It was late in the afternoon, the sun still high in the sky when I returned — exhilarated and wobbly-kneed — from a long and unforgettable hike along the Simiens’ escarpment rim. Millennia before, Homer described these Ethiopian mountains as the playground of the gods; the time-sculpted rock formations here were their chess pieces, he claimed.

He wasn’t exaggerating. Since setting off from my lodge at dawn, I’d spent much of the day observing the world from the massif’s precipitous cliffs, gazing in awe across sweeping canyons riddled with plunging ravines and vast plateaus. From stomach-churning heights, I’d heard the whoosh of wind through the wings of lammergeyers; spied klipspringers and baboons; waded through bushy mounds of Saint John’s wort and Abyssinian rose; and had enchanting encounters with cattle-herding children who’d never before seen anyone with a mop of blond hair.