Tag Archives: wolves howling

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.