Category Archives: Iran

Day 302 – Stats 111 Iran

Another extremely relaxed day at the campground. We went out for dinner, but that was it. So without further ado, another bit of trip data.

Country data #11: Iran

Full screen version of the map

  • 6141 km in total (5845 km of GPS tracked)
  • 22 travel days, 27 days total
  • $23.48 Average cost per night (15x room, 10x camping and 2x invitation)
  • 297.19l of standard fuel for $ 132.04 (4.84 l / 100km)
  • ~$11.13 for food eating out some times, 3x invitations
  • ~$1,600 in total.

All $ values are converted to NZD.

Day 295 – Grenzerfahrung

Last bit of road in Iran

Last bit of road in Iran

Writing the blog post from two days ago in the morning, with the thoughts on returning home at the end, left us in a bit of a low mood after breakfast. Thus, packing took extra long this morning. Not a big deal, though. We had only 130 km to go to the border.

Near lunch time we hit the border town of Maku. We filled up one last time with the obscenely cheap fuel and sat down along the main road through that narrow valley for lunch. It is always good to tackle a border with all primary functions tended to. Just as we were doing some last minutes preparations (I forgot to take proof of my German bike insurance which is valid and required in Turkey) Iran decided to give us a very Iranian parting gift. A guy jumped out of a taxi, shoved a melon and some bananas into my unsuspecting hands and jumped back into the taxi with a “welcome to Iran!”. Now we had bananas and a melon to declare as well – and another amazing memory of Irani hospitality.

Random gift of bananas and a honey melon. A melon?!?

Random gift of bananas and a honey melon. A melon?!?

We reached the border shortly thereafter. By the looks of it, it is only ever used by thousands of trucks or pedestrians. There is a lane for passenger vehicle crossing, but all booths are abandoned and no one was to be seen. It was relatively easy after all. Dodge the hawkers, find an official and then get led to the equivalent desk in the pedestrian terminal through back doors. Maybe 45 minutes later we stood in front of the two gates that separate Iran from Turkey with all the required stamps. Iran opened its gate for us and we called over to the Turkish guys …

… and waited. A long while. The Turkish border guards who saw us after one minute played manly man games with the Iranians and us. They left us hanging for about 20 minutes before pushing the the button that would open the gate. What a great start. Smile and wave …

Note the line of truck starting at least 6km before the actual border

Note the line of truck starting at least 6km before the actual border

We had to work around a similar way on the Turkish side. Passport immigration police guy was only available in the passenger terminal, so through some more back doors we went and met Mr. Grumpy Number two. I will never understand why some guys feel the need to underline their authority with outward rudeness. It did not get better when he saw our German passports. “Deutsche? …” sneer … then he only stamped one passport and got really annoyed when I remarked that I would like to get an entry stamp, too. Smile and wave …

Great light and dark due to the rain clouds

Great light and dark due to the rain clouds

Luckily customs guy did not know what to do, really, so our workaround regarding the insurance remained untested. I helped him with the carnet and off we went, into thick storm clouds on the horizon. We put our full rain gear on, ducked down and headed into the Kurdish town of Doĝubayazit. This grey border town had nothing to offer, neither phone shop nor ATM in sight, so we pushed on northwards along the border.

Our first sight in Turkey was the former Armenian capital of Ani. To get there, all roads lead through Kars, the regional center. En route there, I felt the strong need to answer nature’s call and we stopped on the first pass. Right then a van pulled over and four soldier type guys came out. One was a sergeant and had this way about asking what we were up to that showed suspicion hidden behind mere curiosity. We moved along.

The world appeared to end at the horizon so I, wisely, packed the camera away

The world appeared to end at the horizon so I, wisely, packed the camera away

The rain started for real beyond the pass, with lightning and thunder hitting left and right. It was cold, too, and just kept on getting colder as we got closer to Kars. The last pass went over 2300m, we were soaked and shivering by this point. Looking around there were still patches of snow on the ground…no wonder it was cold! We had done another 200 km on the Turkish side by then and stopped at a petrol station maybe 5km before the longed after hotel. The guys there took pity on us and shouted us a hot çay (tea). That got us the rest of the way through freezing rain without frostbite.

The hotel was cheap, which was the best to say about it, really. To make up for it, we went out that night to a really nice restaurant. What a treat – tablecloth, fresh bread and really good not-kebab food. Just what we needed to get the spirits back up again!

Day 294 – Last things

We got a 3 bed room to spread out - wohoo

We got a 3 bed room to spread out – wohoo

Our room in Tabriz was amazingly cozy. Combined with a breakfast that was brought to your room (i.e. breakfast in bed…such luxury!), we didn’t really want to leave. Instead, after finishing the fresh bread, honey and cheese, we continued to nibble on the sweets as we had a whole pot of tea which went great with them. We also still had to post the last blog post.

Around 11am, we finally packed up. While carrying everything to the bike, we ran into the couple from twentyonesteps.net again. Not having taken a single picture of them yesterday, I asked for a bit of a photoshoot before they drove off.

this one took 165 km out of the journey from Tabriz

this one took 165 km out of the journey from Tabriz

Today’s plan was to ride on the bridge over Lake Orumiyeh which looked like a salt lake when we approached. The lake has been almost separated by two long piers which have been connected by a rather small bridge. Riding onto the pier on our side, there was a toll booth but the guy inside waved us through: Motorcycles are free. 🙂

We stopped for a bit as we hit the pier on the other side but really there was not much to do other than look out on the water with a pink tint. Continuing on to the town of Orumiyeh, we headed to Shemaran Restaurant, a small tea house serving dizi. Dizi is a stew that you can mash to your own heart’s desire as the vegetables, at least, come in big chunks. Unfortunately, there was no vegetarian dizi…so the owner fished out the meat pieces from mine and I ate half of the stew. It was a bit strange though…

Flo enjoyed the hearty stew and we still had chay afterwards. Well fed, we started on the last 300km in Iran towards the border town of Maku. With no intention to arrive there today, the mountains about 100km from it looked like a good place for a last camp spot. With another round of lightning and thunder overhead, we tried a couple of places before settling on a not ideal spot. It was visible from the road but far away so we weren’t bothered.

Day 293 – The end is neigh

The meadow was full of poppies and yellow flowers

The meadow was full of poppies and yellow flowers

We did good yesterday, in terms of distance. That meant that we only had two hours to go to Tabriz, giving us ample time to upload 6! blog entries and do a bit of sight-seeing as well. The first guesthouse we aimed at was jackpot, right away.

I came into Darya guesthouse only to stumble over two German overlanders in the process of checking out. They had only good things to say – the price was right and the parking safe. Meanwhile Nina got into a little chat with another young couple staying at the guesthouse. We booked in without much hesitation, unloaded the bike and got it parked safe and sound in a chicken coop in a backyard around the corner.

Cream-filled puff pastry! Success!

Cream-filled puff pastry! Success!

There were a couple of hours of light chilling and blogging, including a good afternoon nap. At about 4 pm we made our way to town to do a bit of sightseeing still. The main draw for us was the UNESCO world heritage bazaar, which also had the money changer that we needed. Once again, the bazaar was a really cool experience and with far less motorcycle dodging than Esfahan’s. Shame on me though, I forgot to re-stock our date supply.

After that, we felt like some more relaxing and went to look for a recommended tea house in another shopping street. It turned out to be hard to pin down, but as always in Iran there were helpful locals all around who could lead us around the corner to the back-alley entrance. The tea house was super cool – a brick vault with a fountain in the middle. Judging by the people around, this was just our crowd. Heaps of “slipping” hijabs …

Cozy seats around the fountain and real daybeds further up

Cozy seats around the fountain and real daybeds further up

Tea and baklava were good, but by now we needed something more substantial to fill the hole in our stomachs. So off we went in search for another recommended restaurant, but this time in vain. We passed the spot three time, but not even the friendly locals were able to find it for us. We did, however, find two more stragglers in search of food. Giona and Uliana, the young couple from earlier at the hotel, were looking for the same place. Spontaneously, we decided to join up and try our luck together at the next place.

Sadly, this one was closed as well. People told us earlier that today is an Islamic holiday in Iran. That might explain it. Uliana knew that the kebab shop next to our hotel would do vegetarian kebabs, so we defaulted to that place. What was lacking in the taste department was more than compensated by the good company. Uliana and Giona are overlanding in a 4×4 campervan from Europe to Mongolia and back. It was also refreshing to chat with more “global citizens” with a more complicated idea of home. There were at least seven languages spoken between us, with English and German as the lingua franca of choice.

Tabriz had some very particular shapes for their cookies...filled with lemon jam...yum

Tabriz had some very particular shapes for their cookies…filled with lemon jam…yum

After dinner, we had to pay one more visit to one of the many sweet shops in town to restock Nina’s supply before retreating to bed for one more blog post …

 

… not yet. I keep on forgetting to write about a big looming cloud that is constantly at least on my mind. We continue to travel and do things as we have done them and so write blog posts that are probably similar to Australia or Asia. But every day now, my thought wander to Germany. Where money was our big worry in South East Asia, re-integration is it for Iran. We have not lived in Germany for years. A lot has changed since then, mostly for us and our outlook on and expectation of life. Every second interaction with Europeans is a dreadful reminder of the reasons we left in the first place.

So I keep on worrying, scheming and planning. What route to take from Istanbul? What about health insurance, warrant of fitness for the bike. Will I find a job? When to start applying? How to do a German style CV … on and on it keeps on encroaching on my everyday thoughts. Tabriz was the last city in Iran, from tomorrow on we will head for the border. In two days, we will be in Turkey, the last country we will travel in for this trip.

Then, Europe. A crazy sprint through Eastern Europe and then the culture shock of being back. Stopping. Resting. Building a life once again. In a place I am not sure I want to live in again. The end is neigh …

Day 292 – Aras River Valley

No snakes or other big creepy crawlies to report in the grass

No snakes or other big creepy crawlies to report in the grass

Our camp spot remained hidden until we had packed up in the morning. All that we left behind was a patch of flattened grass…and an allan key that Flo luckily discovered when he rode Rocinante out of the meadow. From here, it was another 130km to Babak Castle which we wanted to see. The first moment of joy came early when it was confirmed that the nasty noise from yesterday was indeed the chain that was too loose.

Riding in the morning, up in the mountains was cold but beautiful. We made good progress and arrived in Kaleybar, the village next to the castle, around 11 am. I felt like the whole vilage smelled of freshly baked bread. We stopped to try and figure out how to get to Babak Castle as there was no sign in the village so I hopped off the bike to buy some of that fresh bread. The bread here is still a flat bread but much thicker than the usual sheets and reminds me a ot of Turkish flat bread. Asking for two loafs, the baker gave them to me for free, still warm. Thus, we both had a bite of warm, fresh bread and were really keen on lunch soon.

up in that white blob would be the castle

up in that white blob would be the castle

Up the mountain side, we found the path that leads up to Babak Castle but the whole top was in clouds. Not wanting to spend an hour hiking up, paying the entrance fee and then hiking back down for no views, we decided to skip the castle. With just a hint of regret, we moved on. At least we have done the Assassins’ Castles in Alamut Valley.

Going over the mountain range, the weather got worse. It didn’t rain but the clouds were hanging really low. The visibility got incredibly poor; to me it looked like a range of three meters. Many cars stopped (why don’t Persians turn their lights on in bad conditions?) but it was too cold for that so we slowly rode on. It remained this way until we got back down on the other side where we greeted the sun enthusiastically and stopped for a great lunch break.

Real borders are strange. left Iran, right Azerbaijan

Real borders are strange. left Iran, right Azerbaijan

Entering the Aras River Valley from the east, we rode towards Jolfa. The river seems to be the natural border between Iran and the neighbouring countries: First you ride along the Persian side of the river with Azerbaijan on the other side which, after a while, becomes Armenia instead. The river valley with its towering mountains to both sides is quite the experience. When it is flat enough, locals sell their honey and fruits on the road side but mostly, you see watch towers and guys from the army keeping an eye on the border…if you see anyone at all.

Walking towards the main building of the monastery

Walking towards the main building of the monastery

Following the river for 120km, we reached Jolfa which is the border town with Armenia. It’s not a touristy place but quite industrial and the amount of Turkish goods available increased drastically. We didn’t stay but only stocked up on food before heading out to the St. Stephanos monastery, an Armenian church that is a Unesco World Heritage Site. The ride there was beautiful, just interrupted by a police check point, and the site itself was rather busy with Iranians. Many decided to have a picnic in the wider monastery as only the main building has an entrance fee.

This is well preserved

This is well preserved

The church has been renovated and is pretty from the outside. Especially the southern courtyard with its blooming roses makes for a good place to spend some time. The inside is less well preserved and there were scaffolds around so maybe it’s not finished yet. While wandering around, we got quite a few requests for photos again, but one lady also offered to take a picture of the two of us.

Leaving St. Stephanos in the evening light made for a pretty ride. Some of the mountains looked red now and I tried to take photos without getting the police check point on it (which I nearly did). This time, we just passed through Jolfa to get fuel. It was getting late so we set the GPS to our next destination, the city of Tabriz, and left. About 20km out of Jolfa, we found a great camping spot off the road where we had a view of the hills and Flo cooked a delicious dinner. We only attracted the attention of one shepherd who promptly had his flock of sheep circle us once so he could have a look. Sheep are the ultimate eating machines; it was so noisy when the flock passed our tent.

 

Day 291 – Thick as a brick

Our awesome view was almost entirely replaced by fog and rain

Our awesome view was almost entirely replaced by fog and rain

As we got up in the morning, we sure got a load full of what Iranians come here for: Thick fog and drizzly rain. We got up a bit early since our guesthouse owner insisted, three times, that we would leave at 8 am. Everything was done, packed and ready to go onto the bike – yet no guy and thus no passport anywhere in sight. We made the best of it and got the bike loaded up. When it was all done, there was still no one to be seen. I gave him a call in the end and I am pretty sure I woke him up, that joker.

Almost an hour late and packed like little Michelin men we hopped on the bike to brave the rain. I briefly considered taking the pass from here to Tabriz, but a quick inquiry revealed that it was unsealed. Not something I’d like to tackle in the cold and wet. That meant back to the Caspian Sea and due north instead.

Sorry for the creepy look. That's what you get for trying to take pictures in the pouring rain!

Sorry for the creepy look. That’s what you get for trying to take pictures in the pouring rain!

Nina’s comment: We stopped shortly in the first village that we reached from Masuleh: Fouman. Already on the way in I had seen posters of a particular kind of pastry everywhere. Now, on the way back, I bought two of them to try. It’s a pastry filled with a cinnamon paste that is eaten warm and it was just the thing to try when you ride through the rain. By the time we thought of taking a picture, even Flo had bitten into his. The boy who had sold me the pastries saw what we were doing and ran out into the rain to give me a free third one so that we could take a picture of a whole one. So freaking nice!

The forests are so wet that fog escapes from them into the sky

The forests are so wet that fog escapes from them into the sky

The ride along the coastline was much the same, but at least with fewer towns and tacky tourism than yesterday. Repeated showers hit us from a clouded sky in regular intervals while we made good progress towards the pass to Ardabil. We did briefly consider to stay at the coast, but we were still itching for some more km (and better weather).

The pass was a dodgy affair in the rain and with heaps of weekend traffic. It got even more disconcerting when we hit the cloud level and visibility was reduced to 25m at times. Even this did not stop some Peykamicazees to barrel on at 75 km/h. I was mostly worried with how slippery the road was.

Another round of emptying out the puddle

Another round of emptying out the puddle

It was a big relief to hit the top and come over onto the Ardabil plain. Just, that it was cold, so very cold. It got better for me when I drained my left shoe for the second time of the day and ran some laps to heat up.

Back on the bike, a noise that started this morning got me more and more worried. A metallic rattle when accelerating. It was a bit hard to pin down, since it only sounded in gear under load. All potential loose screws were checked but nothing could be found. When we started looking for a camp spot, I got one more clue and it was horrifying. I could feel a rattling crunch via the gear lever, further narrowing the scope. Some loose part in the gear box? 1000 km before the border? Nothing could be done for now though, so we continued our search for the spot while moving towards the next item on our “to see” list.

Looks like the perfect environment for camping

Looks like the perfect environment for camping

The third try was the charm this time. After a beautiful site that unfortunately was always in view of the road and another one that had a settlement nearby, we scored. A little orchard tucked about 100m from a bend in the road provided perfect cover from prying eyes and the deep grass made for a great camp spot. It was quite cold though, as it turned out after dinner.

Regarding the bike, I went to bed thinking I might have dodged a huge bullet, though. While doing one last thorough check and opening the front sprocket cover to check for damage there, I noticed scratch marks on the chain. It was loose! Like, really loose and it looked like it had scratched a lot today. Come to think of it, the last time I adjusted the chain was in Sohar … idiot that I am. Let’s see. Tomorrow’s first kilometers will tell.

Day 290 – Princes of the Caspian Sea

the mountain wearing a veil

the mountain wearing a veil

We were lucky: Despite the thunderstorm at night, our tents were dry by the time we got up. Again, we could hear the wolves howl at night but Flo said they must have gotten into a fight with the dogs as he heard some serious fighting noises. I am just thankful for my earplugs otherwise I might have lost A LOT of sleep…

Joris was all packed up by the time one single cloud dribbled rain drops on us but our tent was still standing. It wasn’t too bad though; we narrowly escaped the really bad weather. For now, the sun returned and we followed a road around the mountain for another 20km before getting back onto the main road.

Stop time is photo time!

Stop time is photo time!

Leaving our camping spot, we had to wait for a flock of sheep to get off the road which made for quite the picturesque scene.

Mountain roads in Iran are lovely but as soon as we got back onto the main road the traffic became horrific. Not dangerous or crazy just pulling-your-hair-out-in-despair congested. It was one single line of cars crawling up and down through the valleys with no end in sight. Since it was Thursday, I wondered if all these cars belong to Tehranis who escape to the Caspian Sea for the weekend. The riding wasn’t fun even if we made way better progress than any car as Joris and Flo were overtaking left and right. Behind us, dark, stormy clouds were gathering and thunder rolled over the valleys. Somehow, we managed to skirt the rain only ever getting slightly wet. So we kept going and going and going through bad traffic and chased by bad weather.

Time to say goodbye

Time to say goodbye

Finally, we arrived in Muhammedin, the city where our paths would separate again. Flo sorted out the data code for his mobile phone so that we have mobile internet again and while waiting, Joris found a bakery where he bought lunch and we got doughnuts as snacks for the beach. Thus, a Transalp and an Africa Twin arrived at the shore of the Caspian Sea.

The Caspian Sea…the Lonely Planet already warns travellers that it is not pretty. Polluted by every country that borders it, an algae grows rapidly in it and it is close to extinction of the fish (and thus caviar) population. The reason why it is a popular spot for Iranis is because of all the lovely rain the shore gets; a fascination no European will ever share. With our treasures from the bakery, we sat down in a shoreside pavilion for a shared lunch. Then, it was time to say good bye. It was the first time we travelled together with a fellow overlander for a bit and we liked the experience. Plus, Joris is probably the most laid back traveller possible. 🙂 Looking forward to meeting up again at some point in Europe but for now: Safe travels, Joris!

Back on our own, we continued along the Caspian Sea. It is not pretty. Most of the time, the sea is completely hidden by the 1970s hotel complexes in rather poor repair. Between the hotels, you find all sorts of shops for brands like Levi’s or Hilfiger and we were not sure if those are copies or the real thing. After a while and some desperate searching we ended up at “KFC” for lunch. As one might expect, it was overpriced and not good. Continuing on our way, it drizzled on and off and the grey sky made us both really tired. However, we couldn’t find a hotel that looked inviting so we decided to try and camp. Since we had descended to the Caspian Sea, forests were the main feature of the landscape. With so many trees to hide behind, camping shouldn’t be a problem. We stocked up on food and started looking. Shouldn’t yes, but it was a problem; suddenly the density of population was overwhelming. Behind every hill was a village and on every slope was a house. After three serious tries with getting off the main road and trying to get into the no-mans-land, we gave up. By now, Masuleh was only 70km away. Masuleh is an ancient mountainside village that is known for its houses; it is so steep that the roofs of one row of houses work as footpaths for the next row up. Getting there would be a real push but camping was impossible here and we didn’t want to stay in a probably overpriced ugly hotel.

almost there, only 35 km to go

almost there, only 35 km to go

Once we left the city of Rasht behind us (which was annoying in the evening rush hour) and started to get into the mountains again, we both felt better. It was pretty here and we could probably find a camping spot if we had to. A lot of people were around, most of them having a picnic and all the restaurants had colourful light outside.

It didn’t get any emptier on the way up to Masuleh. First, we passed a “toll booth” which luckily, we didn’t have to pay, then we came across many tour buses all parked below the village. But the locals kept waving us on, further up into the village. Here, colourful decorations were put up in every street…so many indeed that I started to wonder if there was a festival going on. In one of the turns to go further up, a local stopped us and asked which hotel we wanted to go to. Hearing that we didn’t have a room yet, he got all business-like and dragged Flo off to show rooms and negotiate prices. I was quite happy guarding the bike as I was super tired by this point but people kept coming up to take pictures with me or have a chat. Just when Flo came back, I was standing in front of the bike with a baby on one arm and a little kid standing next to me. Unfortunately, WE don’t have the picture.

Got settled in just as the sun had set

Got settled in just as the sun had set

Flo found a beautiful room with a balcony and a view of the village for 1 million rial. That is on the pricey side but by far not the most we have paid for rooms here. So I just said that we take it and we dumped all our things in it. It turned out that somehow we had rented the whole house as the owner gave us the key and told us to lock it when we go out and also at night.

It was just getting dark and also just started to rain so we put on our rain gear (first time for the hoods, yay!) to explore the village. It might be a village that lives off tourism and it might also be not authentic anymore but at night with all the lights on, it was a magical place. It felt a lot like wandering through a Christmas market. Everything looked pretty and inviting, bathed in light. After exploring multiple levels of the village, we sat down in a tea house to have a wonderful cup (or three) of hot tea with rock sugar. The perfect ending for a looooooooooooong day.

Day 289 – The company you keep

Two motorbikes leaving the hotel in the morning

Two motorbikes leaving the hotel in the morning

As it turned out, both Joris and we were ready to leave Tehran this morning. Both of us were annoyed by people trying to fleece us – which so far has pretty much only happened in Tehran to the level that does annoy. Finally, we both wanted to head north. What could speak against joining up for a wee while then?

Therefore, such we did. Joris had two more bits to sort on his way out. Going to the moneychanger, which happened to be on our agenda too, and checking back with the Turkmenistan Embassy about his visa. We tagged along, changed what we hope will be the last USD and agreed to meet up at the embassy once we had done our last bit of sightseeing. For me, the Azadi tower is an iconic image of Iran and I wanted to pay at least a brief visit.

Not as high as pictures make you think but still an iconic image of Tehran

Not as high as pictures make you think but still an iconic image of Tehran

Traffic was bad and got worse over time, but we would have made the 30 km trip in about an hour if I had not missed my exit on the motorway. The final 5 km detour took us another 30 to 40 minutes! Yet it turns out, that was still good progress. Trying to leave Tehran for Iran’s highest mountain Mt. Damavand, we got caught in a full on gridlock at one intersection. For once, the Iranian system of “just squeeze harder” collapsed on itself and we had front row seats at a 20 minute comedy show watching well-meaning guys trying to break the knot by convincing a single driver to maybe move back, say, 30 cm and let a car escape the knot. Instead, every hard fought gap was immediately filled by a new driver pushing into the madness and packing it ever tighter. Meanwhile. I imagine Iranians try to untangle a ball of yard in a similar way, by pulling at loose ends as hard as they might …

Finally! Onwards!

Finally! Onwards!

We eventually made it out and onto the highway. The urban sprawl got looser and we could get a bit of wind into our jackets. Lunch was pushed out when all of a sudden, Nina realised that she forgot something important. She should have called her mother for her birthday 15 minutes ago! So we stop in front of a bunch of little shops and try to get the call going. After some ten minutes of failed attempts, it became evident that we had just run out of data. I was able to top up the phone, but no one knew the codes for data packages so in the end we resigned and actually used the “phone” part of the phone to call. We may have placed less than ten traditional calls on the entire trip. 😉

Into Polour village for lunch but the mountain is already a beautiful backdrop

Into Polour village for lunch but the mountain is already a beautiful backdrop

With catastrophe averted, we decided to push on for the final 30 km to Mt. Damavand for lunch. The sight of this free standing giant is quite the thing to behold. Unlike a lot of peaks, this one is visible from pretty much everywhere in the area.

No sooner had we picked a lunch spot, when we were hit once again with a lovely surprise. Helga came out of the restaurant next door, swiftly followed by Uli. They had stopped right there for lunch themselves and after a moment of jolly surprise and much hugging, we decided to join them at their place. Joris was sold the moment he learned that they serve fish. After weeks of Kebab, it is about the little things.

Lunch with Joris, Uli, Helga and us two. Everyone is eating fish except for me :S

Lunch with Joris, Uli, Helga and us two. Everyone is eating fish except for me :S

We had met Helga and Uli back in Yazd, almost two weeks ago now. Over lunch we caught up with our respective progress, got Joris introduced and discussed plans from here on out. Uli recommended an alternative route along the valley, following the western edge up high rather than the main road in the valley below. This would also have plenty of camping spots. Given that Joris had dropped off his partner Noor at the airport in the middle of the night, he was keen for an early camp.

We said farewell after an expensive but excellent lunch, stocked up for dinner and breakfast and hit the mountain. The road was stunning, with constant views of the valley on one side and Mt. Damavand on the other. At one point, we passed the perfect camp spot. Unfortunately, after much deliberation and careful trying, we decided that there was no way we could safely get Rocinante and Joris’ Africa Twin over the steep ramp onto the plateau. What a shame …

Two bikes and a mountain

Two bikes and a mountain

Not much later though, we followed a dirt road leading to a bunch of quarries. The rugged ground further up – volcanic ash and rock – did not provide any good spot to put our tents, but the uppermost quarry was nice and flat and looked pretty abandoned. A little while later, we were pretty glad about the decision. Storm clouds were drifting in and strong gusts of wind carried big clouds of volcanic ash with them. There was at least a bit of cover down in the pit.

We had dinner in the serene silence of the slopes of Mt. Damavand. When it looked like the rains would set in for the night, we packed everything up and had an early night. Once again, the distant howls of wolves were our lullaby.