The real journey began the next day as we crossed the Petit Bara and Grand Bara deserts, stopping for lunch in Dikhil before continuing to Lake Abbe. A 4-wheel-drive vehicle and an experienced driver are essential, as the terrain is rough and remote.

After a 7–8 hour drive, accompanied by dromedaries, donkeys, goats, antelopes, warthogs, and baboons, we reached Lake Abbe just in time for sunset. The lake, lying directly on the Ethiopia–Djibouti border, is a surreal salt lake surrounded by limestone chimneys and steam vents.

It felt like another planet — no people, absolute silence, and the occasional jackal passing by.

Accommodation was very basic, as this is not a touristy destination. But I hadn’t come for comfort — and the next morning rewarded every sacrifice. At 5 a.m., I witnessed a jaw-dropping sunrise over the lake, flamingos feeding in the shallow water, and bubbling hot pools nearby. A word of caution: one wrong step here, and you could literally cook yourself alive.

Next, we climbed from 155 meters below sea level to almost 1,750 meters above, heading into the Goda Mountains. The off-road drive pushed our vehicle to its limits, but the views were spectacular.

Accommodation was once again basic, but I didn’t mind — especially as I was the only non-local guest. This region is home to mountain leopards; while we didn’t see one, we found tracks and remains from earlier kills during a hike through a dying forest.

By Djibouti standards, it was cold and foggy. The atmosphere was eerie — our hike felt like a scene straight out of The Walking Dead. A haunting but fascinating live testimony of climate change.

After the mysterious mountain experience, it was time for the coast. A place not to be missed is Les Sables Blancs in Tadjoura — French for White Sands.

Getting there is still an adventure, but easy compared to the mountains. What awaits you is a stunning white beach with turquoise water — and even a surprisingly decent hotel. When I visited, there were only three other people on the entire beach.

This turned out to be the second-best snorkeling spot I’ve ever experienced. Just a few meters from the shore, you’ll find coral, countless colorful fish, turtles, and stingrays. A perfect, peaceful contrast to the raw interior of the country.

Another highlight lies between Lake Assal and Lake Ghoubbet, where the African and Arabian tectonic plates meet. You can literally stand on solidified lava and place one foot on each plate.

The visible crack widens by a few centimeters every year — so come while it’s still narrow enough to straddle two continents at once.

I had previously snorkeled with whale sharks at Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia, so I was excited to experience this again in Djibouti.

In Australia, spotter planes guide boats to the sharks. In Djibouti? No plane, no technology. Just a tiny boat on Lake Ghoubbet, three locals, and me — scanning a 158 km² surface area by standing up and hoping.

After about an hour, hope faded. Then suddenly, it happened.

Within the next hour, we spotted three different whale sharks, ranging from 4–6 meters up to an incredible 10–12 meters. I managed to snorkel with them — just a few minutes each time, but completely alone. No crowds, no rush, just locals, whale sharks, and raw nature.

When you jump into the water, it helps not to think too much about what else might be swimming around.

After all these adventures, it was time to return to Djibouti City, where I spent a final day at the Sheraton Djibouti. A perfect place to unwind, enjoy some comfort, and reflect — before flying home via Cairo and Frankfurt.