Anyone who has holidayed on Pacific Islands will appreciate what a rarity a day with crystal clear blue skies is. Our last day here is just that. We have rented a car to explore the main island complex of Palau. We hit the smooth Chinese built bitumen and quickly the congestion of the main city of Koror yields to empty roads and tropical lush green vegetation. The roads are bereft of traffic and the maximum speed limit of 50km/hr is inappropriately and painfully slow.
The drive to the stone monoliths at Babeldoab takes the better part of an hour. We are at the very northern tip of the islands and the view down to the 2000 year old stone carvings with the reef and ocean in the background makes us go weak at the knees.
Lunch on the beach, dip in the cool clear waters beneath the Ngardmau waterfall and a wander around the nation’s Capitol buildings, the sleepy seat of government modelled on Washington DC’s Congress buildings completes our final day in this island paradise.
The latter half of 1944 saw the Japanese army being repelled by American forces in the Pacific. General Macarthur was back in the Philippines and the push was on through Iwo Jima in the east and Okinawa in the west. Palau sits between these lines of attack and the 10,000 Japanese soldiers and the valuable airstrip here was cut off from Japan. Opinion was divided wuth US Admiral Nimmitz in favour of attacking the Japanese in Palau and Admiral Halsey against. Nimmitz prevailed and the marines were sent in in here September 1944 for an anticipated 3 day skirmish to drive the Japanese out of Palau.
As I wander through the museum, past the memorial cairns and the rusted out WW11 military hardware in the jungle, I try to imagine the living hell this must have been then. The lush vegetation on fire an angry witness to the carnage below. I have the luxury of a pleasant afternoon of cycling around the island to see all of this and reenact the battles in my mind’s eye. Especially poignant as this all happened just over half a century ago and is relatively fresh in our minds as the planet’s last great war
The Japanese soldiers changed tactic for this battle. Elsewhere in the Pacific they met the US forces head on and fought mano y mano. In Peleliu the fact that the island is made of limestone and honeycombed with caves allowed the Japanese to bunker down, await the enemy from a secure position and to shoot at the attacking US forces.
US tanks
Ultimately 3 days of battle became 16 and the casualty rate of this under reported and relatively unknown US victory was a horrendous 2000 dead for the US and all 10000 Japanese perished. Ultimately the Japanese commander here refused to surrender and committed harakiri as any honourable Japanese warrior would.
As a post script to this battle, amazingly and against the odds a few Japanese soldiers survived in the tunnels. The last of them surrendered in 1947!
“Why would you want to come all the way to Palau when Australia has the best beaches in the world?” asks a German guy at our lunch stop. My reply was quick and succinct “Jellyfish lake”. “OK I now get it” says he.
12000 years ago the lake lost contact with the sea. It is a deep salt water lake where the jellyfish, without any natural predators have multiplied and lost the ability to sting. The result is an amazing almost sci fi experience of swimming with masses of alien looking gelatinous blobs.
Our day trip starts with a 30 minute speed boat trip to “Paradise point” snorkelling. I am just in the water fiddling nervously adjusting my mask when Anthony calls out “sharks” and ducks back into the water. My initial response was to treat it as a joke but getting my head in the water I saw three graceful reef sharks gliding by deep below me. They stayed for the whole time we were there, alas a bit too deep to get any decent photos.
Nonetheless the smaller tropical fish put on a better show.
From there the jellyfish lake did not disappoint,although for a weak swimmer like me the 500 metres swim to get to them as they have congregated on the other side of the lake was a bit daunting.
Lunch was on a beach on one of the many uninhabited rock islands and the view was spectacular.
After lunch an invigorating sea kayak in among the rock islands.
The finale saw us stop at a beach they call the milky way where we jump in and grab handfulls odf the sulphurous smelling limestone mud that substitutes for sand and apply it as if it were a some sort of spa treatment. A frivolous end to what is one of the most spectacular day trips that I have ever done.
Walking out to breakfast on the open air terrace, a broad spontaneous smile erupts on my face. It was all there, coconut palms, jungle, white sand dissolving into the turquoise lagoon, lush tree clad rock islands. A zephyr of a breeze cuts through the warm humidity. I’m back in the Pacific, specifically the island nation of Palau but this is a scene repeated all over Oceania.
Palau is halfway between PNG and the Phillipins just above Australia. For a short time a budget airline operated direct flights between here and Cairns, The flying time then was a cruisy 4 hours plus the add on to Cairns. The price was also about half of the modern fare. It went broke leaving us with the present situation where the trip over is a gruelling 22 hours long with a fare that is comparable to a Melbourne – Europe one.
I first heard about this island group from the GPs on the peninsula who scuba dive. They used to hold regular conferences all around the world and Palau was consistently their favourite destination. I do not dive and the attraction for me is the unique opportunity to swim and snorkel in the world heritage listed “jelly fish” lake.
The main priority of our first day here is to recover from the journey here that had us in at 4 am. A brief few hours sleep saw us walking into the capitol of Koror. This is a nation with a population of only 210,000 so the city is, as you would imagine, quite underwhelming. Once again we could be in any capitol anywherein the Pacific. The afternoon for me was a practise swim in our hotel’s lagoon puting my hitherto barely used underwater camera through its paces.
The attached photos are of the Sea Passion Hotel where we are staying.
In 1967 a movie depicted 3 astronauts slingshot through time and space landing in the future on what they thought was an alien world. Only at the end of the movie did Charlton Heston discover that he had actually landed on a postapocalyptic Earth. That movie was, of course, Planet of the Apes and that movie was filmed here in the remotest corner of Djibouti. Looking around here now I can absolutely see why this is an “alien planet” like landscape.
We are at Lac Abbe a massive lake that straddles the Djibouti Ethiopian border, half being in Ethiopia’s Danakil where we have spent the last 4 days. It takes the better part of a day to drive out here most of it on a rough 4WD track running through rocky desert. The wildlife is surprising we see gazelle, Egyptian duck, warthog as well as the ubiquitous camels.
Egyptian gooseCamel
This was an ancient lake bed until 16 thousand years ago when the earth level rose leaving a residual lake and a remarkable row of limestone rocky outcrops which stretches for around 5km. These are literally chimneys as they emit geothermal steam and all around their bases are geothermal springs, scaldingly hot but able to support patches of spinifex green meadows.
ChimneysLac Abbe
There is a well equipped campsite here with actual toilets and generator power, but the little huts we sleep in enhance the otherworldly appearance of this place. They are igloo shaped but made out of yellow straw matting. It resembles a set from a Star Wars movie.
Lac Abbe campsite
Dawn has us wandering around the chimneys looking for the best light and photo angles.
Dawn Lac Abbe chimneys
The tour finishes with the drive to Lac Assal which is a salt lake 155 metres below sea level which vies with Dallol in the Danakil as the lowest point on the planet. It is the finale for us and does not disappoint. The road plunges quickly to this low point and all around are high hills which intensify the contrast. The photography is spectacular and a fitting end to an adventure in this little known corner of Africa.
Lac Assal
Arriving back in Djibouti city it is Friday afternoon. In a Muslim state it is the day of rest and most of the heart of town is closed. Nonetheless we seem to run into more scammers and arseholes than anywhere outside of India in a short period of time. It all underlines the fact that we have extracted the best out of our last two weeks here and aids in the adjustment back to the Sorrento reality next week. It will be good to be back with you all my loyal readers. Until the next time, au revoir from Djibouti!
I reckon there would be a market for T shirts that merely had on the back “Where the f*** is Djibouti?”. This little country is only 200km wide and 400km long. It sits wedged between Eritrea, Ethiopia and Somalia with the Red Sea to the east. It has a massive, busy deep water shipping port. Enhancing its strategic importance is the interminable civil war and social disintegration of Somalia to the south. The west’s interest in intervening in the Somali war nosedived after American reversals early on and now they content themselves with limiting the terrorist threat by bolstering the surrounding states’ security. Happy times for Djibouti!
The US maintain a permanent military base here, Camp Lemonniare. In addition there is ongoing commitment of troops to Djibouti from a strange array of countries including Germany, Italy, China, India and Japan. The local boast on arrival is that this is the safest country in Africa, conveniently ignoring the recent terrorist bombing by Al Shabbab.
The capitol, Djibouti city has an unusual vibe to it. It is a low rise sleepy African village with wide streets that, for Africa are pretty clean. It is cooler than anywhere else we have stayed with temps in the low 30s and a nice cooling sea breeze. There is one beach but the dirty grey sands lead to unappealing mud flats.
There is no bustle here, all is laid back and a wander through the tree lined European quarter in the heart of town reveals the inner charm of this place. This is probably the only place in Africa where photographing the (intrinsically uninteresting) parliament is allowed by contrast even just walking on the other side of the road from the president’s palace earns us an exhortation to move on by the police. One mosque we photograph without incident but the next one earns us comments from the locals.
Djibouti mosques
A lady at a spice stall asks us to take her photo and is delighted when we do so but we get the schizoid treatment from a random local guy who growls us out about taking pictures of a local woman.
The true highlight of this little place happens in the evening, namely dinner. One legacy, arguably the only good thing, that the French leave in their former colonies is a culture of food and wine and this place is no exception. Croissants are great and the baguettes crisp. Our seafood dinner was nothing short of being magnificent. Despite being an Islamic state, wine is readily available. It is French and tastes good. Sated and slightly titubant we meander back to the fortified compound that is our hotel and have the first night’s sleep in a bed for over a week!
Our luggage finally arrives this morning. I have been wearing formal trousers and the same underwear for the last couple of days so the arrival of reinforcements is a relief but not one that is to be savoured. We get our packs at roadside cafe and have to organise some privacy to change before heading off in 43 degree heat for Erta Alta the volcano.
The initial road is good but rapidly deteriorates to a sandy dirt track that our 4WDs seem to take as a raceway a la Paris to Dakar and then finally a 2 hour stint of rough off road driving over succeeding waves of lava fields. We then set off in the dark at 7:30 pm for the 3 hour uphill 8 km hike to the rim of Erte Alta volcano.
The climb is steady 3 hour ascent ameliorated by the darkness which conceals the climb involved. he difficulty is in the heat involved and hydration is the key. We arrive at the crater rim which is 10 minutes walk from the crater edge and a warm yellow glow surmounts the crater.I have previously been to Yasur volcano on Tana Island to see the pyrotechnical show and this looks similar until I get to the crater edge. What a show! Unlike elsewhere we look down into the crater. The lava solidifies into a crust and the zigzag lines of yellow fire break it up before one or 2 foci start off and overwhelm the viewer with awesome and dazzling shows. This is easily the most spectacular thing I have seen on this planet. Two hours and two hundred photos later and I am spent.
The sulphur becomes more intrusive now and when we retreat back to our camp 10 minutes away I happily collapse onto a “”mattress” and sleep 5 short hours until the predawn 5am wake up call. The morning session on the volcano proves to be less active and spectacular than the previous night snd we trudge down to Mekele before boarding our flight to Djibouti.
What a difference a day may makes! Up at dawn for another bland breakfast and we are off over salt fields again to Dallol. At 160 metres below sea level we are at the lowest point on earth. In the summer it regularly gets to 50 degrees celsius for us its a balmy mid 30s.
Large decorative fields of pure crystalline saltSalt, sulphur and thermal activity
Sulphur stained salt and fumeroles
What ensues is one of the most alien landscapes I have ever seen a combination of the heat, salt and volcanic activity. The 4WD stops at the base of a massive salt hill and we walk up over successive zones of white, red, orange and bright yellow salt according to the mineral contamination. The red is from manganese and the yellow is sulphur. It is strange walhing over the dried salt crust crunching underfoot. Three Ethiopian army soldiers are scouting up front carrying submachine guns are we are only 20km from the formerly disputed border with Eritrea.
Ethiopian soldier
As we reach the yellow sand sulphur smells irritate the nose and eyes belching out of a myriad little fumeroles. Tiny geysers spit boiling water over fantastically sculptured yellow salt forming iridescent blue little lacunes. There are salt caves and pools and a large pool has multiple vents bubbling yellow water up to the surface.
Salt hillsSalt hills crazily sculptured
The coup de grace sees us back out onto the massive salt plain tos see the Afar tribespeople in the heat cutting enormous pavement stone pieces of salt to trade. All around are camels resting on the salt. Soon they will be loaded with the salt blocks, tied head to tail of the camel in front for the 7 day walk across the salt and dirt to the next big town of Mekele to sell the salt. Then it is back to repeat the process.
Afar tribespeople cutting and dressing salt
Camels waiting for their load
Tonight it is sleeping in a local house in a well off village. We get word that our luggage has been found and we will be reunited with our packs tomorrow morning. In the late afternoon we sit in a shaded courtyard up in the cooler hills ringing Danakil under a grape vine strewn pergola. Cold beer and an Ethiopian curry ceremony hosted by the pretty teenage girl of the household completes the picture as we get to know our our fellow travellers.
The luggage carousel stops. Looking back through the aperture the shutter out to the baggage handlers rolls down and comes down on our travel plans. We have been to Ethiopia twice and each time they have lost our luggage.
The week in Sudan went without a hitch.We stayed up all night for our 4:30am flight and endured the feral performance of the locals at the airport. Landing at Addis it turns out our 90 minute turn around time was a bit tight as we had to race to get through immigration and across to the domestic terminal. We eventually made it but our luggage didn’t.
An hour later our tour rep arrives to take us 4 days into the wilderness of Danakil, basically 4WD and camping and we basically have the clothes we are wearing and our cameras. I leave Anthony at the airport to hassle, harry and generally kick the arse of the lazy guy tasked to find our luggage. I figure he is good at that. I go with the guide and buy some basic toiletries so we can start on the trip.
I don’t know if it is the zero sleep, the feral flight or the loss of luggage but the rest of this first day is particularly tough. We are driven over the roughest roads imaginable all day to arrive at a desolate and seemingly hostile village in 40 degree heat for our first night. The scenery is so exciting that I have taken a sum total of 3 photos for the day! The omens are bad, this is going to be an arduous journey.
A ray of hope at the end of the day when we aretaken out to a massive salt lake,Lake Assal at sunset. Our 4WD cruises over massive salt flats where the dirty grey salt is split into massive dinner plate sized chunks resembling Antarctic sea ice. We reach waters edge and enjoy the surreal landscape of pristine white salt and crystal clear water. My shutter finger is reinvigorated and gets a work out. We sleep like babies al fresco under the milky way.
Back in Khartoum every Friday near dusk sees a uniquely Sudanese event which harks back to the beginning of my story. The Mahdi who defeated General Gordon led a scion of Islam known as Sufism. These musical, mystic Moslems were referred to as the whirling dervishes after their music and vertigo inducing spinning dances. In the shadows of the Mahdi’s tomb a weekly reenactment occurs. In a country that sees few tourists this is not a tacky tourist culture show we see perhaps a dozen tourists in all. The pulsating chanting and dancing draws a hundred locals and we are privileged to be allowed to witness it.
This is a fascinating country with no shortage of top notch tourist attractions but one that has been blighted by war over decades and therefore a perception that it is unsafe for tourism. I certainly do not feel that there is any danger here for the culturally aware tourist. There is a negativity towards being photographed and twice we have been pulled up by locals asking us not to take photos, not of them but of the village or environment. By contrast at the dervishes today some of the guys were actually waving us to the front and prompting where to take the best photos. At the museum one of the locals randomly paid our admission price in a typically Muslim gesture of hospitality.
This is not a country for the novice traveller to cut his teeth on but any experienced traveller would find this country and its people well worth visiting.
Next stop Ethiopia and the ominously named Danakil Depression!
Waterfall
Capitol buildings
japanese war tunnel 
