Exploring Northern Ethiopia

Ancient Cities, Highland Monasteries, and Sacred Traditions

Ethiopia is hands down one of my favorite countries in the world. Its profound cultural and natural diversity make it stand out—not just in Africa, but globally. From towering mountains to fiery deserts, Serengeti-like plains to medieval walled cities, Ethiopia is a country of contrasts that constantly surprises.

Why Ethiopia Stands Apart

A Nation Untouched by Colonialism

Ethiopia holds a special place in African history. It’s the only country on the continent never formally colonized, aside from a brief occupation by Mussolini’s Italy. This long-standing independence, combined with geographic isolation and a fierce resistance to foreign invasion, has allowed Ethiopia to preserve a rich tapestry of traditions, languages, and religions that remain uniquely its own.

Natural and Cultural Riches

From Deserts to Highlands, Tribes to Temples

Few countries offer the range of experiences that Ethiopia does:

• The Danakil Desert, one of the hottest and most otherworldly places on Earth

• The tribal lands of the Omo Valley, home to some of Africa’s most traditional cultures

• The rock-hewn churches of Lalibela and Tigray, carved directly into the mountain stone

• The ancient Islamic city of Harar, once closed to outsiders and revered as Africa’s holiest Muslim city

• The Simien Mountains, where wild gelada baboons roam the cliffs

Focus of This Page: Northern Ethiopia

Stories and Photos from the Highlands

While I’ve documented the Danakil Desert and Omo Valley on separate pages, this section is devoted to the northern highlands, a region rich in history and spirituality. Here are highlights from my journeys through this unforgettable part of Ethiopia:

Lalibela and the Churches of Stone

The town of Lalibela is famed for its monolithic churches, each one hewn from solid rock in the 12th century. These structures aren’t just impressive feats of engineering—they’re still active places of worship, filled with white-robed pilgrims and echoing chants. Wandering through the subterranean tunnels connecting the churches feels like stepping into a living museum of ancient Christianity.

The Remote Churches of Tigray

Further north, Tigray’s cliffside churches are less visited but equally remarkable. Many are perched atop sheer rock faces, requiring steep scrambles or even vertical climbs to reach. But the reward—intimate sanctuaries with sweeping views and centuries-old murals—is worth every effort.

Meeting the Gelada Baboons

High in the Simien Mountains, I encountered gelada baboons, endemic primates known for their expressive faces and thick manes. Watching a troop of hundreds graze peacefully on the escarpment, with jagged cliffs plunging below, was one of my most memorable wildlife experiences.

Harar: A City of Saints

Tucked into the east, Harar is considered the fourth holiest city in Islam. With its maze-like alleyways, 82 mosques, and ancient walls, it’s a place of deep spirituality. For centuries, Harar was off-limits to non-Muslims, and even today it feels like a city apart from the rest of Ethiopia. At night, I joined locals to witness the famed Hyena Man, who feeds wild hyenas by hand just outside the city gates.

Final Thoughts

A Country of Endless Discovery

The northern highlands of Ethiopia offer a journey through time—through kingdoms, religions, and remote mountain traditions that remain alive today. These are just a few stories and photos from my travels in this remarkable region. Whether you’re drawn by spiritual architecture, rare wildlife, or hidden histories, Ethiopia delivers an experience unlike any other.

My route in the highlands over various trips to Ethiopia minus the Danakil and Omo Valley

Tracking Gelada Baboons in Ethiopia’s Muger River Canyon

November 2007 & 2017 – Two Encounters a Decade Apart

If you’re looking for one of the easiest and most scenic places to see gelada baboons, look no further than the Muger River Canyon Gorge, about a three-hour drive from Addis Ababa.

Meet the Geladas

Known as the mountain baboons of Ethiopia, geladas are a unique primate species found only in the Ethiopian highlands. They’re one of the largest types of baboons, famous for their:

• Chewbacca-like manes of shaggy fur

• Bright red, heart-shaped chest patches

• Unusual grazing behavior—they spend much of their time on the ground eating grass

What makes them especially fascinating is their social behavior. They live in large herds, often ranging from a few dozen to hundreds, and communicate with an impressive array of facial expressions and vocalizations.

Muger River Canyon: A Natural Theater

The Muger Gorge is a dramatic landscape of steep cliffs and sweeping canyon views. It’s not just stunning—it’s also home to large groups of geladas that can be observed up close. On both visits—once in 2007 and again in 2017—I took a local taxi to the canyon, where I was able to hike along the rim and watch the geladas in their natural environment.

Life Alongside People

One of the most interesting aspects of this area is how geladas co-exist with local villagers. Children are often tasked with protecting crops from the baboons, sometimes throwing stones to scare them off. But overall, there’s a peaceful relationship between humans and baboons here—a quiet understanding shaped by generations of shared space.

Muger River Canyon Gorge with Waterfall

Family of gelada baboons on the cliff

Same family of geladas clinging to the steep cliffs to the top right. They clamore up and down the cliffs with ease

Friendly village kids near where I saw the gelada baboons

Moonlit Stones of Faith: Visiting Lalibela

November 2007 – Ethiopia’s Rock-Hewn Churches and Timeless Pilgrimage

After seeing the rose-colored wonder of Petra in Jordan, I didn’t think any rock-carved site could rival it—until I visited Lalibela. Nestled high in the Ethiopian highlands, this small town is home to some of the most extraordinary rock-hewn churches in the world. Lalibela isn’t just a place of history—it’s a living, breathing center of spiritual devotion, where ancient rituals continue under the same sun that has shone on them for nearly a millennium.

A City Built by Divine Vision

The Legend of King Lalibela

According to Ethiopian legend, King Lalibela, who ruled during the 11th or 12th century, was poisoned and nearly died. During his near-death experience, he was transported to heaven where God and angels instructed him to build a “New Jerusalem” in Ethiopia. Upon recovering, he commissioned the carving of 11 monolithic churches, each one sculpted from a single block of volcanic rock, complete with connecting tunnels and subterranean passageways.

Back then, Lalibela was the capital of the Christian Kingdom of Abyssinia—isolated by mountains and untouched by outside influence. Though it is no longer a capital, Lalibela remains Ethiopia’s holiest Christian pilgrimage site, attracting thousands of Ethiopian Orthodox worshippers each year.

Flying into the Highlands

Arrival and Market Day in Lalibela

My friend Evan and I flew from Addis Ababa to Lalibela, landing on a dusty airstrip surrounded by steep mountains. We checked into a budget guesthouse within walking distance of the churches and, by pure luck, happened to arrive on market day.

That day, thousands of villagers from the surrounding countryside streamed into Lalibela, creating a scene that looked like it had been pulled straight from biblical times. Men and women in white robes, some with Coptic crosses tattooed on their foreheads, mingled through the streets, bartering goods, sharing news, and preparing for worship.

Pilgrims, Prayers, and Bones

Exploring the Sacred Churches of Lalibela

Visiting the rock-hewn churches during the day is an awe-inspiring experience. We wandered through Biete Medhane Alem, Biete Maryam, and the other sacred structures, each carved deep into the earth and still home to priests and nuns who chant prayers in Amharic and tend to the faithful.

Inside the cool, shadowy chambers, we witnessed pilgrims kneeling before altars, kissing the stone, and engaging in deeply personal acts of devotion. In small alcoves and cliffside niches, human skeletons lay in repose—the remains of pilgrims who had requested to be buried within these holy sites.

One experience stood out: a pitch-black tunnel beneath one church that we entered without flashlights. You’re meant to feel your way forward through total darkness—symbolizing a journey through hell or eternal separation from light. It was unsettling, disorienting, and unforgettable.

The Magic of a Full Moon

A Night Alone at St. George’s Church

As extraordinary as the churches were in daylight, nothing compared to experiencing them under the glow of a full moon. Incredibly, there were no guards, no fences, and no crowds. At night, Lalibela’s churches are simply there—open, silent, and sacred.

Evan and I walked alone through the ancient paths and approached the edge of Biete Giyorgis (St. George’s Church)—perhaps the most famous of Lalibela’s churches, carved in the shape of a perfect cross directly into the ground. We sat quietly on the precipice above the church, looking down at it bathed in moonlight.

It was one of those rare travel moments that feels like a dream, so surreal and so emotionally rich that you know it will stay with you forever.

Traditional homes of Lalibela

A woman in Lalibela with Coptic Christian tatoo on her forehead of a Coptic cross and neck tatoos

St. George Church carved out of the Ground

St. George Church carved out of the Ground

Skeletons of pilgrims who chose to be buried in open tombs in St. Johns Church

A nun who lives in Lalibela

Pilgrims with Coptic cross tatoos on their foreheads 

Journey to Harar: Africa’s Forbidden Holy City

December 2012 – A Glimpse into Ethiopia’s Islamic Heartland

Tucked away in eastern Ethiopia lies Harar, a city steeped in mystery, history, and spiritual reverence. Often referred to as “Africa’s Mecca”, Harar is considered the fourth holiest city in Islam, following Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem. Its narrow alleyways, ancient mosques, and tight-knit community make it one of the most compelling places I’ve ever visited.

A City of Walls and Worship

The Islamic Stronghold of the Horn of Africa

Harar has long served as a bridge between Ethiopia, the Horn of Africa, and Arabia, flourishing as a trading center and religious hub. As the city grew into an Islamic cultural capital, it became a bastion against the spread of Christianity from the Ethiopian highlands. To defend itself, Harar was walled off in the 1500s, and strict laws were enacted to keep outsiders—especially non-Muslims—out.

At the time, entry was forbidden under threat of death, and for centuries, the city remained impenetrable to foreigners. That changed in 1855 when the famed British explorer Sir Richard Burton disguised himself as an Arab merchant and became the first known outsider to enter the city. Burton would later pull off a similar feat by sneaking into Mecca and Medina—both also closed to foreigners at the time.

Overland from Somaliland

A Cramped but Memorable Journey

To reach Harar, I traveled overland from Hargeisa, Somaliland, in a shared mini-van packed shoulder to shoulder with Ethiopian passengers. I was wedged into the back seat with no room to move, no air circulation, and the overwhelming grip of claustrophobia.

Eventually, I managed to wriggle into the far rear of the van, where I could open the back hatch. Letting my feet dangle out the back, I finally felt the relief of cool air and a sliver of freedom as we climbed the rugged road toward Harar.

Life Within the Walls

Two Days in the Old City

Once in Harar, I found a family-run guesthouse nestled within the old city walls and settled in for two nights. Walking through the maze-like alleyways of Harar felt like stepping back in time. Life here has changed little in centuries—children played in dusty courtyards, women carried goods through winding paths, and call to prayer echoed from mosque minarets.

Armed with my camera, I spent hours wandering and observing. The residents were incredibly warm and open, allowing me to take photos freely. No one asked for money, no one turned away. It was a photographer’s dream—authentic, unscripted human life, unfolding in every direction.

Walled city of Harar

Inside the walled city of Harar

Boy in Harar Old City

Busy marketplace in Harar old City

Faces of Harar

Faces of Harar-Woman with Traditional face Tatoos

Faces of Harar

Dancing with Hyenas: Harar’s Most Unforgettable Spectacle

Where Ancient City Walls Meet Wild Night Beasts

Of all the surreal experiences in Harar, nothing compares to the wild hyena feeding, a bizarre and captivating ritual that takes place a few times a week just outside the city’s medieval walls after sunset.

Feeding the Beasts to Keep the Peace

For generations, locals have fed the hyenas in an effort to keep them from attacking livestock—or worse, children—within the city. The logic is simple: a well-fed hyena is a less dangerous one.

One man in particular, known simply as the “Hyena Man,” has earned the trust of these powerful predators. Each time, villagers bring him a dead donkey, and he uses the meat to feed the waiting hyenas. These animals descend from the surrounding hills under the cover of darkness, their eyes glowing in the moonlight as they silently circle in anticipation.

Trust Between Predator and Man

Despite their terrifying potential—hyenas are capable of killing and consuming humans and are equipped with massive, bone-crushing jaws—there’s a strange sense of mutual respect during the feeding. The hyenas never threaten the man. They wait their turn, snatch the meat, and disappear again into the night.

It’s a chilling but mesmerizing relationship between human and wild animal, built on routine, trust, and a kind of unspoken understanding.

Feeding by Hand… Not Mouth

For a small fee, tourists are invited to participate. The bravest can feed the hyenas by holding a piece of meat in their mouth, allowing the animal to snatch it away with a single bite.
I wasn’t willing to take that risk, given the size and power of their teeth—but I did take part in the experience by feeding them by hand, which was thrilling enough. Holding a piece of meat out at arm’s length as a wild hyena lunged forward to take it was an unforgettable brush with the primal.

Dead donkey donated by a villager to be used for meat to feed hyenas

Hyena man feeding hyenas from his mouth

Me feeding hyenas 

Heading North: From Harar to the Tigrayan Highlands

After exploring Harar, I continued my journey across Ethiopia by taking a shared taxi to Dire Dawa, the nearest major transit hub. From there, I boarded an Ethiopian Airlines flight, connecting through Addis Ababa and eventually arriving in Mekele, the capital of the Tigray region in northern Ethiopia.

Into the Highlands: Journey to Abuna Yemata Guh

A Church in the Sky and the Road to the Danakil Desert

After landing in Mekelle, the capital of Ethiopia’s Tigray region, my primary goal was to begin my expedition into the Danakil Desert. But while I waited to join that tour, I decided to take a detour to visit one of the most extraordinary churches I’ve ever encountered: Abuna Yemata Guh.

A Church Carved Into the Clouds

Abuna Yemata – Sacred, Secluded, and 1,800 Years Old

Tucked into a cliffside near the summit of a mountain nearly 9,000 feet above sea level, Abuna Yemata is no ordinary church. Dating back to the 5th or 6th century, it has served as a place of Christian worship for over 1,400 years. It was built—quite literally—into the vertical face of a mountain, and it’s still in use today by villagers and pilgrims who make the treacherous journey to reach it.

What makes Abuna Yemata so unforgettable isn’t just its age or setting—it’s the journey to get there.

The Ascent: Not for the Faint of Heart

Climbing to One of the World’s Most Remote Churches

There is no road, no rail, no handrail—just sheer rock, ancient footholds, and dizzying heights. Reaching the church involves a strenuous uphill hike followed by a vertical free climb, sometimes with drop-offs of several hundred feet on either side. It’s an adrenaline-pumping, potentially deadly ascent that tests both your nerves and your legs.

For safety and navigation, I hired a guide and a vehicle to take me to the village that serves as the starting point. The drive itself was a highlight: winding through rural Tigray, past stunning landscapes and villages that felt frozen in time.

Faces of Tigray

Traditional Life and Open Smiles

As we drove through the countryside, I was captivated by the deeply traditional way of life. Locals wore flowing white robes, and many—especially the elders—had tattooed Coptic crosses on their faces, a visible symbol of faith. Every stop along the way was a chance to meet friendly villagers and children, many of whom were curious and welcoming.

For a photographer, it was a dream. People smiled freely for the camera, unbothered and proud. No one asked for money; it was pure, unforced interaction.

Final Thoughts

Abuna Yemata Guh is one of those rare places where history, faith, landscape, and raw adventure collide. It’s not an easy place to reach—but that’s part of what makes it so moving. For me, it was a spiritual and physical journey—a prelude to the harsher, more extreme landscapes of the Danakil ahead.

Abuna Yemata cave Church Located Near the Top of the mountain In the photo I had to Climb with a Priest

Village Scene

Village Scene

Kids gathered around me in the village laughing and just being kids

Village Scene

Village Scene

Village Scene

Climbing Toward Faith: The Ascent to Abuna Yemata Guh

A Funeral Procession, a Vertical Cliff, and a Church in the Sky

When I arrived in the small Tigrayan village at the base of the mountain, a procession of villagers was descending from the cliffs above. I soon learned that a funeral ceremony had just concluded. Out of respect for the mourners and the sacred nature of the moment, I waited quietly before beginning the climb to Abuna Yemata Guh.

Guided by Faith

A Priest, a Vertical Wall, and No Rope

Once the funeral ended, a village Coptic priest and a few monks agreed to guide me to the church. What followed was one of the most dangerous physical challenges I’ve ever undertaken—scaling a 100-foot vertical cliff, essentially free-climbing the rock face with no ropes, no gear, and a sheer drop below.

The priest, seemingly unfazed, calmly pointed out footholds and handholds, helping me find the safest path upward. At one point, I asked him if anyone had ever fallen and died. He paused, looked at me, and simply said,

“As long as your heart is pure before God, you will be protected.”

The Ledge of No Return

A Log Bridge, a Precipice, and the Hidden Doorway

At the top of the cliff, the challenge wasn’t over. We continued along a narrow, unprotected ledge carved into the rock, with a 1,000-foot drop yawning open below us. At one point, we had to cross a fragile wooden log bridge, suspended hundreds of feet above the canyon floor. It looked like it could snap at any moment.

Then, tucked into the cliff wall, the entrance appeared—a small opening in the mountainside, barely noticeable unless you knew it was there. I had made it to Abuna Yemata Guh.

Inside the Cliff Church

Murals, Relics, and Sacred Silence

The interior of the church was modest in size but overflowing with history and holiness. A series of small rooms carved from stone revealed hand-painted murals of saints and biblical scenes, many faded but still vibrant after centuries. Christian artifacts and ceremonial objects were carefully arranged inside.

The priest led me through each chamber, explaining their purpose and significance. After the tour, we sat in silence, resting in the cool stillness of this mountain sanctuary—a moment of peace after an intense spiritual and physical journey.

Act of Faith

Climbing to Abuna Yemata Guh wasn’t just a hike—it was an act of faith, a pilgrimage in the truest sense. Between the breathtaking danger of the ascent and the spiritual depth of the destination, it remains one of the most powerful travel experiences of my life.

Climbing up a 100′ cliff to Abuna Yemata

Coptic Priest

Climbing Steep Ledge to enter Abuna Yemata

Following the priest into Abuna Yemata

Entrance of Abuna Yemata on a cliff dropping thousands of feet below

Abuna Yemata

Abuna Yemata

Abuna Yemata

Abuna Yemata Coptic Priest

Abuna Yemata

A Shared Prayer in the Highlands

Drinking with Monks, Ancient Rituals, and an Unexpected Spiritual Bond

After descending from the precarious heights of Abuna Yemata, I was physically exhausted and emotionally stirred. But the journey wasn’t quite over.

An Invitation into the Hidden World of the Monks

The priest who had guided me kindly invited me to the monks’ quarters, located in a dark, smoke-filled church tucked into the cliffs nearby. The air was thick with clouds of incense, and the dim light revealed the outlines of stone walls and ancient icons. It felt as though I had stepped back centuries.

Inside, the monks had gathered not just to pray but to share in the brewing and drinking of homemade beer—a tradition passed down through generations. They poured me a cup of the gritty, earthy-tasting brew, which I accepted politely. The taste was rough, almost like drinking fermented soil, but I managed to finish it, hoping my stomach wouldn’t pay the price later.

A Prayer of My Own

As the monks began chanting Coptic prayers in the Tigrayan language, I felt both honored and out of place—an outsider welcomed into their sacred moment. Inspired, I asked my guide to translate a request: could I lead them in a prayer of my own?

To my surprise, they enthusiastically agreed.

Standing among them, I offered a prayer—for the monks, for their community, and for their mountainside village. My words were translated, and the room fell silent in reverence. It was a deeply spiritual and emotional exchange, unlike anything I had expected when setting out that morning.

Departing with Song

Before I left, we joined together in a final song, blending voices in a harmony that transcended language and culture. It was a simple act, but it felt profound—a rare and powerful connection with people whose world seemed so far removed from my own.

That night, I returned to Mekelle, still absorbing everything that had unfolded. I would depart for the Danakil Desert the following morning—but this experience, in a cliffside monastery with praying monks and homemade beer, would stay with me forever.