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Turkey & Caucasia

Heaven and hell in Iran

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4.01.2004 from Tehran, Iran - 7293km

Salaam!

Leaving Baku was not easy. Rashad was a perfect host and we spent many hours together walking around the city. Bahar, a work colleague of Rashad, joined us. We had a lot of fun together! Rashad was an excellent tourist guide and showed me the historic Inner City, the sea promenade and the memorial site for the victims of the upraise against the Soviet rule in 1990 and the war with Armenia. Of course, we took also a ride in the partly nostalgic subway. The escalator was probably the fastest I have ever seen. I lost almost my balance when the ride down began. I got many gifts from Rashad and Bahar and the saying goodbye was tough. Hopefully we will meet again, insh-Allah! The nomadic life began again.

Strong tailwind pushed me quickly towards the Iranian border. On one day, I was almost flying over the plains of Azerbaijan: average speed 35 km/h. Cycling with a fully loaded bicycle is like sailing. The bicycle and the baggage make up for a perfect sail... Of course, strong headwind brings your progress to a near standstill on the other hand. Azerbaijan showed again his second face: while Baku sees a lot of the petrol dollars, the countryside seems to have change very little over the past decades. The roads are very bumpy, the towns in decay. Many villages don't even have running water.

In Lenkeran, a town shortly before the Iranian border, a elder man invited to drink a tea. Quickly the local police chiefly joined us together with another rather rich person. Somehow my journey seemed to raise suspicion, the police chief wanted to have a look at my passport. Then he started writing down all the details on a small piece of paper. When I realised that he even noted down the name of my homecountry in all four official languages plus English, I could barely resist to laugh out loudly. The officer seemed to have no idea at all what he was doing. He also realised that Lenkeran was not specified in my visa... Furthermore, I had not yet registered with the municapility... But they soon stopped the hassle. I mean, I just cycled through the center to buy some bread and biscuits. I got the last pleasureful moment with Soviet style bureaucracy at the border. The border officials suddenly declared that my tourist visa would not be valid (and this on the exit!). But somehow they could not all agree with this, so I witnessed some quite heated discussion among the officers. At some moment, I thought I would have to intervene as the quarrel seemed to become physical Then everything was fine and I got my exit stamp. I would have been ready to sit in front of their office for the next 48h, I was really fed up with this kind of annoyances.

The entry to Iran was completely painless... 10 min and everything was fine. Also my baggage was not searched, I there would have been no reason to hide my traveller cheques in my underwear (I would not have been allowed to bring so much money without paying a fee)
So I had a good start in Iran. In addition to that the roads were wonderfully smooth. My bicycle rolled silently over the pavement. The route along the Caspian Sea was rather monotonous. There were buildings almost everywhere. I had really some trouble to find a place to put up my tent. On December 24 I arrived in Rasht, the biggest city in the region. I needed to change some money urgently, but unfortunately all banks were closed on the afternoon. I managed to find a cheap hotel where I could just pay for the night. I had some 1 USD in Rials left for the Christmas dinner: it was good On the next morning, I was able to change money. The procedures are wonderfully complicated. Four forms were filled with numbers, stamps and notes. Finally, I had to sign three times (!) on a blank page. No idea why this was necessary. I left the bank with two thick bundles of Rials after 30 min.

In the evening, I could not find a spot to put up my tent. But I always thought that it would get better further down the road. Then I got dark and I was quite tired. I found what I thought would be a deserted field road and I put my tent right next to it. There were just swampy rice fields everywhere else. Soon afterwards a couple of motorcyclists past my tent and also some cars... Then I should have better packed up again and have gone to a nearby farmhouse to ask whether I could camp in their garden. But the fatigue was stronger and I decided to stay... at around 10 in the evening, a man was calling me and wanted to where I would come from and whether I would be alone. Quite suspicious, but I was almost asleep and hoped that nothing would happen during the night. At midnight, there were suddenly three men between 20 and 30 and wanted me to come out of the tent and 'talk'. I was not really sure about their intentions but I definitely did not feel comfortable. Again and again they wanted to know how much money I would have with me. As always, I told them that I would not have any dollars and only little in the local currency. I soon realised that one of the three had a machete (kind of a long knife) under his vest and he started to take it out. Then they were quite explicit that they wanted money from me. I tried to continue with my story, that I could not give anything, but at some point it got really unpleasant I went into my tent to get the money. I decided to try my last chance and took only the bag with the small change. The three men eagerly looked at its content and became soon suspicious.

I answered quickly, that I would only get new money from Switzerland in Tehran and that this would be everything I had (I lied of course). Like a miracle, the three were convinced and took out a 5000 Rial note (about 50 US Cents) and quickly drove away with their motorcycles. Then I started shaking violently and my heartbeat was racing. Surprisingly, I remained very calm before and could think clearly. I immediately packed up everything and started cycling again. It was a very long night and I only stopped after 140 km. This way I had enough time to think again and again about the event. In Chalus I looked for a hotel to rest and sleep. A nightmare has become true for me... to get attacked in the middle of the night... I felt that I was quite lucky. Now I will be even more careful with wild camping!
Soon the route turned away from the coast towards the Alborz mountain range, separating the Caspian Sea from the Iranian desert plateau. From -28 m at the coast the road climbed over 120 km up to 2750 m. On the way I had a meeting with Kuh-e Damavand, the highest mountain of Iran. I was overwhelmed by its sight. From the bottom of the valley at 1600m I was looking straight up to the summit at 5601m. A wonderful mountain! I was incredibly tempted to climb up. But the conditions were quite discouraging: During the night it was -10 Celsius at 2000m already and the weather conditions were the most unstable of the year at that moment. I cycled to 2300m to get a closer look and on the way down again I found a fantastic natural balcony to put up my tent. The bottom of the valley was far below and I had fantastic view on the surrounding snow-capped mountains, including Damavand. The weather was perfect, a deep blue sky. I had this rare feeling of overwhelming freedom and happiness. The mountains combined with the icy and dry air were breathtaking... I could 'smell' Tibet.

For a couple of days I have been here in Tehran. The final part to cycle in the mega-city was not as bad as I thought. The Bulgarians, Instanbuli, etc. were a good preparation I spent the last days walking around and eating Iranian delicacies (sweets...). I also visited the extraordinary National Museum. A very nice museum warden explained many things. A lot of the artefacts from the pre-Islamic and Islamic period were breathtaking. It made quite clear, that ancient Persia was one of the cradles of civilisation. By the way, Persepolis (an ancient palace complex in Iran) was not burnt down by Alexander the Great, as the warden told me. She preferred to call him simply Alexander the Macedonian, as she could hardly see anything 'great' about his accomplishments... I also walked for two hours through the Grand Bazaar and I managed to get completely lost. Probably I still have seen only a tenth of the whole Bazaar.

Now the journey continues towards Esfahan. The Iranian deserts are waiting for me.

Khoda hafez!
Daniel

Turkey & Caucasia

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