk settled. Nearby, warthogs grazed alongside horses, their snouts rooting through the underbrush. This region is also home to elusive predators like lions and leopards, a testament to the area's rich biodiversity.
A short stroll from the lodge led us deeper into the forest, where black-and-white colobus monkeys leaped gracefully among the treetops, their long tails trailing elegantly. The forest floor was a mosaic of gnarled, ancient trees draped in vines, interspersed with clusters of bamboo reaching skyward. High in the treetops, honey baskets were placed, enticing bees to make their homes. The air was thick with the earthy aroma of dust that hung in the air, punctuated by the subtle sounds of unseen creatures moving through the undergrowth.
Embarking on the Trek
The following morning, Houssain introduced us to our two horse guides, accompanied by four sturdy mountain horses. Two of these resilient animals were laden with all the essentials for our three-day journey: our four backpacks, a duffel bag, firewood, water supplies, and the guides' equipment. The remaining horses were designated for our boys, Luke and Ben, should they require a respite from hiking.
Initially, the boys were hesitant. Their recent experience riding camels in the Egyptian Sahara had been atop towering creatures, making these smaller Ethiopian horses seem less intimidating. Encouraged by each other, they mounted the horses. By the third day, their confidence had blossomed; they would gallop ahead, laughter echoing through the valleys, only to circle back with exhilarated grins.
Confronting the Elements
The intensity of the high-altitude sun became apparent on our first day of trekking. Despite donning hats and applying sunscreen, we found ourselves vulnerable to its relentless rays. By evening, our skin bore the telltale signs of sunburn. The exposed skin swollen and red, the consequences of improper coverage would take its toll. In the days that followed, despite increased precautions, the sun's potency at elevations exceeding 13,000 feet proved formidable, leaving our skin taut and tender—a stark reminder of nature's uncompromising force. With sunburn tightening our skin and exhaustion setting in, we welcomed the descent into the Fincha Habera valley, where we’d make camp among the boulders and beneath the stars
Camping at Fincha Habera Waterfall
Our first night under the stars was spent near the Fincha Habera Waterfall (not flowing during dry season). This area is not only a natural marvel but also an archaeological treasure. TheFincha Habera rock shelter, located approximately 200 meters upstream from the waterfall, stands at anelevation of about 4,000 meters above sea level. Remarkably, this site provides evidence of human habitation dating back between 47,000 and 31,000 years ago, making it one of the oldest known high-altitude settlements.
During the Late Pleistocene, hunter-gatherers occupied this shelter, relying heavily on the endemic giant mole rats for sustenance. These small mammals, abundant in the region, constituted a significant portion of the inhabitants' diet. They could be seen scurrying from hole to hole, their routine briefly disturbed by our presence.
As we set up camp, the profound silence of the highlands enveloped us, broken only by the distant calls of the Ethiopian Wolves, whom we caught glimpses of the next morning. The night sky, free from light pollution, unveiled a tapestry of stars, offering a glimpse into the same celestial display that ancient inhabitants once observed.
Freezing Nights and a Struggling Stove
Hiding from the cold wind, Luke and I boil water on our alcohol stove and prepare for dinner.
That night, temperatures were just about freezing. The cold was unrelenting, seeping into our sleeping bags and forming thin layers of frost on the outside of our tents. When we woke, everything was frozen and even our breath left behind a thin film of frost inside the tent.
My alcohol stove struggled to light, only catching fire with the strike of my ferro rod. A lighter was no use in these temperatures. The fuel, thickened by the cold, took far longer to ignite than usual. We hovered around it, placed in my Vargo Titanium stove warming our hands over the weak flame as we waited for it to heat enough to boil water. It was a harsh but beautiful reminder that the mountains make no concessions for comfort—they demand preparation, resilience and respect for the elements.
Realizing the Need for Change
On the second night, we established camp within a sheltered canyon, positioning our tents behind large boulders to shield against the wind. The temperature dropped sharply, and as we settled in, a realization dawned upon us. Our trusted 15+ year old Mountain Hardwear Drifter 3P tent, which had comfortably housed the four of us on so many previous adventures, now felt cramped. Luke and Ben had grown, their once-small frames now occupying more space. Consequently, Shauna shared the 3P tent with the boys, while I resorted to a solo one-person tent nearby. This arrangement, though functional, underscored a pivotal truth: our family's needs had evolved, and so too must our gear.
Final Night in the Valley Near Dinsho
Our last night was spent camping in a valley near Dinsho, a stunning regionteeming with wildlife. As dusk settled, we watched asMountain Nyala, warthogs, Menelik's bushbuck, dik-diks, and olive baboonsmoved through the landscape. It was the most wildlife-rich campsite of our trek—everywhere we turned, something was moving, grazing, or watching us from a distance.
The next morning, as we packed up and prepared to leave, the baboons began to stir. They knew we were leaving. As soon as we began hiking away, they descended upon our now-vacant campsite, meticulously scouring the ground for any scraps of food we might have left behind.
This is exactly why we always adhered to a strict "pack it in, pack it out" policy. We had seen firsthand how quickly wildlife could associate humans with food. Leaving behind even the smallest morsels could reinforce scavenging behavior, making the animals more reliant on human presence—a cycle we wanted no part of.
Embracing Growth and New Adventures
This trek reinforced an essential truth—our family is growing, and our gear must grow with us. A reliable four-person tent will allow us to share these adventures together without sacrificing warmth or comfort. As our boys continue to grow, so do our adventures. Embracing these changes ensures that we remain connected, comfortable, and ever-ready for the journeys that await us.
Final Thoughts
This trek was more than just a journey through the Bale Mountains—it was a reflection of how our family is evolving. The boys are growing, our needs are shifting, and the way we travel must adapt. The mountains tested us with sunburn, freezing nights, and the reality of outgrowing our tent, but they also gave us something in return: a renewed appreciation for adventure, resilience, and the simple joy of sharing the wild as a family.
And that, more than anything, is why we keep exploring. Visit us on instagram for more picture and videos. @Side_Quest__Overland or on our website at www.sidequestoverland.com.
Have you ever realized mid-trip that your gear wasn’t working for you anymore? What’s the one piece of equipment you’ve had to upgrade as your adventures evolved? Drop your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear your stories! Share this blog with someone who might need an upgrade. Don't forget to follow #sidequestoverland
