Tag Archives: disappearing world

Salt: Ethiopia’s White Gold

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As foreboding as the name ‘Danakil Depression’ perhaps sounds it is nothing more than a case of calling something that it is. First, northeast Ethiopia forms part of the 100,000 square kilometre Danakil Desert measured as being one of the hottest and lowest places on the Earth’s surface. Second, it lies at the junction of three tectonic plates – a triple junction – each drawing apart from its neighbours and leaving a basin, or depression, in the land. Eventually the separation of these tectonic plates will split the horn of Africa off the continent completely and the Danakil Depression will either become part of the Red Sea’s floor, or the bed of a new sea entirely. In approximately 100 million years.

Although the depression, which sits at 130 metres below sea level, is (very) dry land for the moment the region’s volcanic activity has meant that the area has been repeatedly flooded by the Red Sea and then sealed again with the most recent incursion being a mere 30,000 years ago. Each time the waters evaporated thick layers of salt remained and current estimates suggest deposits 800 metres thick in parts of the salt plain. Visually it is not as stunning as the Salar de Uyuni in Bolivia – appearing more of a dirty brown-white against Uyuni’s blazing white expanse – but looks are only one way to measure the worth of something. The Danakil salt plains – part of the region National Geographic has called the ‘cruelest place on Earth’ – prove that man can live anywhere if he has the will. And Ethiopians have the will.

White Gold: A Tradition Spanning the Centuries

For centuries this inhospitable and remote location has been the centre of a booming economy in salt – indeed for a long time salt blocks were the currency. Even today, when currency in measured by the Ethiopian Birr, the salt blocks mined here still have significant importance in a country 4.5 times the area of the United Kingdom. But despite the centuries the process of mining and transporting the salt has remained unchanged.

Thousands of workers spend six hours a day, six days a week, ten months a year working in small teams to mine the salt. The first job is to crack open the surface of the salt plains with pick axes and wooden poles. These large fragments are then shaped into small, rectangular blocks approximately 35cm long and weighting 4kg using only a small, bladed, hand tool. It is gruelling work in the intense heat of the desert often north of 50°C and the workers have little protection against the constant contact with salt.

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With little to protect them from the heat and salt the workers spend ten months a year crafting the salt blocks.

Whilst I believe that still photography has an impact that is usually – over time – more powerful than video, this is one of those times where video adds a lot.

 

Despite being in the Danakil region of Ethiopia, an area that is home to the Afar people, most of the salt workers are Tigrayans from the highlands to the west who have come for the work. Whilst it was unclear how many Afar salt workers there are – if any – it was clear that they owned and operated the camel caravans with their costs (and profits) coming from the 400% mark-up between how much they pay and subsequently sell the blocks for.

Once cut to size the salt blocks are tied into bundles and loaded on to camels for the two-day journey back to the town of Berhale stopping overnight at the village of Ahmed Ela.

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Camels have a well-earned rest whilst the salt blocks are cut, shaped and tied into bundles.

 

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The camel train, now in much smaller groups, arrives at the village of Ahmed Ela for the evening.

Once at Berhale the salt gets loaded onto trucks for distribution across Ethiopia ending up in factories, restaurants, and local markets.

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Salt blocks inevitably get broken along the way and these normally end up in markets.

Brown Gold: An Uncertain Future

Inevitable though it may be progress is threatening this centuries-old tradition and many of the Ethiopians I spoke to view the completion of a tarmac road – which by the end of 2014 had reached Ahmed Ela – with uneasy concern. It may seem an odd investment; roads are expensive things to construct and a camel-stop town seems an unlikely destination, and you can perhaps be forgiven for assuming an ulterior motive in its construction. And there is.

Being a geologically active area the area is exceptionally rich in minerals, especially potash which is an excellent fertiliser and one much in demand. Although potash is not scarce, its proximity to the surface in Danakil makes the region an extremely cost effective source – if you can get there. Attempts have been made in the past to mine these minerals on a commercial scale, such as the Canadian mine from the early twentieth century, but the inhospitable climate and remoteness made commercial mining uneconomic. But combine cash-rich foreign investors with an eye on long-term financial returns with modern automated machinery and mining on a large scale becomes possible, and profitable. All you need is the means to get there.

Whilst the road, which as of 2016 is apparently complete – is the first step toward the mining of mineral deposits such as potash- the salt flats are an easy target and many of those who depend upon the traditional process of salt mining  (the Afar, the Tigrayan workers, the camel-stop towns and villages) see the dawn of mechanised mining as a clear and present danger. It would be the end of a centuries-old way-of-life and put many people out of work in an area where work is hard to come by.

It would also destroy one of the few remaining wildernesses left on the planet. If that seems melodramatic, here’s a fact for you: Three mining companies have already been granted licenses to mine potash in the Danakil area and one company alone – Yaro International – is gearing up to mine 600,000 tonnes. Per year. Now imagine what that will do to the landscape in the photograph below.

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It may look a barren wilderness, but whilst I stood on the rise drinking my third litre of water that morning with the temperature edging close to 50°C and a French tourist collapsed due to heat exhaustion somewhere behind me, it was difficult to believe that a people had not only managed to survive here, but actually built a business that supported them and their families…

Hopefully the mining will be done with care and consideration for the surrounding environment, but here’s some more images of the region at the end of 2014. Just in case…

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The morning sun slowly rises above the last remaining rainwater that washed down off the Tigray highlands. Deserts are not always dry…

 

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One of our military escort walks ahead to check the valley, unusual in that everything is made of salt. Years of erosion has crafted peaks and gullies.

 

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The rainwater seen above dissolves surface salt and as the sun’s heat evaporates the water the salt crystalises out again leaving an oddly geometric pattern.

 

It may be approximately 100 million years until the horn of Africa becomes its own continent, but signs of movement are visible in this highly geologically active area.

It may be approximately 100 million years until the horn of Africa becomes its own continent, but signs of tectonic activity are always visible in this geologically active area.

 

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One of the most unique landscapes on the planet is – perhaps soon to be was – Dallol. The rich geologically active environment provides a wealth of minerals, here the yellow of sulphur. This is also its downfall; Danakil holds the World’s largest deposit of potash – an excellent fertiliser.

 

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And perhaps my favourite image from Dallol…

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The Danakil Depression: Trip Review Part 5

Today’s post is the fifth and final part of my review of the photographic expedition to the Danakil Depression. Towards the end I talk about my thoughts on what worked and what did not but let’s start by looking at days 10 through 13: The Tigray Highlands. One confusing fact to bear in mind: As we had gained a day by making an early ascent at Erta Ale, our day 10 may well be your day 11. It is hard to know if your trip will also ascend early – I cannot see why not as we weren’t rushing – and so I’ll stick to our itinerary.

Oh, you may also want to see part 1 (travel & Awash National Park), part 2 (Logia & Lake Afdera), part 3 (Erta Ale) and part 4 (Dalol).

Day 10       

Today will be your last sunrise in the Danakil Depression and the stark beauty of the barren landscape. After breakfast and once the 4WD vehicles are packed, you’ll say goodbye to the military and police escorts as they’ll no longer be needed. It also marks the return to tarmac roads courtesy of a foreign mining operation that is has set up outside Hamed Ale. Whilst making the journey smoother, it does serve as a reminder that this once remote and untouched land is no longer quite so remote, or untouched. Given that the Afar people here derive their income from two sources – the salt mining caravan trade and tourism – it is difficult to see how the new-found accessibility will be a good thing for the local ppoulation. It makes the transport required for commercial mining far, far easier which has two critical effects: (1) Make the traditional method of mining little more than a side-show and (2) it will complete the process of killing the wonderful Dalol geysers.

Shortly after leaving Hamed Ale you’ll stop to look at a geologic curiosity – fossils of coral and other marine life. In what is most definitely a dry and arid wilderness this gives a fascinating insight into the land upon which you are now standing. If I understood correctly the coral that you see is three million years old, although there have been many incursions of the Red sea both before and since. It also lends more evidence as to why the salt flats are here: Geologic activity causes the land wall separating the Danakil Depression from the Red Sea to sink, the sea rushes in and then the same geologic activity causes the land wall to rise, stranding an inland sea that evaporates leaving marine life and salt. Repeat the process over a few tens of millions of years and, well, you just spent a few days seeing the result.

A lump of three million year-old coral - one among many just found lying around the landscape. [Click to enlarge!]

A lump of three million year-old coral – one among many just found lying around the landscape. [Click to enlarge!]

You’ll then set off again and begin the climb into the Tigray Highlands. Aside from a couple of short stops there isn’t a lot to do. You’ll stop at Berhale, the terminus of the camel train that you saw at the salt flats. Whilst the isn’t a lot in the way of landscape here, a couple of things did strike me. First you’re beginning to see the life of the salt industry from birth to death and if story-telling photography is your interest, this is a wonderful opportunity, not least as it may be gone in a few years time. Second, you’re leaving the nomadic Afar behind as the makeshift tent-like structures are replaced with brick and concrete buildings.

At the end of the two-day camel caravan is Berhale, a town whose growth is due to the traditional salt industry. Here the salt is loaded onto trucks for country-wide distribution. [Click to enlarge!]

At the end of the two-day camel caravan is Berhale, a town whose growth is due to the traditional salt industry. Here the salt is loaded onto trucks for country-wide distribution. [Click to enlarge!]

Concrete and stone buildings replace the nomadic Afar's tent-like structures. [Click to enlarge!]

Concrete and stone buildings replace the nomadic Afar’s tent-like structures. [Click to enlarge!]

Chances are that you’ll stop at Berhale for lunch which for us was somewhat bittersweet as we said goodbye to the marvellous cook Muscara. Over that past few days we had all experienced living well outside our comfort zone but the good food (and good coffee!) definitely took the edge off the discomfort.

After lunch you’ll continue the ascent heading toward your destination, Wukro. Again there are a few stops to look at some more geologic curiosities – more marine fossils albeit this time at 2,000 metres up in the mountains – and you do begin to get a sense of how high you’ve climbed throughout the day.

The iPhone 6 made taking panoramic shots so easy that I never used the panoramic head on my tripod. [Click to enlarge!]

The iPhone 6 made taking panoramic shots so easy that I never used the panoramic head on my tripod. [Click to enlarge!]

Whilst there is a stark contrast between the dry and barren landscape at Dalol and green and farmed landscape of Tigray, the people are an equally stark contrast. As we approached Wukro, a place that can best be described as a large town, we saw an increase in activity: land being farmed, livestock being herded and children going to school. There were definite signs of a recognisable, familiar societal structure and as we arrived in Wukro we could see schools, hospitals, shops and hotels appear. Also in evidence were signs of electricity and sanitation infrastructures. In short, the “roughing it” phase of the trip was over – a fact made all the more real by finally arriving at our hotel.

The rest of the afternoon was spent as free time. For many of us the time was spent re-acquainting ourselves with all the luxuries that a bathroom offers and having the first proper wash in a week! I managed to gain access to the roof – not so hard as I only had to ask – and set up the solar panel. Whilst I had started the journey with a camera battery charger that could work off either mains electricity or solar panel, the rather cheap construction had seen it fail at Erta Ale. I had also forgotten to bring a mains charger for my MacBook Air and so was reliant on the battery pack that came with the solar kit to keep my laptop alive so I could begin key-wording photographs.

After dinner, most of us headed off to bed – after several days of pre-dawn mornings and variable sleeping conditions, the thought of a linen-covered bed was too enticing to ignore.

 

Day 11

After the first non-dawn start in over a week and a leisurely breakfast you’ll be off out into the Tigray highlands. At an altitude of 2,400 metres the difference in temperature is obvious and during the day you’ll not have to endure anything above 30°C which means you’ll not have to worry about taking the electrolytes any more. Also gone are the wide panoramic vistas, replaced with an undulating hill-scape.

One of the oldest of the Tigray rock-hewn churches is Abrahat Atsebah. [Click to enlarge!]

One of the oldest of the Tigray rock-hewn churches is Abrahat Atsebah. [Click to enlarge!]

One of the most visited sights in the area – and one you’ll almost definitely see – are the centuries-old rock churches, so called as they are quite literally caved into the mountain side. Unlike the Muslim Danakil region, Tigray is predominantly orthodox Christian. Those interested in architectural photography will have fun trying to capture the essence of the churches and if people are more your interest then there is plenty of opportunity for portrait/candid work.

A priest at the Wukro Cherkos rock church. [Click to enlarge!]

A priest at one of the Tigray rock churches. [Click to enlarge!]

After the church we went for a drive. For those into portrait work one of the nice things about Tigray over Danakil is that there are always people out-and-about tending to some task. As we drove we stopped a couple of times as the mood took us. One stop was to look for some geologic curiosity – more fossils – although most of us were more interested in the farmer coming up the road with cattle and donkeys. We were spotted by some school children and so there was lots of activity and posing for photos. Further on we stopped to watch some farmers thrashing hay although I was distracted by feeling increasingly ill. Next we stopped at a town although, by this point, I was really feeling awful (the cause later tracked down to a combination of high altitude and alcohol!) and so had to return to the hotel early.

The signs of agriculture can be seen everywhere in Tigray. [Click to enlarge!]

The signs of agriculture can be seen everywhere in Tigray. [Click to enlarge!]

It is hard not to take portraits when there are so many eager volunteers! [Click to enlarge!]

It is hard not to take portraits when there are so many eager volunteers! [Click to enlarge!]

Talking to the others later on, there was a general feeling that more could have been done with the day – a feeling I shared at the time. The reality is that it was still a four or five hour day and more had been planned – another rock church – but we were ahead of schedule by a day so I’m guessing that some of the activities had to be moved to give us something to do on the spare day. Thinking of it that way you can’t really blame the organisers – I would imagine that under normal circumstances it would be hard to organise outings for a group of people at short notice – and we had not been in normal circumstances.

But if you do find yourself at a loose end then a couple of the group paid one of the drivers a little extra to head back out to go and see more of the area. The expedition lead apparently wasn’t too impressed once he found out, but Tigray is far safer than Danakil – not needing a military escort was evidence of that – and it kept (the paying) clients happy. I would certainly have gone had I not been ill and so suggest that, if you do find yourself bored – and Wukro doesn’t have a lot to offer – it could be worth trying to organise a side-trip.

 

Day 12

Due to the earlier change in schedule today turned out to be a spare day for us – if your expedition keeps to schedule than everything we did yesterday and today will be condensed into a single, busy day for you.

After a very leisurely start we headed out to the second of the rock churches, Wukro Cherkos. Whilst it was interesting I was more interested in trying to cover some portrait work – something I tried in Israel – so I stayed outside for most of it trying to capture some candids.

Waiting. And watching. [Click to enlarge!]

Waiting. And watching. [Click to enlarge!]

After the church we returned to Wukro to visit the local market. It was good fun and certainly gives plenty of opportunity to take portrait/candid shots as well as pick up some souvenirs. You’ll also see the final stage of the salt industry you saw started in Danakil as most of the stalls are selling spices and, of course, salt.

A stall at the Wukro market selling spices and, of course, salt. [Click to enlarge!]

A stall at the Wukro market selling spices and, of course, salt. [Click to enlarge!]

After the market you’ll make the relatively short journey to Me’kele – Tigray’s capital city – in time for lunch. To all intents the expedition is now over and you’re going to be left to your own devices for the remainder of the time. I did struggle to get anything worthwhile (photographically) out of the afternoon as there’s not a landscape in sight, but if you’re interested in portrait or urban work the you’ll have busy afternoon.

The markings of an Orthodox Christain women. [Click to enlarge!]

The markings of an Orthodox Christain women. [Click to enlarge!]

Day 13

In the morning you’ll take a domestic flight back to the capital Addis (by now you’ll have dropped the Ababa part) and back to the hotel you started from almost two weeks earlier. As everyone’s international flight leave at different times you’ll also be saying a lot of goodbyes.

Depending upon when you leave – mine was a 2AM flight the following morning – and you’re tolerance for boredom you likely be out in the capital for at least part of the afternoon. As a city there is plenty of opportunity for portrait and urban shots.

 

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So, that is it: An overview of the only expedition to the Danakil Depression that concentrates on photography and currently the only one that spends a significant time at the Erta Ale volcano. At approx. £5,000 including flights it is certainly not cheap, and conditions for the most part are basic to say the least, so the most important question is: Do I recommend it?

The short answer is: It depends.

Before I give my views it is worth pointing out the expedition type is described by VolcanoDiscovery (the organisers) as “active volcanoes, photography, adventure” with a character that is “long, bumpy 4×4 transfers, possibly extremely hot temperatures in the desert, intense exposure to sand, salt and dust, very basic sleeping and washing conditions while outside established towns”. This, in my mind, is an accurate description of what I experienced.

Whether I recommend this trip depends on one important element: You.

Over the previous four parts of the review I have described the accommodation and the sanitary facilities at each stage of the trip and, if you haven’t already done so, I strongly urge you read these as, for some of you, it will be enough to persuade you that you’ll have a horrible time. For half the trip there are no toilets, no washing basins, no soap and certainly no showers. For most people it will be the sanitary conditions that dissuade them. The sleeping conditions are also, for half the trip basic – sleeping in rock huts on volcanic ash covered ground, for example. Even when in hotels bear in mind that this is Africa. For me, the rooms were great – clean and comfortable – but I know people who would have been shocked.

Most people who embark on a expedition like this are going to be outside of their comfort zone and so more stressed than usual. You’ll need to take a sense of purpose with you. I didn’t travel because I was half-way curious about volcanoes; I travelled because I really, really wanted to get some landscape shots of this stunning place. Others travelled because that’s what they do – travel to volcanoes around the World. Having a strong purpose for going overrode the discomfort. A sense of humour helps too: We had a great group of people who all seemed to focus on the positive aspects and were willing to make the most of the situation they were in. People like that make a big difference.

So, to summarise:

Reasons to consider this trip:

  • Excellent landscape photography.
  • You have a (more than passing) interest in volcanism or plate geology.

Reason to not consider this trip:

  • Wildlife, urban or architectural photography.
  • Portrait photography – as there are better opportunities elsewhere.
  • You simply want to see a volcano.
  • You struggle under adverse conditions.
  • You like comfort.

The highlight of the expedition, by far is the time spent at the Erta Ale volcano and lava lake. I thought Antarctica was stunning and could not be surpassed for raw, ethereal, beauty, but standing at the edge of a lake of boiling lava is an event I will carry with me for ever.

After the lava lake the next most impressive location is Dalol which is, from what we were told, in the process of disappearing due to the underground volcanic fissures that drive the geothermal activity being damaged by a potash mining operation in the area. As striking as Dalol hot springs are they are not a compelling ‘headline’ destination in their own right (at least in their current state), although there is an argument that the fact that they, and the local salt mining using traditional methods, are both under threat from extinction make them worth seeing as soon as possible.

In my opinion, the other sights we saw are ‘add-ons’, convenient sights along the way. It would have been nice to have more time at Lake Afdera, simply to get some varied landscape shots, but again, it is a stopping point en route to the main attraction.

The weakest part of the trip for me was the time spent in Tigray. Some of this may be due to the fact that we had just spent several days looking at some stunning landscapes, but still, I just didn’t find it engaging.

Aside from the locations it is worth mentioning some other aspects of the trip’s organisation.

What worked:

  • Small group.
  • Geologist guide.
  • Good drivers.
  • Good cook.

What didn’t work:

  • No generator.
  • Time spent in Tigray.
  • Lack of mineral export licenses (but you may be lucky and sneak some pieces through upon exit).

What’s essential to take:

  • Good hiking boots.
  • Electrolytes – water alone will be dangerous.
  • More camera batteries/cards than you think you’ll need.
  • Mosquito Repellent.
  • Toilet tissue/wet wipes/alcohol-based sanitiser.
  • Gas mask.
  • Wide-angle lens – 17mm on a full-frame body is perfect.

 

All of the trips I undertake get rated in an essentially simple fashion: Knowing what I now after returning, and assuming that nothing could be changed, would I spend the same money again to go a second time? Erta Ale alone makes the answer ‘yes’. Is that a recommendation?

 

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The Danakil Depression: Trip Review Part 4

The fourth and penultimate part of the trip report looks at, what for me, was the second reason for coming to the Danakil Depression: Dallol. But before you read on, you may also be interested in part 1, part 2 and part 3.

Day 7              

By now it will be no surprise that it is another early start although alas not to head out to the lava lake. The aim will be to get back down to the base camp in time for breakfast which, depending upon how fast your gear is packed on the camel and how fast you walk, will take about three hours.

The journey back down Erta Ale is pretty easy going and there will be plenty of opportunities for shooting despite setting off in pitch darkness. Sunrise will occur about an hour or so into the descent although aside from the occasional water stop you probably won’t have many – or any – extended breaks. The last time you were here was during the ascent in pitch black so it is interesting to see how various plants have found the ability to survive in the volcanic landscape. There are lots of opportunity for shooting the contrast of the green against the volcanic rock and also the volcanic ash plains that can easily be mistaken for sand. Whether you can make use of the landscape really depends upon your ability to shoot ‘on-the-go’.

Dawn approaches as we descend from Erta Ale. [Click to enlarge!]

Dawn approaches as we descend from Erta Ale. [Click to enlarge!]

I had a lot more success with the camels and, despite having no interest in wildlife photography managed, after a few attempts, to get some reasonable results of them in silhouette against the rising sun.

Once back at the base camp, you’ll likely have a couple of hours before setting off for Dalol. Aside from breakfast, which has to be prepared and then everything cleaned and repacked, the camels have to be unloaded and everything packed back in the 4WD vehicles. This will be your first chance to recharge the camera batteries (unless you packed a solar charger as I did) so make good use of it although as you can probably imagine, everyone will be in the same predicament as you.

Camels are a critical part of the Afar way-of-life and so get treated with love and care. [Click to enlarge!]

Camels are a critical part of the Afar way of life and so get treated with love and care. [Click to enlarge!]

After the vehicles are packed it will be time to head further north and up to the very top of the Danakil Depression. The journey continues along the ash plains and so expect a lot of dust. This is a dry land although surprisingly there are a lot of low bushes managing to eek out an existence here.

Despite not having to cover a lot of distance the journey is slow work; even in 4WD vehicles with skilled drivers it is not a journey to take lightly: Out here in the intense heat a flat tyre will be a real irritation; two of them begins to be a problem. We stopped to help one of the Afar locals and his family after we found their vehicle broken down, after all one day it could be one of the expedition vehicles.

Lunch time is spent at a palm oasis although it is far removed from the idealised ones you’ll see advertising tropical islands. Now that you’re back at 130 metres below sea level and in the basin (the name Danakil Depression is literally from the fact that there is a depression in the ground at Danakil) at midday the sun is really making itself felt. Most people, somewhat sensibly stayed under the cover of the palms, but I had a mission based on a mini-project of capturing the four elements: Fire, water, air and earth. I felt that, after two days at Erta Ale, I had probably captured the ‘fire’ image, and ‘water’ was covered from when I was in Iceland. ‘Earth’ was more tricky as it can be interpreted somewhat broadly but, in keeping with the extreme nature of my fire and water images, I was after an equally extreme earth shot – and the heat-seared, cracked surface I was seeing here may just work. So off I went in search of inspiration.

The sun literally bakes the ground. [Click to enlarge!]

The sun literally bakes the ground. [Click to enlarge!]

I also re-learnt a valuable lesson. I had asked earlier if there would be an opportunity to see a big area of heat-cracked ground as I was initially thinking of a nice big landscape shot with cracked ground as far as the eye could see. Apparently there was “a really nice one” coming up after lunch and so, laying prostrate on the unsurprisingly very hot ground in the noon-day sun, I was really quite tempted to give up and wait for the better opportunity coming up. But I didn’t, mainly as there was nothing else to do and I do get bored easily, so I carried on shooting a series, one of which is above. It is just as well I persevered as the “really nice one” really wasn’t and I had been very close to giving up an opportunity. So my lessons for the day were (1) always make use of the opportunities you are given even if a better one is on the horizon and (2) don’t take photographic advice from a geologist.

Ash, as far as the eye can see [Click to enlarge!]

Ash, as far as the eye can see [Click to enlarge!]

After lunch the 4WD journey continues although as the terrain changes you’ll pick up speed. By mid afternoon you’ll arrive at Hamed Ale, what best can be described as a shanty town whose sole existence is to act as a stop for the camel trains that loop between the Danakil salt flats and the town of Berhale on the Tigray lowlands. After spending a few nights on the ash floors of the shacks at Erta Ale, accommodation is a definite improvement being a bedframe out under the stars. As basic as it sounds it was comfortable and I think most of us slept well. The sanitary conditions also improve, although marginally: we now have a hole in the ground almost surrounded by corrugated iron.

Luxury is relative. After four days without a toilet the sanitary facilities at Hamed Ale were a step up. Toilet is on the left; bucket-shower on the right. [Click to enlarge!]

Luxury is relative. After four days without a toilet the sanitary facilities at Hamed Ale were a step up. Toilet is on the left; bucket-shower on the right. [Click to enlarge!]

Yes, a few days ago at Lake Afdera we were horrified at the prospect and yet now we were thankful: It’s amazing how easily your expectations can change when you’ve experienced the alternatives. As a bonus the corrugated iron toilet is one half of a structure, the other half being an equally-sized shower area. By shower I mean a bucket of water, but after three days of having to use chemical wipes to get the dirt and dust off my face, that bucket was heaven.

The rest of the afternoon is spent relaxing and heading out a short distance to watch the camel trains arrive from the salt plains loaded with their cargo. You’ll probably still be looking to charge the camera batteries – there is bound to have been a queue for in-car charging – but unless your expedition has a generator you’ll be out of luck. I simply set my solar charger up on the roof of a building we were using as a kitchen and for luggage storage and let nature work her magic. Honestly, I really recommend taking a good solar charger.

En route from the salt plains to Berhale [Click to enlarge!]

En route from the salt plains to Berhale [Click to enlarge!]

Our temporary home at Hamed Ale and a testament to the fact that travelling with the right people makes everything fun! [Click to enlarge!]

Our temporary home at Hamed Ale and a testament to the fact that travelling with the right people makes everything fun! [Click to enlarge!]

To be honest Hamed Ale is not particularly outstanding; it is a village of the same semi-permanent structures used by the Afar everywhere. They look, frankly, messy, but the Afar are a nomadic people – building permanent structures is not only pointless but would be time-consuming and costly. There is a military base here, larger than the one at the Erta Ale base camp and on the military compound is a bar with cold drinks, including beer. Indulging in a bed, rudimentary sanitary facilities and a cold drink after the past few days is guaranteed to make you smile.

It will be another early night, but falling asleep whilst looking up at the stars is a wonderful way to nod off…

 

Day 8  

It will be another pre-dawn rise today in order to go and see the second main site that the area has to offer: The hot springs at Dallol. The area is accessible at any time but the idea is to beat the midday heat – a taste of which you had yesterday at the oasis yesterday. It is worth making sure that you have (at least) two litres of water with you: When we leaving the area we heard that a lady in another group had just collapsed, presumably a combination of dehydration and poor choice of clothes from what we saw later. This is another of the “fly-by” stops that the shorter trips visit and so, as they usually don’t camp in the area, an early start also means that you’ll avoid a lot of the other groups.

Dallol was once described by National Geographic as being one of the most remote places on Earth. [Click to enlarge!]

Dallol was once described by National Geographic as being one of the most remote places on Earth. [Click to enlarge!]

The hot springs are in the caldera of the Dallol volcano and although nowhere near as active as Erta Ale – Dallol last erupted in 1926 and now displays no fluid magma – it has its own very unique appeal.

A bizarre landscape that is sadly now but a shadow of what it once was. [Click to enlarge!]

A bizarre landscape that is sadly now but a shadow of what it once was. [Click to enlarge!]

You would easily be forgiven for thinking that someone had been at work in Photoshop when looking at photographs of the area: There is an other-worldly mix of blues, greens, yellows, whites and purples. Although it has been nearly 90 years since the last eruption the area is a fracture in the Earth’s crust and a number of geysers vent here. You should heed the warnings given as although not explosive geysers such as seen in El Tatio or Yellowstone, what they lack in power they make up in substance, the pools of liquid you see around the area are high-molar mineral acid measuring less than 1.0 on the pH scale.

 

You’ll get a few hours at Dalol and despite that fact that the heat will likely have passed the 40°C mark by 10AM it is worth making the effort to stay. A few years ago the area was much larger – and all the more impressive – but a Canadian potash mining operation about 30km distant is disrupting the underground fissures that make up the plumbing system of the area and causing significant damage to the landscape in front of you. The result is a drab brown crust that is slowly replacing the fantastic multi-coloured vents and ground. Talking to the geologist with us it is quite possible that within five years this place will either be gone completely or so compromised that it won’t classify as being an ‘area’ at all.

This is what the stunning, other-worldly landscape of Dallol is becoming due to potash mining. [Click to enlarge!]

This is what the stunning, other-worldly landscape of Dallol is becoming due to potash mining. [Click to enlarge!]

The other thing that may be of interest here is the ghost town left after an Italian mining company deserted the area in the 1960s. There is not much of it left – the salt and acid rich environment likely having something to do with that, but it is a curiousity. Still scattered around the remaining furnaces are lumps of refined sulphur as a testament to the fact that the mineral-rich area is being exploited by everyone except the Ethiopians.

The area was once a riot of vivid yellows, green, blues and white. buy nearby potash mining has had a devastating effect. [Click to enlarge!]

The area was once a riot of vivid yellows, green, blues and white. but nearby potash mining has had a devastating effect. [Click to enlarge!]

The most disappointing aspect of the day was that it was so short. After leaving the bizarre landscape we returned back to the camp for lunch and then just stayed there which was more than a little frustrating from a landscape photography point-of-view simply as there is not a lot to work with, certainly in the afternoon sun. There is a lot more opportunity for portraits and candids, however, so if this is something that you are interested in then you’ll easily while away the afternoon. Some of us used the time to sort though the images from the past few days and some used the time to catch up on sleep, but I and the other photographers would much rather have been out again. The afternoon turned uneventfully into evening and then night.

 

Day 9

Like yesterday you’ll be up for dawn and heading out before the sun realises you’ve gone. We followed the same track out to the hot springs which again took us past the camel train heading out to the salt flats to pick up their cargo. You’ll almost definitely make a stop to watch them although whether you stop today or the previous day may be open for debate.

The daily camel train heading out to the salt flats to pick up their cargo of white gold. [Click to enlarge!]

The daily camel train heading out to the salt flats to pick up their cargo of white gold. [Click to enlarge!]

The camel train is a centuries-old and fundamental part of the Afar culture in Dallol. The salt still being mined on these flats was once the only form of currency and although money is now the preferred method of payment the Afar still make their living off the mining and transport of salt – or white gold as it is called. What you’ll see in the morning is the daily camel train heading out to pick up their cargo – salt blocks – before heading back to Hamed Ale for the evening. Any photographic opportunities here will be constantly in motion so, despite the heat, you may be rushing around a fair bit.

Where you actually head after that I’m not too sure; I thought that we were heading back to the hot springs, but we actually took a turn and headed off into a salt canyon. From a landscape point-of-view there’s a lot on offer here and in many ways resembles a limestone canyon with deep crevasses and odd-shaped sculptures resulting from erosion. I would like to have had more time here and so it may be worth asking ahead of time if you can – we were back at the camp by lunchtime and so the day isn’t a busy one.

Cliffs of salt dominate the landscape and provide some excellent landscape to work with. [Click to enlarge!]

Cliffs of salt dominate the landscape and provide some excellent landscape to work with. [Click to enlarge!]

From the canyon we headed out towards the salt plains stopping to look at more evidence of the fragile nature of the landscape here. The African continent is being ripped apart by geologic forces resulting in the tectonic plate upon which the African continent sits being split in two. This process is happening along the boundary of the African plate and the Arabian place and hence the geologic fault being called the Afar Triple Junction. The process is slow by human standards – approximately 100 million years – but eventually this entire region will be the seabed of a new sea.

More evidence of the destruction of a continent. This fault has only appeared in the last year and mirrors the 6500km fault that is pushing eastern Africa away from the rest of the continent. [Click to enlarge!]

More evidence of the destruction of a continent. This fault has only appeared in the last year and mirrors fault system that is pushing eastern Africa away from the rest of the continent. [Click to enlarge!]

From here you’ll head off to the salt plains, stopping at more hot springs along the way.

The salt plains are an interesting place and offer excellent opportunities for portrait and candid photography. Although not really my area of interest, it is hard not to be captivated in the centuries-old techniques of mining salt that you’ll see here. It is truly back-breaking hard labour under the unrelenting sun and the workers get paid a pittance for each block of salt that they carve from the ground. Most of the workers are not actually the Afar, but rather Tigrayans who leave the highlands to come and earn money working six hours a day, six days a week, up to ten months a year. Working in small teams and using only basic tools – pick axes and wooden poles to crack open the surface and a small, bladed, hand tool – they carve up the salt crust and shape the large fragments into small, rectangular blocks approximately 35cm long and weighting 4kg.

Getting ready to load the camel for the two-day journey back to Berhale. [Click to enlarge!]

Getting ready to load the camel for the two-day journey back to Berhale. [Click to enlarge!]

The resulting salt blocks are then stacked, tied together and loaded onto camels and donkeys for the 50km, two-day journey to Berhale where from where they will be distributed across Ethiopia.

As with the hot springs that you saw yesterday, the salt miners that you see today are living on borrowed time: A new tarmac road – the first of its kind in the area – has just been completed in December 2014 – and with it the ability to get large-scale commercial transport into the area. Given that salt mining is a lucrative business it won’t be long before a commercial mining operation is set up at which point the centuries-old tradition that you see now will all but fade away.

After visiting the salt plains we returned back to the camp for lunch and more ‘free time’ which was more than a little disappointing given the opportunities that were available but needed a 4WD to get to. It may be possible – and I didn’t even think to ask at the time – to pay a bit extra and head back out, although you’ll have to pay for a military and police escort as well as the driver’s time. However, I suspect that you won’t be the only one willing to pay for the opportunity.

Today is also the last day that you are in the Danakil region and among the Afar people so if you are interested in cultural or portrait work this will be your last time to interact with these proud people.

In the fifth and final part I’ll look at the time spent in the Tigray highlands and discuss the expedition’s strengths and weaknesses.

 

Some more images…

Descending from Erta Ale. [Click to enlarge!]

Descending from Erta Ale. [Click to enlarge!]

An Afar military guard watches the only road in to the area. [Click to enlarge!]

An Afar military guard watches the only road in to the area. [Click to enlarge!]

Life survives in even the harshest environment. [Click to enlarge!]

Life survives in even the harshest environment. [Click to enlarge!]

Dunes of volcanic ash [Click to enlarge!]

Dunes of volcanic ash [Click to enlarge!]

Years of use has produced a polished salt track across the land. [Click to enlarge!]

Years of use has produced a polished salt track across the land. [Click to enlarge!]

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My (Second) Top Five of 2014: The Expedition

Maybe it is age or maybe just being too pre-occupied with other things right now but my grand plan to reveal my top five images of 2014 hit a bit of a snag yesterday when I suddenly realised that I’ve already posted about them over the past few months! I could of course just run through them again, but where is the fun in that. So I’m going to try again and this post about my second top five. Technically that would make them part of my top ten, but – and this is hard to explain – they are not images six to ten. They are a top five of their own in my mind. So, with that cleared up…

Brattafonn, Iceland.

Fimmvörðuháls is not a place that has global recognition, but it could have been a very different story…

 

Back in 2010 Iceland, which hitherto the World at large had only modest interest in, suddenly found itself a bit of a media darling. The fact the you know exactly why is proof of that, but just in case you have forgotten, it was the year that a rather unimpressive volcano had a minor eruption and – only due to a freak sequence of events – did it have global implications. Yes, Eyjafjallajökull become the household word that no-one mentioned, although only because no-one could pronounce it. At some point an inspired American presenter referred to it as E-15 (‘E’ followed by an unfathomable combination of 15 characters) and the name stuck. So it was rather obvious that, on the travels along the southern coast, I wasn’t not going to see it if I could.

The thing that most people do not know – and I only knew as I researched it – is that there were three eruptions at Eyjafjallajökull in 2010 each with a few weeks of each other. The first took place slightly off centre at the mountain pass of Fimmvörðuháls and was fairly uneventful – even referred to as a ‘tourist eruption’ by the guides – due to the fact that you could pretty much stand around and watch the eruption. It was the second eruption that caused the chaos. You still can’t get to the site of the second eruption, the area being not only officially out-of-bounds, but also because it is geologically unstable and hence not worth the risk. But the site of the first eruption is a different story.

It may have been a ‘tourist eruption, but the ground still steams as the hot ground hot evaporates off the snow. We were hiking up to Magni, one of the two new craters that had been formed and this is the view that greeted us upon out arrival. It is not particularly high up – only 1200 metres or so, but the mountain pass of Fimmvörðuháls sits between two glacial caps and the surrounding peaks cause weather fronts to back up as they struggle to climb over the high ground. The pass is also part of the popular three (or four) day hike between Skógar to the south and Þórsmörk (Thorsmork) to the north. The weather was closing in again rapidly and we were just getting ready to head back down when  a group of intrepid hikers were making their way along the path en route to  Þórsmörk.

This image really sums up one of the aspects of my photographs I most like: It is spartan. I am not keen on ‘busy’ images, I like negative space and how a few details can convey a feeling or a mood. The old adage is that a picture can convey a thousand words, but often you only need a few to make a point. It is this aspect of my work I am keen to develope.

I do envy that they got to stay and experience the power and beauty of nature whilst we had to return down the mountain.

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The Day I Realised That I Would Outlive the World.

In a recent post on Facebook announcing my beginning to plan the 2015 photography expedition to Erta Ale, a friend replied and questioned, somewhat jokingly (at least I think it was jokingly) as to whether my shift away from architectural photography to landscape photography was the result of an early midlife crisis. I can categorically state that this is not the case, based on three facts. And here they are…

First, any midlife crisis I suffer now would not be an early one.

Second, I think I already had my midlife crisis when I was around 27, which at least got that out of the way, although it wasn’t a particularly impressive one as, like most 27 year-olds, there isn’t much at that age to have a crisis about. It was probably more a long sulk than an actual crisis.

Third, and the real reason for my shift to landscapes can, very definitely, be attributed to one particular experience in 2010 when I visited a place that is probably the most strikingly beautiful place I have ever seen. That place is Southwest Bolivia.

Now, the whole of southwest Bolivia is stunning and a single post wouldn’t really do it justice, so this time I want to reminisce about one particular part: The Salar de Uyuni.

The Salar de Uyuni is hard to miss - you can even see it from the moon. (Hint: Not that you need help but it is the white bit!)

The Salar de Uyuni is hard to miss – you can even see it from the moon. (Hint: Not that you need help but it is the white bit!)

 

There is an urban myth about being able to see the Great Wall of China from space, but when Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin set foot on the moon for the first time in 1969 they definitely spotted the Salar de Uyuni, apparently mistaking it for a glacier.

For anything to be seen, unaided, from the moon it has to be big. And at 4,100 square miles (10,500 square km) the salar certainly is big. Neil and Buzz can be forgiven for thinking that it was a glacier as there aren’t really many alternatives for geologic features that are pure white. But there is one: Salt. The Salar de Uyuni is not only the World’s largest salt flats, but at an altitude of 3,650 metres it is the highest too. The salar’s existence can be traced back to the very formation of the Andes when the Nazca tectonic plate subducted below the South American continental plate forcing the latter, in places five kilometres skywards. During this (geologically speaking) abrupt process, a vast amount of sea water was scoped up and when the area settled down a rather bizarre sea was created at around 3,650 metres. Over the millennia evaporation has reduced the sea to nothing but its constituent minerals and being nestled in the northern Andes – referred to as the ‘Dry Andes’ being close to the equator – with an monthly rainfall of approximately 1 mm there is little danger of the sea returning.

This is what a sea looks like after several million years of evaporation.

This is what a sea looks like after millennia of evaporation.

 

Now, the most obvious aspect of the salar is that it is so dazzlingly white although this is perhaps a little unsurprising given that there is an estimated ten billion tonnes of salt contained within. The next thing to notice is that it is also very, very flat. So flat, in fact, that orbiting satellites use the salar to calibrate their altimeters as they pass overhead. The high altitude, near perfectly clear blue skies and high reflectivity of the surface makes the salar an ideal calibration tool.

 

The evaporating waters from the ‘rainy’ season leave a flat surface with a curious pattern.

The evaporating waters from the ‘rainy’ season leave a flat surface with a curious pattern.

 

The reason the salar is so flat is that during the rainy season (‘rainy’ being a relative term in a desert) the rain water dissolves the salt at the surface. When the rain water evaporates, a uniformly flat surface is left, albeit one with a geometric pattern. There is a bunch of science as to why the pattern emerges that I once understood, but has long since been lost…

When researching the salar, it was difficult to find a widely agreed figure for the depth of the salt, but in the end I found the Mineral Corporation of Bolivia’s website. It appears that a 1989 study by a French research institute drilled a borehole down 120 metres while a 2004 study by American Duke University drilled a similar borehole down 214 metres. In both cases they found alternating layers of salt crust and clay – in the latter study a total 170 metres of salt – without touching the bottom of the salar. Of course, it’s not that deep over the entire salar, but even so, it’s impressive. Photographs really do not do justice to the area and to really appreciate the beauty of the salar you have to go and experience it yourself. And that leads me on to the pivotal moment when I changed from architecture to landscape photography.

Bolivia is one of the poorest countries on Earth and one that derives a lot of its income from tourism and a limited mineral and metal export industry. The export industry is limited due to the radical left government’s unwillingness to form trade partnerships with US and European companies. The lack of large scale trade partnerships makes tourism all the more important to the income of your average Bolivian and the salar is a major tourist draw. So, what I learnt next was the catalyst to my change.

Aside from the 10 billion tonnes of salt covering the salar, there is a far more precious element beneath the surface and one that you, and everyone you know, depends on every day. It is an element that has, in the last twenty years, become a globally sought resource and one that, for the foreseeable future will shape your daily existence.

Under all that salt is lithium. The element is found in every single piece of modern portable consumer electronics. Phones, tablets, battery-powered watches, GPS units, laptops and increasingly hybrid and electric vehicles.  Your reliance on any of these is a reliance on the underlying power source. And that, right now, is lithium. The problem for Bolivia and for the salar is that there is an estimated 9 million tonnes of lithium under the surface or, to put that in a global context, approximately 35% of the World’s total lithium deposits, based on the most conservative of estimates.

Now, that doesn’t seem to be so much of a problem. You’re a desperately poor nation, but you just happen to have a significant proportion of one of the most sought after elements in the World as a natural resource. But just like winning a rollover lottery, all this good fortune will come at a price.

The first is political: To date billions of dollars of investment have been offered to the Bolivian government and all offers have been declined. But with the increase in public interest in hybrid and electric vehicles, which require far larger batteries, now seeing the car industry showing interest in lithium the drive to find resources will only see Bolivia under more pressure to develop trade partnerships.

The second is logistical: The lithium is 3,650 metres up on the altiplano with no infrastructure. No roads, no electricity, no gas, no water. Getting to the lithium will require developing all these infrastructures as well as the mining facilities and that is a lot of time and expense.

But, for me, it was that third impact that made me reconsider my views. In order to mine the lithium, the salar – as a stunning piece of natural beauty – must go. You cannot have a mining operation and an area of natural beauty side-by-side. Even if you start with a small mining operation, it will grow as time, and demand, increases. And as I discovered whilst reading an article earlier this year that is exactly what is happening.

So, at the time, whilst standing atop Isla Incawasi I realised that by 2020 the beauty of Salar de Uyuni may be forever lost. This may be my last chance to experience it. And what of the other places I had idly wanted to visit: the Arctic, the Antarctic, Peru, Jordan and Cambodia? How long before they too are irrecoverably altered? So that is when I changed to landscape photography: The day that I realised that I’ll outlive parts of the World around me.

Whilst the salt may be unusually flat, this is still high up in the Andes. Volcanoes and other mountains can soar up to 2,000 metres higher. Here I’m a mere 100 metres higher.

Whilst the salt may be unusually flat, this is still high up in the Andes. Volcanoes and other mountains can soar up to 2,000 metres higher. Here I’m a mere 100 metres higher.

 

The dark tracks that can be seen crossing the surface are unofficial 4WD paths. Whether this is to preserve as much of the beauty as possible or simply to avoid getting lost is one of many questions I have no answer to.

The dark tracks that can be seen crossing the surface are 4WD paths. Whether they stick to the same route to preserve as much of the beauty as possible or simply to avoid getting lost is one of many questions I have no answer to.

 

This is Isla Incawasi, a refuge for cacti that, despite the high salt content and lack of water continue to grow at a rate of 2.5 cm per year.

This is Isla Incawasi, a refuge for cacti that, despite the high salt content and lack of water continue to grow at a rate of 2.5 cm per year.

 

At 3,650m there day/night temperature variance is not to be ignored. Walking across the salar would be suicide unless properly prepared. And pack your sun block too. UV radiation is three times stronger at this altitude than at sea level.

At 3,650m there day/night temperature variance is not to be ignored. Walking across the salar would be suicide unless properly prepared. And pack your sun block too. UV radiation is three times stronger at this altitude than at sea level.

 

The near perfect flatness and vast size of the salar gives the brain a hard time when interpreting perspective, a fact tourists have loved for years.

The near perfect flatness and vast size of the salar gives the brain a hard time when interpreting perspective, a fact tourists have loved for years.

 

A salt hotel is no idle title – The building is made of salt, the table and chairs are made of salt, the beds are even made of salt.

A salt hotel is no idle title – The building is made of salt, the table and chairs are made of salt, the beds are even made of salt.

 

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