In Ethiopia’s Bale Mountains, lions and wolves prowl and humans make honey

After a seven-hour drive south from the Ethiopian capital of Addis Ababa, past camel markets, shimmering Rift Valley lakes and seemingly endless fields of wheat and teff, the asphalt ends. A rust-red dirt track takes over and begins to climb, its heavily rutted surface slowing buses, four-wheel drives and firewood-laden donkeys to a crawl. As the air chills, driver and guide Demiss Mamo winds up the window of his well-used jeep.

“Welcome to the rooftop of Africa,” he says, swerving to avoid a giant pothole. “When most foreigners think of Ethiopia, they don’t imagine snow-clad volcanoes, cloud forest and alpine lakes. But then again, the Bale Mountains have always been a pretty unique place.”

Part of the Ethiopian Highlands, the Bale range is made up of mountains built upon mountains, with the highest volcanic peaks soaring way above 4,000 metres. These look down on the high-altitude Sanetti Plateau, a vast, undulating, largely treeless tableland that towers over the rest of southeastern Ethiopia, its southern slopes draped in the lush and mysterious Harenna Forest.

Mamo drives onwards and upwards, switching on his headlights as tendrils of mist drift across the rock-strewn land­scape. Outlandish giant lobelias begin to appear beside the track, their thick, trunk-like stems adorned with headdresses of green fronds, while fields of red hot pokers thrust upwards from the surround­ing heather with a fiery-hued dash of colour. In the distance the shallow, brooding bulk of Mount Tullu Dimtu frames the horizon.

With the light beginning to fail, Mamo pulls over and points towards a nearby rocky outcrop. Sitting next to a giant lobelia, its tawny-coloured, fox-like face fixed intently on the jeep, is an Ethiopian wolf. The striking animal rises slowly on white-socked legs and lopes elegantly towards another collection of boulders, pausing every so often to look back at the vehicle.