After a long wait at the airport for my luggage, a friendly taxi driver picked me up and we proceeded to the truck that would taking me further. A short hour later I met my truck driver who was pulling a 14 hour shift to drive his load of cabbage to Arba Minch. Besides "take 5", or pound it, he didn't speak English at all which promised to be an interesting ride. Fortunately the bus boy, who is supposed to help the driver, feed him Mira or Chat and hand him sniffing tobacco did, so he was my only point of some kind of information. "Why do you drive at night instead of during the day?", I asked. He replied with a confident "Yes". Perfect.
The trip was long and cumbersome and sitting in the middle of the two transporters without a headrest meant it was nearly impossible to sleep. In between dosing off and waking up to the sound of them hitting the tires with a stick to check we didn't have a puncture I barely got any rest. At one point around 3 am, they stopped to ask another truck driver something. I asked what it was about, he said that the mountains we were going through were dangerous. "The mountains or people?" I enquired, "People" he replied.