December « 2009 « clipped in and pedal driven

…………Two months later

December 22, 2009

It is 3 days before Christmas and I now sit in Delhi India trying to recall exactly what has happened over the last 2 months. As you have guessed I have fallen quite behind with the blog .This is as a direct result of being unable through state censorship, to update my blog whilst in Iran, so I will attempt now to continue where I left off in Ankara 2 months ago………………….

I was so happy to be leaving Ankara after a week of boredom though a little nervous as to what to expect in Iran. Especially since I knew so little of the place except the generally unfavourable picture painted by our government and media. It is always the fear of the unknown which I think has the greatest impact upon us all. I arrived at Ankara train station with plenty of time in hand in case of any difficulties with loading my bike on board. I was relieved at how simple a task this proved to be and afterwards I was shown to my compartment by the helpful guard. I introduced myself to the middle-aged man I was to share the compartment with. His name was Serjah and he was an Iranian sailor (second mate) who was returning home after visiting Turkey looking for work. After departing and chatting with Serjah for a little time he confided in me that he was actually a Christian and showed me some copies of the bible that he had in the Persian language. He went on to explain how difficult it is for Christians in Iran, especially those that had converted from Islam as he had. As the journey progressed Serjah kept disappearing for the odd hour with his bibles and coming back empty-handed. Then he would invite people into our carriage and have bible readings with them in Persian, at police and customs check points I noticed that he kept hiding his bibles under the upholstery of the train seats. Suddenly I realised that I was sharing a carriage with an evangelising bible smuggler bent on converting as many people on the train as he could. Having said that, I will say that he was one of the most gracious and caring persons I have ever met and was a real joy to travel with. We had some great discussions and he really took it upon himself to look after me on the journey, he shared all of his food with me and stayed close by to help translate both on and off the train, right up until I left the station in Tehran; even ensuring that I rang him once I was safe and sound in a hotel; a real gentlle-man. What else of the journey? Well it actually lasted 72 hours, twice as long as I had originally been told. and also contrary to my information no food was supplied , so I am eternally grateful to Serjah who was well stocked with hard boiled eggs , fresh vegetables and Iranian flat breads which he shared without a seconds thought. During the journey we had to get off the train and onto a ferry to take us across a Vast lake in Eastern Turkey (Van) this was to be a 5 hour crossing. After arriving at the other side at 3 o’clock in the morning ,we had to walk down a railway line in the dark with our luggage to meet the waiting Iranian train . It was like something out of a holocaust movie a line of people stummbling along the tracks in the dark, hauling all manner of belongings. Serjah and myself kept going back to help the elderly women and children with their belongings, when we finally reached the Iranian train and boarded it, we found all the carriages absolutely full with steam, it was totally incredible and I still have no idea as to how or why it was so.

We arrived in Tehran at around 7 am and I felt about ready to drop as the train journey was absolutely exhausting, the last thing I really wanted to do was to deal with the Capitals traffic and hunt around for a decent and cheap hotel, but it had to be done. I said my farewells to Serjah and all my other friends from the train and headed into the smog of downtown Tehran. Riding in the traffic in Tehran is absolutely exhilarating , you ride with it not through it, It is like a vast and powerful wave that just pulls you along with it, there is no room what- so- ever to manoeuver as everything is bumper to bumper , I found myself going straight past exits that I wanted, as I just had no choice but to do so and like a torrid river I had to get onto its banks and walk my way back to its gentler tributaries. I actually really enjoyed being part of this animal and can attest to the skill of the Iranian drivers, who apparently, at the thought of complicated legal paperwork will avoid hitting you at all costs. Crossing the road as a pedestrian though is not quite so enjoyable and took me many days to get used to, the key to which I realised was after finding an opening in the traffic to look straight ahead and cross, do not deviate off your course or make any sudden unpredictable movements and the traffic will with great skill avoid you.

I booked into the first hotel I could find and though not so cheap was pleased to find I had my own small kitchen and a comfortable double bed on which I slept on and off for the next 2 days . Feeling fully recovered I eventually ventured out onto the streets of Irans capital. Ones first attention is drawn to the dress of the women. all wear some form of the Burka or headscarf and many of the older generation wear the full Zorro outfit as Serjah called it. the second thing that you notice is that you cannot walk a couple of hundred yards without passing someone with a white surgical dressing clinging to their nose. On further enquiry it seems that the whole of the young female and increasingly the male population is obsessed with the notion of having plastic surgery conducted upon their nose. Apparently you’re not anyone in Tehran unless you have had a nose job done and it is now fashionable to just wear the surgical dressing to imply that you have had the surgery. I joked with the hotel receptionist about this and said that in the UK its boob jobs that are popular, to which she replied that in Iran they’re not popular as women must keep their figure disguised by wearing a loose fitting chador, and why spend so much money on something that only your husband can see.I laughed, I guess she was right as the only part of a woman in Iran that can be shown to others by law is her face.

On return to my hotel room, I find a note from reception saying there is another couple of cyclists in the hotel who want to meet me, excellent! some company. I ring their room and invite them up . Tobias and Vera are a young couple from Vienna , Austria who started cycling from Vienna about the same time Jayne and myself had arrived there, in fact it seems that we followed virtually the same route at around the same time and it is a wonder that we never bumped into them earlier, . It was so nice to talk with them, and as we were setting off on the same day and following the same route through Iran, they kindly asked if I would like to travel with them. This was great news to my ears and I didn’t hesitate to take them up on the offer. It was a good decision as we became great friends and were really compatible as cyclists, it was nice to sit back for a change and let Tobias do the navigating and I think they were quite grateful for my mechanical skills and knowledge at times so all in all it worked really well.

Our first destination was to Qom, known to be one of the most religiously conservative places in Iran and a place of pilgrimage for Muslims from all over the world. It is here where the shrine of Fatima (The Prophet Mohammed’s daughter) is located and where many Islamic scholars are based. It was to be a long days ride of about 140 km along a major highway . the day went well and our first experiences with the main roads in Iran was good, in fact I would go so far as to say the roads in Iran were the best I have experienced to date. All have good well maintained surfaces and most have a good hard shoulder which are a godsend to cyclists. throughout this first days ride in Iran I was to experience many instances of the famous Persian hospitality which was to characterise my time in Iran, people stopping to give us fruit and drinks, invites to come to dinner or to stay at someones home, I was even given a tin of deodorant by one young lady who stopped her car to talk with me.

It was pretty dark as we entered Qom and as luck would have it a tout took us to an apartment which would house the 3 of us at a reasonable cost (£5 each) , so we decided to stay for a couple of nights and spend the next day exploring Qom . The city is dominated by the huge Mosque and shrine dedicated to Fatima and we had read in the lonely planets guide that with persistance we might be allowed inside. this proved correct or at least the persistance part did. the security people at the gate would not entertain the notion of us entering the shrine and it was only through the help of an iranian film maker who, was making a documentary there ,that we were able to negotiate an audience with some religious leaders who would decide if we might enter or not. We were taken to a very austere chamber within the Mosque where we sat barefooted in audience with the turban wearing leaders . For the next 45 minutes we were treated to a very cordial and interesting lecture and I stress lecture upon the political situation between Iran and the west and how it is a result of U.S foreign policy, about the relationship between Islam and Christianity and how Iran does not support terrorism. As a curious end note to the lecture and I guess because Vera was there, the religious leader started painting Iran as a country of liberation for women saying that in Iran women were free and even allowed to drive cars and even pilot aeroplanes……having said that he still would not shake Veras hand at the end of the meeting or address any questions to her.

At the end of the lecture we were allowed to wander around the impressive grounds of the great mosque escorted by the kind film director and peep into the building which housed the shrine. The devout were engaged in tearful reverie and bowing at the shrine. we decided to leave as we saw a group of wailing mourners bringing in a cloth wrapped corpse. Not the best thing to bring on an appetite but on leaving I was ravenous and managed to find a stall selling falafel sandwiches. these were to become my staple diet in Iran as the only available non meat fast food , these seemed to be readily available in even the smallest of villages and were a delight, freshly made falafel on a bed of salad and doused in pickled gherkins and yoghurt and housed in a soft sub bun delicious!!! and averaging at only around 40p each, cant be bad. There is however a problem with eating such food noticeably that they are only sold in dubious looking roadside stalls or cafes, where its best not to enquire too deeply into hygiene practices. Needless to say I awoke the next morning in Qom with a bad case of the Katmandu quickstep. Believe me sitting on a saddle on a bumpy road is no fun in such a state , and due to a lack of cover in the quite barren landscape, my only opportunity for relief was to dive into one of many culverts that ran under the road every Km or so. Still I struggled on past the now famous nuclear installation outside Qom being reminded by armed police not to even think of taking any photos. Went past miles and miles of anti-aircraft gun emplacements where everyone seemed to be on high alert and waiting for an Israeli airstrike. By now things were becoming less bearable stomach wise and to make it worse the skies darkened and it started to rain, then we were faced with a some steep climbs up into the mountains where we could see snow. I was so relieved both figuratively and literally when we arrived in a cheap hotel at a small town in the mountains. I spent the remainder of the night making regular visits to the toilet and dousing myself up on dioralyte to replace all of the minerals and fluids that I was losing fast down the pan. Not a good night and physically exhausting though I was glad that the hotel had western style toilets, it was pure luck as 90% of hotels had the crouch and crap / hole and two footprint style toilets .

I awoke in the morning looking and feeling absolutely exhausted, somehow I managed to rouse myself and gingerly place my full weight on the saddle , my stomach was making some very strange sounds though I felt like I had gone through the worst of the bout. Outside at this high altitude it was very cold and a strong headwind did not make the going any easier through the rolling hills. eventually after a few unwelcome visits to culverts; which left me feeling weak , I decided I would have to give up. After discussion with my companions we decided that we would have to flag down a truck and try and get a lift to the city of Esfahan where we had decided to stay for a few days. This was an easy matter due to the absolute kindness of the Iranian people, never have I been to a country where help is offered so readily to ones fellow human being in need. We loaded ourselves and our bikes into the back of a Toyota truck and after 45 minutes frozen to the bone in the back we arrive a little way outside of Esfahan the city described by many as one of the most beautiful cities on earth.

It is true that Esfahan has some truly wonderful architecture amongst its many royal palaces and famous mosques, however as with many of Irans major cities it was a little too manic for my liking, being heavily congested with both traffic and pollution. After a couple of days we decided to move on and strike out for the dessert regions to the East. The cycling proved pretty easy over the next week or so, it was pretty flat and the weather was warm , the scenery became totally arid, so much so that I dont think we saw a tree for some 200km. We found cheap and cheerful accommodation easily along the way even spending the night with a family in a small dessert village, this was a wonderful experience as we had the chance to experience Iranian village life and food. Our hosts were wonderful though spoke little english, the old man of the house took a shine to me and insisted that I sit on the floor next to him for dinner. he spoke little english but was able to quote brand names at me , so I spent the remainder of the evening being shown his watch “Casio” and his phone “Nokia” which became a little frustrating after the first hour, Things took a turn for the better when i pulled out a Farsi phrase book and tried some phrases on him, He particularly liked it when I found the section on employment and we went round the room identifying in farsi what each of our jobs were. He kept pointing at his wife and saying some word over and over, which I managed to translate as “Unemployed” . She didn’t look too happy at this.

After eating a wonderful meal of spicy eggplant with unleven bread and loads of fresh yoghurt, I said goodnight to everyone, I guess there was a good 10 of us sat around the floor for the meal. My room was a cosy white washed room off of a small courtyard, I shared it with a hand loom where a hand woven carpet, which would take a year to complete was well under way. and a small gas fire wich took the chill of the cool dessert night. My bed was the typical Iranian padded bedroll, which was rolled out along with a blanket and pillow and I slept like a baby. Word of warning for those wishing to visit Iran all beds are hard and it is very seldom that a mattress is used in any hotel, the most usual set up is a plywood mattress with a padded bedroll on top; which is surprisingly comfortable once you get used to it and did wonders for my back.

Our final destination in the desert was to be Yazd. One of the oldest cities in the world and which proved to be my favourite city in Iran. I found this city so layed back and peaceful and surrounded by the most spectacular dessert landscape. much of the city still consists of a maze of narrow sand coloured alleyways where behind old carved wooden doors spectacular courtyards lay hidden, it reminded me so much of the Kasbah in Marrakech but nowhere near as busy, and twice as hot in the summer, I can only imagine at what it must be like in the usual 50 degree heat of summer when no one ventures out and the days are spent in shaded courtyards lazing under giant wind catchers, that catch the slightest breath of air and channels it down over cooling pools of water and fragrant jasmine bushes. On the outskirts of Yazd we climbed the silent towers, perched high on rocky hills , here in ancient times the dead were left to be eaten by vultures so as not to pollute the earth. I could have sat up on those rocky peaks for days, surveying the city and dessert beyond it encircled by great snow-capped mountain ranges, it really was magical, the silence and cooling breeze, a real feeling of contentment. In the end we stayed in Yazd for 4 days visiting surrounding dessert villages and chilling out to the beautiful sunsets, it really is a special place and for some reason it seemed to draw other cyclist as well, for we managed to find 9 other cycle tourist in the city at the same time as us, there were couples from Switzerland, Belgium, The Basque region and Australia, it was so strange to see so many in the one place after months of just seeing the odd one or two, before leaving we all said we would keep in touch and I believe that I will meet up with some of them again in India.

We left as a group of 5 from Yazd with the Basque couple Urdin and Izarro joining us. It was nice to be in such a big group and we even felt brave enough in such numbers to camp at night, which although cold was a a joy. The night sky is so beautiful in the dessert, with the milky way being seen so clearly and all manner of stars and planets visible to the naked eye. The next day Urdin and Izzaro said their goodbyes and headed off on their intended route into the mountains, whilst we headed towards Shiraz . The going became a little more difficult now as we were heading out of the desert and climbing in altitude , which in turn meant colder nights, thoughts of camping were also diminished further when we found a dead animal on the side of the road which was definitely not a dog but had stripes, a serious set of teeth and was definitely wild-looking. It transpired that this was actually a Hyena which we were warned by locals as to being very, very dangerous. Luckily that night after finding ourselves in the middle of nowhere with the light quickly fading we happened upon a gravel pit, where a small works plant was busy filling lorries with gravel for maintenance of the roads. As yet another example of Iranian hospitality the workers put us up for the night in one of their portacabins. As with all Iranian hospitality this did not just end at being given a bed for the night, The employees set up a gas fire for us and gave us bed rolls and blankets. they made a meal for us that night and breakfast in the morning ,they also kept making us trays with tea and coffee on, and insisted that we make use of their showering and washing facilities. what wonderful people the Iranians are and all done with a real genuine sense of kinship.

The very next night we found ourselves caught out again, in between two towns with the light fast fading. this time the keeper of a mosque in a small village came to our rescue putting us up for the night in the prayer room, once again insisting that we make full use of the facilities and ensuring that everything was done to make our stay a comfortable one.

We eventually arrived in Shiraz after some pretty heavyweight hill climbs that sapped our energy and were glad of a few days rest. It was here that I was to say goodbye to Vera and Toby as they were heading back by bus to Tehran to catch a flight on to Bangkok . So we spent our final 3 days together splashing out on an upmarket hotel and visiting the many sights of Shiraz. Shiraz was an enjoyable city with a fabulous bazar and some beautiful old buildings, It seemed a pretty laid back place and certainly less conservative than many places in Iran. As with most places in Iran the people loved to meet foreigners and spend time talking with them and I lost count at the number of times people just wanted to engage with me and practice their English. They also all seemed to feel the need to apologise for their government to me and strangely, of the hundreds of people that spoke to me whilst I was in Iran, not one was complimentary towards their government and were unanimously of the opinion that at the very least their current president should be replaced if not the whole of the religious leadership governing the country. I tried not to have too many political debates with people in Iran as I felt it unwise to comment on a situation I knew so little about. But I got the sense that although people were openly hostile towards their government and the harsh laws of their islamic masters, They just didn’t take it seriously, they reminded me of naughty public schoolchildren bucking strict outdated laws at any chance by listening to music, dancing , drinking, showing a little more flesh than is allowed (all highly illegal practices). The sad thing for me was, that although they were content with the status quo as long as they could buck the rules and show decent, they had really little insight into the harsh punishments being dealt out by the regime for such misdemeanors. In fact many people were quite shocked when I informed them that some of the protestors in the recent demonstrations in Tehran had been given the death penalty.

I left Shiraz cycling on my own once again. I was to head for the gulf coast at Busehir a journey across a mountain range before following the isolated coastal road through small dessert villages and along the length of the persian gulf to bandir Lengeh, where a boat would take me across the gulf to Dubai. The first part of my journey took me across some of the most isolated and beautiful landscapes I have ever seen , the mountains were stunning in their craggy barrenness and were awash with differing shades of greys, pinks and reds. The climb through them was both exhausting and exhilarating my only regret is that I had no-one to share the wonderful experience with once out of this vast barren range I descended onto a low plain where great plantations of date palms started to appear and the climate become visibly warmer. As I cycled through the first large town I had seen for the day I decided to take up the offer of a bed for the night as I knew that hotels were going to be scarce on the ground. Mohammad rode next to me on his moped as I entered the town and I accepted his offer of a cup of tea at his house; which later turned into an instance that I stay the night. Mohammad was a world renowned caroonist and teacher and was glad to have someone to speak to and improve his English with. So we talked and ate dates harvested from his palm trees until the early hours of the morning, when he escorted me out of town by motorbike. I realised that accommodation was going to be a problem from now on, as I was certainly on the road less travelled. So I resolved to try and camp as much as I could . This was not an easy decision as I was fully aware now, that there were dangers presented by the wildlife in Iran, but the other alternative was to simply wait for the offer of accommodation from the hospitable Iranians, which was almost always a certainty. However, and this may seem a little conceited of me , It is very difficult after a hard day in the saddle to enter some strangers house and be the centre of attention, to have all manner of relatives be invited round to meet you and to be expected to engage in the same line of conversation with each and every one of them, when all you really wish to do is curl up in your sleeping bag and sleep. to that end I thought I would risk the wild animals. So for the next week or so I headed along the coast road through intermittent dessert and scrub land past small villages and along the inviting blue shimmering sea , camping on the way without any major problems. just the odd wandering donkey or camel strolling into my guy ropes. the biggest problem I did have, was on a day when I noticed a dark bank of clouds following behind me threatening to ruin the clear blue sky in front. It was on this day that I was invited to stop and have lunch with a bunch of farmers tending an irrigated field of Tomatoes. All was going well, and the fresh vegetables and bread we shared were delicious, however after the meal the men started to pass around the opium pipe and get pretty wasted, so I decided to leave, though I had intended camping with them. So with this idea shelved and the night drawing in I headed off pretty quickly along the road to find somewhere out of the way to pitch the tent . The place I found and settled on was not Ideal, being close to some houses , but it was quite a way off the road and had a large sand dune protecting one side of the tent from view. I set up quickly made myself a coffee then as the light proceeded to go at about 8pm, I slid weerily into my bag. Half in a daze about an hour later I heard the rapid padding footsteps and panting of an animal as it came hurtling over the sand dune to my right. The animal was obviously startled at the sight of my tent and started growling and whining. My immediate reaction was to grab the lump of wood that I keep close to me, switch on my headtorch and fling myself out of the tent and into the affray. What faced me in the torch light, could have been a dog ,but the hunched back and hairs standing on end around its neck still lead me to believe it was a hyena. The animal stood motionless growling. Noticing a rock at my feet, I quickly picked it up and hurled it. the rock bounced a foot in front of the animal and kicked up hitting it around the shoulder at which, yelping it turned and fled into the night. Unbelievably at that moment the whole sky was filled with a flash of lightning and the impending storm that had been following me all day hit with a vengeance. There is nothing quite like being in a tent during a massive storm and all thoughts of the animal I had encountered earlier vanished. the lightning seemed to be falling all around and the sounds that followed shook the ground under me. The wind and rain came close behind battering my tent and I was glad that I had taken the time to secure the guy ropes properly, which earlier I had been um-ing and ah-ing about. I guess an hour or so later the storm finally subsided and I was able to think about sleep once more , though dogs seemed to be barking nearby and with each passing minute the barking seemed to get nearer. Eventually with thoughts of my encounter earlier I trudged out again onto the now slurry like sand. The barking was coming from directly behind the tent about 50 yards away, I peered into the still darkness and as I bent down to pick up my torch for further investigation a stone came hurtling past me and then another , I immediately shouted out “Salaam” (hello) and switched on my torch to find the figure of a woman stood their with a dog straining at the leash, I dont know who was the most scared her or me but I again said “Salaam” to which she muttered something and promptly turned and walked away. This night was not going well and it was obvious that I was not going to get much sleep. As I lay eyes wide open watching the inner of my tent lighten with daybreak, I resolved that I would have to be much more careful when considering the options for camping in future. I wearily stepped out bare footed onto the ground outside the tent and gathered up my panniers from just inside , as I did so I saw something move in the corner of the tent. as I peered closer it began to dawn on me that there about a foot from where I had stood barefoot was a scorpion of a translucent white colour about 4 inches long with its tail stretched out flat . With the possibility of there being more, I quickly put on my shoes shaking them first of course and very carefully packed up my tent, as I lifted the groundsheet I saw another scorpion scuttle away under a stone, and I am sure that there were probably more there, sheltering from the storm of the night before. These scorpions in Iran are some of the most poisonous in the world and regularly result in the death of local children. That was the last night I camped in Iran.

I was nearing my final destination in Iran but had to pass through the town of Assaluyeh, which is quite simply an oil refinery and the biggest one in the Gulf at that. the place was unbelievable as I rode for mile after mile past pipework and storage tanks, great fire belching towers seemed to rise into the sky from every available piece of land and the air hang heavy with the smell of burnt gas, all road traffic seemed to consist entirely of minibuses carrying white boiler suited men to work. after cycling for an hour through this I frustratingly flagged down a minibus and asked them if there were a hotel anywhere nearby. The guys inside said there was, but it was just really for workers and they weren’t even sure if they would allow me to stay. I thanked the guys and they drove off only to catch up with me a few minutes later and insist that I come stay with them, since one of their colleagues was on holiday and they had a spare bed. not knowing what I was letting myself in for I warily agreed and followed their minibus through the vast refinery complex.

We arrived at a two storey block of apartments in a compound. I was amazed as I was greeted at the door by about 30 men all of whom were living in this apartment 6 to a room, some in a bunk beds, all working for the same company travelling on the same minibus to work everyday and having the company deliver their same meals to the apartment 3 times a day. It was for me just like being back in the army and I immediately warmed to the situation . And what a great bunch of guys they were, they were of all different ages and that familiar camaraderie that you get when a bunch of guys are thrown together in adverse conditions was really evident, they treated me as part of the crew. We went out on the town together, they helped me service my bike, we all ate and joked around together and it was just such a pleasant time for me. I guess a little bit of me wishes I had stayed in the army and I was glad to be given that taster of camaraderie again. I ended up staying with them for 3 days and having a great time.

I was now very near to Bandir Lengeh. Being well within schedule for my visa, which I had managed to extend in Shiraz. I decided to take the short hop over to Kish Island, A place that many Iranians said I really should visit. To be quite honest ,I wish I had’t bothered, On paper it sounds lovely a small dessert Island nestling in the warm persian gulf, where the strict laws of Iran have been relaxed for the benefit of attracting tourists. The reality is that it is a rather flat and nondescript stretch of land which is being highly overdeveloped ata fast rate, is highly overpriced for any accommodation, it is also the only place in Iran where there are ulterior motives to the local populations kindness, notably the pursuit of money. A taxi driver tried to charge me $10 for allowing me to follow him on my bike for less than 1km to a nearby hotel. This is in a country where I can feed myself for a week on $10, the Taxi driver was loitering outside a hotel and I casually asked him where the cheaper hotels are , he insisted on showing me by driving in front when pointing would have sufficed , this was done in the guise of being helpful, so when he caused a scene and demanded $10 from me later on, getting other locals involved, I wouldn’t budge and I really let him have it verbally. I left Kish after 2 nights and headed straight for my boat at Bandir Lengeh which, I true to form missed and had to wait 3 days for the next one. I however managed to secure a lovely hotel room right on the deserted beach, with a fine panoramic view over the Persian Gulf. during these 3 peaceful days I was able to really reflect on my time in Iran. It was a truly wonderful experience , I have never felt safer in a country than I did in Iran, I saw no crime or real poverty, there was nothing but kindness, warmth and hospitality shown towards me. As a people the Iranians are a highly cultured and educated people with great capacity for generosity which appears entirely without nurture, I am so glad that I was able to visit, as a destination for cyclists it offers great variety of scenery, some fabulous ruins from ancient civilisations and absolutely marvelous roads to cycle on , as a country of gastronomical delight for us vegetarians…….. I think not. Cant wait for my first veggie curry in Dubai.