Describe a walk you enjoyed

I'd like to describe a walk I did last December on Entoto, which is a mountain just on the north of Addis Ababa, my city. It's very high, nearly three thousand metres, so the air is quite cold and fresh, specially in the early morning.

I went with my father. Normally he is very busy with his work, and I am studying in Hawassa, so we don't see each other much. But I was at home for the holiday and one night he suddenly said, tomorrow we will walk to Entoto, so be ready at five thirty.

We started from the bottom when it was still dark. The road goes up through a big forest of eucalyptus trees, and the smell was very strong and nice. We saw many runners which were training on the hill, because a lot of famous Ethiopian athletes are practising there. We also passed some women carrying very big bundles of wood on their back. At the top there is an old church, and from there we could see the whole city under us, with the lights still on.

I enjoyed it because it was a rare chance to talk with my father. He told me many stories about when he was young, which I never heard before. It was the best morning of my holiday.

The walk I'd like to talk about was up Entoto, the range of hills that rises just north of Addis Ababa. It's close to three thousand metres high, so even though it's barely twenty minutes from the city centre, it feels like a completely different climate up there, especially at dawn.

I went with my father, which was unusual in itself. He works long hours and I'm at university in Hawassa, so we hardly see each other. But last December, when I was home for the holidays, he announced at dinner that we were going to walk up Entoto the next morning and that we'd be leaving at half past five, no arguments.

We set off in the dark and climbed through thick eucalyptus forest, with that sharp, almost medicinal smell all around us. As it got lighter, we kept being overtaken by runners doing hill training, since the altitude makes it a favourite spot for athletes. We also passed women heading down the slope with enormous bundles of firewood on their backs, which made our little climb feel rather easy. At the top, by an old church, we stopped and looked back, and the whole city was spread out beneath us, with its lights still flickering.

What made it special was the conversation. Somewhere on the way up, my dad started telling me stories about his student days that I'd never heard, including how he'd met with my mother. It was the first time in years that it had been just the two of us, and I didn't want it to end.

I'd like to describe a walk I took last December up Entoto, the ridge of hills that looms over the northern edge of Addis Ababa. It's nearly three thousand metres up, and although it's only a short drive from the city, the air there is noticeably thinner and colder, particularly before sunrise.

My companion was my father, which in itself made it out of the ordinary. Between his job and my studies in Hawassa, we rarely spend time together, so when he informed me over dinner that we'd be setting off at half past five the next morning, I knew better than to argue.

We started in near darkness, climbing through dense eucalyptus forest that gave off a sharp, almost medicinal scent. As the light came up, we were repeatedly overtaken by runners doing altitude training, gliding past us as if the gradient didn't exist, and we stepped aside for women carrying immense bundles of firewood down to the city, which put our own modest efforts firmly in perspective. By the time we reached the old church at the summit, the sun was just breaking through, and Addis lay spread out below us, the streetlights still glowing in the haze.

What I treasure about that morning, though, isn't the view. At some point on the climb my father, who's usually quite reserved, began telling me about his own student years, including the rather unromantic way he'd met my mother at a bus stop. I'd never heard any of it. Walking side by side seems to make it easier to talk than sitting face to face, and I suspect that's why he suggested it.