Chilling on a Volcano - Erta Alle

After Dallol, it was hard to see what could top the experience. (See what I did there)

We explored some of the rock and salt formations when we got out of the hill, silently amazed by our experience of the morning, and by how different the landscape could look barely a few kilometres away.

The road was long and gruelling, but this is to be expected. After all, we were exploring one of the most remote places on the planet. To even be here was a privilege.

Sparse huts gave way to a lunar landscape, dust devils and heat hazes. After almost a day's driving, including a small stop at a little hamlet with metal huts to pay the Afar people for access to Erta Ale, we arrived at the "base camp". It was good to be out of the car, finally… The landscape was already strange.

Volcanic lava plains extended as far as the eye could see, with the basalt-coloured rocks tracing the movement of lava from the previous eruptions of the still-active Erta Ale. Tiny straw digs had been set up here and there, like the most primitive accommodation. By this time, the sun was setting; a pale pink, watery sunset over ramshackle straw huts. Zsofi remarked that we might have been in Tatouine or some Star Wars planet.

After dinner, we had to decide: are we camping up the volcano or returning to base camp? In the end the group decided to split. I was quite keen to stay at the top, which turned out to be a questionable decision. We started hiking up the volcano at night (my sentiments about hiking are well known. It's not a horribly steep incline but I was winded nonetheless). Here, far away from human settlements and light pollution, we could see stars so clearly that we did not really need torchlight.

We eventually reached the top of the volcano, and had the choice to go down into the ledge of the crater (how else would you get rid of the One Ring? #castitintothefire).

Of course we do. We go down a narrow passage, emerging onto a vast ledge inside the crater ( Feeling of being Frodo venturing into Mount Doom intensifies). We walk for about 5-10 minutes on a very uneven terrain (trying not to remember that we are only on a thin crust of lava that built up and could collapse into the crater below) until we reach the vent

The smell of sulphur was suffocating. In normal times, you see a spectacular lava lake in the vent, with fiery streaks of red cutting across the crust but this time, we could only see a couple of red pinpricks of glowing lava. Sadly, the lava inside the chimney had crusted over, so all we could see of the formidable Erta Ale was a couple of ominous, glowing red pinpricks.

However, it was worth coming down here to listen to the sound of the magma underneath the crust: it sounded like a raging ocean. The "ssshhhh" of the magma waves was awe-inspiring. It was the sound of the raw force that shapes and reshapes the Earth at work. Erta Ale means "smoking mountain" in the Afari language, and true to its name, the volcano was exuding tendrils of acrid smoke. We left before the fumes knocked us out. Half of the group set off to go back down to the camp; the other half remained a few metres from the top of the volcano. In my mind, volcano = hot, but the truth is, sleeping up here was freezing. The tour guides had only brought thin mattresses and miserable thin flannel blankets on camelback, and it was deathly cold. It was impossible to sleep, so we all huddled close and looked at the stars above our heads. It was spectacular. The silence was humbling. As were the very slight tremors we felt underneath us. The morning came, exposing a bleak landscape. My heart broke to see that the sides of the volcano were in fact littered with plastic bottles and tissue paper left by careless hikers. We climbed up the volcano one last time, to see the crater in the light of the morning.

A pallid sun was rising, while the moon was still in the sky.

The morning mist, together with the volcanic fumes, made it look surreal and spectacular. The rim of the volcano rose like hills around us.

Swirling patterns of cool lava and the rocky sides of the rim of the crater give the false impression of being on another lava plain and stable ground, but the thick, choking smell of sulfur, and occasional crack in the ledge remind us that we were on very precarious ground - it could give way at any moment and plunge us into the lava lake below. We saw cracks in the ledge which gave us heart attacks. Once again, the fumes eventually forced us out (as we could actually see them in the light, it was quite worrying that we'd been breathing this last night when we went down to the rim).

It was time to go. The camels packed up the mattresses and we made our way down to the base camp (where the rest of the people had seemingly enjoyed a restful sleep... but for the sake of our pride we would never tell them that we froze our butts off.)

On the way back to Mekelle, we had one last surprise: Lake Afrera.

A strange lake, with floating foam that tricked you into thinking you were swimming with blocks of ice.

And a deliciously warm and limpid little pool tucked away like a little private jacuzzi in a grove of bushes where we could wash the grime and dirt of the last three days away. Being able to swim in the water was unexpected and a real delight.

It was the perfect end of a surreal, perfect trip. We flew back to Addis, reeling with the impressions of the weekend, pinching ourselves to make sure this hadn't been simply a lucid, trippy dream.

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If you're planning on doing the 3-day Danakil trip - one which everyone must do before leaving Ethiopia - you must ensure that you have a proper, warm sleeping bag, a face mask for the smoke of the volcano, and a bikini for Lake Afrera (make sure your guide doesn't skip this!).

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