Aventures Bicyclétales ...

country overview, map and followed itinerary, the journal with the best pictures,   [chap 5] the highlight, what I liked / didn't like, useful information.
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Country overview (as of December 2008)

• Capital city : Tehran.
• Area : ~ 1,648,000 km2 (= 2.4 x France).
• Population : 68 million inhabitants (= 1.1 x France).
• Density : 41 inhabitants / km2. 

• Language : Persian (Farsi).
• Religions : Islam at 99% (89% of Shi'ites and 11% for Sunnis).
• Human Development Index (HDI) : 0.736, the 99th country out of 177. What is HDI ?

• Government : Islamic Republic.
• Supreme leader : Ayatollah Ali Khamenei (since June 1989).
• President : Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (since June 2005).

• Growth rate in 2007 : 4.9%.
• Currency : Rial (IRR), 1 Euro = ~ 13,500 Rials.
• Main imports : machines, iron, steel, cereals, electric and electronic equipment.
• Main exports : oil, fruits, peanuts, carpets, garment and chemical products.

Iran map with the cycled itinerary (in green color) and the portion of road where I was forced to sit at the back of a police vehicle (in red color)



The travel journal in Iran with the best pictures :

• From the Pakistan border to Bam,
• Kerman and around,
• Yazd and around,
• Esfahan and around,
• Going north towards Turkey,

Wednesday the 7th of January : the border between Pakistan and Iran opens at 9.00 AM … so I show up at 9.00 AM. Paperwork on the Pakistani side is quick and straightforward. 9.15 AM, « Good bye Pakistan » as it is indicated on a small sign, and I move towards the Iranian gate … unfortunately still closed.

Well, well, well, Iranians are still asleep … and I am being told that the gate won’t open before 11.00 AM today, if it opens at all, because today is Ashoura, the anniversary of the martyrdom of Hussein (the third Imam, not Saddam !!). 11.30 AM, the gate opens, and the thirty persons or so who where waiting for the last couples of hours rush in. Welcome to the Islamic Republic of Iran (below).

As soon as I am in, my passport is confiscated. I hope this is to speed up the process but I do have a doubt. Nobody smiles and nobody speaks English. I wait, but nothing happens, and I am told to sit, but I don’t want to sit, I want to get back my passport and move on to Zahedan, it should not take so long. Why is it taking so long !? Showing some obvious signs of impatience, somebody finally tries to explain me what is going on … and I catch here and there a few keywords I really don’t like : « police, danger, police, police again, bodyguard, wait for one hour, danger, danger, police ». So here it is, they like me so much they won’t let me go … at least by myself, and  I  have  to  wait for the

police escort to arrive. 30 minutes later, the escort is here. It’s a policeman, alone, without weapon and without vehicle !! What an escort. He does not smile, obviously he is not too happy to be here. He shows me a pick-up, I have to rent it and get on it with my bicycle. I protest. No way, I explain I want to ride my bike, I must ride it, because a pick-up truck is a global warming machine, it pollutes, it smells bad and it is against my religion to sit in a motorized vehicle (invoking religion was really a desperate move) … but the policeman is not here to listen or to talk, negotiation is clearly not an option …

... and zouuh, at the back of the pick-up truck (right). I am really disappointed, and upset … but what for ? I did not really have a choice. The road linking the border to Zahedan goes along western Pakistan and gets very near (just a few kilometers) of southern Afghanistan. It is estimated that 85% of all Europe’s opiates come from this area … which means that drug smugglers are all over the place. The Iranian army has 30,000 men in the area, but there is no sign of improvement. In late 2003, three overland cyclists were unfortunate enough to get caught up in Iran’s long running war on drugs, being kidnapped by smugglers who were seeking some compensation after a shipment worth 5 million Euros was seized by the police.

I arrive in Zahedan an hour later. This was quick. The city is in the middle of the desert, the surroundings look very similar to Balochistan … but the city itself as nothing in common with the small dusty Baloch settlements. It looks more like Europe. Streets are maintained, there are sidewalks, parks, garbage bins (!!), traffic lights, French cars (lots of Peugeot 405, 206 and Citroën Xantia !!) … and traffic goes on the right.

Tonight Iranian families are out in the streets despite the cold (it’s about freezing point) and light up candles in memory of Hussein … as for me, I go back to the warmth of my hotel room and I adjust my clocks. Iran is 1h30 before Pakistan time, and the difference with France is now down to only 2h30 … I am really getting nearer.


Thursday the 8th of January : I have packed food for three days and 300 km of desert, with Bam as my ultimate objective. I finally start to ride in Iran, this is a relief … but I quickly realize that this won’t be so much fun, as the driving style of the Iranians is quite beyond comprehension. ON and OFF, full throttle or both feet on the brakes, they don't know -yet- the middle way.

I ride about 50 km around semi-arid mountains, it climbs gently, then it goes down, then it’s flat … and all of a sudden, the wind comes, real strong. It’s headwind of course, slightly on the side, and it’s quite challenging to keep the bicycle in line when trucks go by.



This isn’t easy but this is rideable, 10 km more, 20 km more … and then I ride pass a police checkpoint. All seems quiet, so I discreetly move on … but this was not discreet enough, I have just been spotted –and yelled at- by an officer. He obviously wants me to stop, but since he does not have a vehicle to catch me, I just pretend I don’t understand and say "Hi", keeping riding with a big, but polite, smile …

5 km later, a truck stops just in front of me on the roadside. It’s a policeman who comes out. He asks me to stop and this time it looks rather difficult to play the misunderstanding card, so I stop. He wants me to get at the back of the truck, again … and I protest, again, in vain …

Eventually I will spend all the rest of the day -all the way to Bam- moving my bicycle from one police vehicle to another (see below), each police squad driving only within the limits of its area, sometimes for only one ore two kilometers.



All in all, this has been a very unpleasant day … where I finally got convinced that the reckless driving of the police was by far a much greater threat to my life than the few drug lords hitch-hiking in the mountains ! Clearly a day to forget ... but now I am in Bam.


Friday the 9th and Saturday the 10th of January : Bam, a city which became known to the world when on the 26th of December 2003, an earthquake brought down most of its buildings. 40,000 people died and 50,000 were reported injured from a total of about 100,000 inhabitants … this means very few were spared. It was a tragedy.

5 years later, I was expecting to discover a city completely rebuilt, a symbol of what Iran can do at its best. Well, this is not quite what it is … yet, at least. Streets have not all been resurfaced, there is dust and mud everywhere, sewage system isn’t repaired, people still mostly leave in prefabricated buildings and shops still operate in containers (see the market below).



It seems many Bamis have used the aid money they received to rebuild their house to buy new cars instead … this could explain partly the actual situation.

Before the earthquake, Bam was known for its 2500 years old citadel. Arg-e-Bam was attracting visitors from all around the world … but today it is quite a sad sight, it’s all rubble and scaffoldings. You need to see what it looked like before to grasp its majesty. Repair works are on their way, but it will take long before completion, maybe another 10 or 20 years … maybe longer …



Below, Bamis are celebrating Ashoura in front of one of the mosque of the city … sombre parades of devout Shiite men in black shirts, some of whom whip themselves -gently- with chains (below on the right).




Islam, Sunnis and Shiites : when the prophet Mohammad died in AD 632, there was disagreement over his successor. The majority backed Abu Bakr, the prophet father’s in law and friend. He became Caliph. However, there were those who backed the claim of the prophet’s son-in-law and cousin, Ali Bin Abi Taleb, one of the first converts. However, Ali was passed over in the succession two more times and eventually became the fourth Caliph in 656, but he was assassinated shortly after. The Muslim community was by now divided into two factions, the Sunnis who followed the Caliphate and the Shiites, partisans of Ali. Hussein’s martyrdom at the battle of Karbala at the hands of the Caliph’s troops made the division permanent (this is what Ashoura is about). Shiism reached its greatest influence in Iran, and Iran is the only official Shiite state.


Sunday the 11th of January : I leave Bam this morning with the hope the police won’t catch up with me again. Following some advice, I shaved my beard (which made me look too much like a Muslim fanatic) and I packed my Shalwar Kemiz (which made me look too much like a Baloch drug smuggler). So here I am, nearly “normal”, to the exception of my hair which I decided to keep … for the winter.



The landscapes are not very exciting, it’s arid all around … Bam was just an oasis !! The road is still very narrow and the trucks give me a hard time, so does the wind and the gradient I have to climb. Quite a tough day, and with the night coming, I decide to change my plans and I stop earlier : between Bam (1,070 m) and Ney Bid (2,330 m), I have cycled 110 km, so this is not such a bad day after all.




Monday the 12th of January : the night was good, warm and comfortable ; I leave this morning for a small ride (35 km) to Rayen, this is the part I could not complete yesterday, and it still goes upwards !! It will never end.

Below in Rayen : some typical Southeastern Iranian houses, with their mud dome roof.



Below : the old citadel of Rayen : 1000 years old, at least, and all its 15 towers still standing !!



Inside the citadel : a bazaar, some houses for « common people » and the residence of the governor.



The citadel is located at the foot of the Mt Hezar ... partially covered in snow at this time of the year.




Tuesday the 13th of January : this morning, surprise … everything is white outside, it has snowed during the night.



The wind is gone, at last, and riding is more comfortable. Later during the day I finally get to what looks like the end of the climb (2,555 m) I started three days ago in Bam, and now it’s down all the way to Mahan.


Wednesday the 14th of January : it snowed again last night … and I get the feeling the temperatures are dropping everyday. It’s getting kind of really cold now.

Mahan is a nice and quiet small city, famous for its Aramgah-E Shah Ne’Matollah Vali … the mausoleum of a well-known Sufi dervish (below).




Thursday the 15th of January : it’s another short riding day today to Kerman (50 km). It’s still pretty cold but I am getting used to it. As long as the sun is out and shining, everything is fine.

Below : the eastern wall of the Tohid square in Kerman ...



… and a woman wearing the chador passing by !

A chador in Iran, is not a simple scarf as we understand it in Europe, it’s an all-encompassing, head-to-toe black “tent”. The only alternative to the chador, as authorized by law, is a scarf with a baggy trench coat and baggy trousers … baggy being here of the utmost importance. All females over the age of nine (!!) must respect those dressing rules.


Friday the 16th of January : it’s down to two degrees in my room when I wake up this morning … cold, cold, cold. Yesterday evening I managed to raise the temperature to 12 degrees with this funny petrol-heating system so popular here in Iran, it was then OK … but I switched it off before going to bed, afraid it would set the place on fire. The extremely poor insulation of the room worked against me, I bet all the warmth was gone within just a few hours, if not minutes.

Later the same day, I go for a walk in Kerman to find all shops closed. It’s Friday, but it looks like a Sunday in France. Strange. And then I remember that Iran week-end is actually on Thursday-Friday … nevertheless, I finally find some “action” near Bazar-e Vakil.



Below : the Imam mosque of Kerman.




The Paykan : I have mentioned earlier how popular were the French cars in Iran, but I have failed to highlight that the most popular car of all was the locally-made Paykan. More than two million units have been produced since the 60s. This technological anachronism burns about 15 liters of leaded petrol per 100 km, and fortunately its production was stopped a few years ago … at last.



On the right, the registration plate of the Paykan shows how numbers are written in Iran : 23 D 882 45. The last number being easily recognizable with its buttocks-like shape.


Saturday the 17th and Sunday the 18th of January : I leave Kerman and I find myself in the desert again … after more than two weeks of it, it starts to feel a little bit monotonous, not to say boring.



Tonight there is a TV in my room, this is actually the first time I watch Iranian TV. The news channel is called IRINN … and it’s all about GAZA !! The war Israel is conducting over there and the way it is conducting it (several schools have been bombed !!) is first grade material to alienate Muslim communities, no doubt about it !! The subtitles don’t play it down, of course … why would they ? "Zionists war crimes, Palestinian holocaust, US complicity, Arab leaders cowardice, Europe laisser-faire and UN inability" … there is a word for all parties.


Monday the 19th of January : more desert today … again … but today I get to see more than just sand and gravels, there are several caravanserais on the way, about every 30 km or so, as this is roughly what camels can walk within a day !

Below : the Anar caravanserai, partially demolished and with some graffitis on ...

 



Caravanserais are old fortified hostels. Built about 1 or 2,000 years ago along the Silk Road, their purpose was to accommodate merchants and their animals. The Silk Road was until 1500 the main trade route between Europe and Asia.

Below : the Zein-o-din caravanserai, beautifully restored ... hosting real camels ...



... and where I spent a night, in the middle of more Persian carpets than I had ever seen in my life !!



 
Tuesday the 20th of January : after another day of desert, normally the last, I arrive in Yazd, a middle-size Iranian city of 500,000 inhabitants and the first real city on my way since I am traveling in Iran.

There are some cities where you feel comfortable right away, and Yazd is one of them. I don’t know if it’s the mountains around, the blue sky, the clean air, the tree-lined streets or the mud-brick houses, but Yazd is a really relaxing and pleasant place to hang out for a while.


Wednesday the 21st and Thursday the 22nd of January : a couple of days are not too many to discover Yazd old city, a baked-brown maze of narrow lanes with high walls, arches, houses, mosques and bazaars …



Who's knocking at the door ? Many doors in Yazd old city have two knockers (see above), one long and thin, the other round and flat. These were designed to give different sounds so that whoever is in the house would be able to tell whether a man or woman was knocking and so decide who should open the door.

The old city is a very quiet place, and it’s mostly pedestrian since cars can’t really get in the too narrow streets.



Here is what the old city looks like for the roofs : mountains and desert in the background, bagdirs here and there above houses (see further below), domes and minarets … and all in all, quite an harmony of shapes and colors.



Bagdirs (below) were designed to catch even the lightest breeze and direct it to the rooms below. The currents that enter the house do so above a pool of cool water, thereby cooling the air … which makes those wind towers the obvious ancestors of the modern air-con, and maybe altogether its future, since it works without any additional energy.



Below : the Jameh mosque, its dome and its two 48 meters high minarets.



 

Below : the Amir Chakhmaq complex, an unusual building used for Ashura commemorations.



Tonight the sun sets over the city, and tomorrow snow is expected over most of the country.




Friday the 23rd of January : it snowed indeed last night !! Yazd is all white this morning ...



... but most of the snow melted during the day, so I decided to leave tomorrow towards Esfahan, where I expect to arrive in about four days (330 km).


Saturday the 24th of January : back on the road, the ride goes pretty well until I decide not to stop in Ardekan. Somehow, I feel the need to go further ... where there is nothing and nowhere to stay. Don't ask me why, I still don't know. So of course I have to look for a camping spot for the night, and this is when things start to get more complicated. While riding off road, I stick myself in the worst kind of mud you could think of, freshly unfrozen, glue-alike, my mud-guards get filled with this s**t in just a few meters, bringing me immediately to a stand still. The bicycle is not going any further. He's not going back either, he just can't be moved at all. I have no choice but to unload all my luggage and then carry it back onto a sealed road where I can start to take the mud out with my hands. Of course this is a little messy. Finally when I find a proper spot, though not that great, it's quite late already, so I rush assembling the tent, certainly too eagerly, I make a hole in the roof and tear apart the foot cover ... great ... and I finally find myself cooking dinner with the light of my head-lamp, by two little degrees, with my tent broken and my bicycle full of mud. Quite an unfortunate chain of events ...

There are some days, you wish you would have never got up !


Sunday the 25th of January : the fun continues ... the tent is frozen this morning, so it takes me a while to clean it up and pack it. Same for the bicycle, for which I spend more than an hour to get rid of all the mud. When I arrive in Na'in, 100 km further, it's already dark and I am informed that the mosque where I was intending to spend the night does not host non-Muslims since last year ... really, when you are not in luck anymore, things go wrong all the way ...


Monday the 26th of January : I finally found a guesthouse yesterday evening, and I spent there a very good night. I also met Mahmoud, an Iranian student whose passion is to meet with the foreign cyclists stopping by in his town. He proposed to show me around, so today I am making an unexpected stop in Na’in.

Below : the gate of a primary school in Na'in … where surprisingly, the building behind the blue duck looks more like a church than a mosque.



Below : Imamzadeh Sultan Said Ali ... where foreigners are not welcome to stay anymore.



Below : Na'in Jameh mosque, whose specificity lies in the decorations made only by playing with bricks alignments. 



Below : some old Bagdirs and the very old fortress of the city in ruins …




Tuesday the 27th of January : I leave this morning from Na’in, and I am going to Tudeshg where some friends of Mahmoud have proposed to host me for the night. It’s a small leg (50 km), but I soon realize it won’t be that easy, because between Na’in (1,600 m) and Tudeshg (2,100 m), there is a pass culminating at 2,440 m … and this, Mahmoud forgot to tell me !!

The slope, steady, is about 4 to 6%. Trucks do struggle to climb it, and several signs remind that tire-chains are mandatory when there is snow or ice on the road.



I arrive in Tudeshg around 4.00 PM, I don’t have time to inquire for directions that I meet with Mohammed and Mustafa. They were waiting for me on the side of the road to show me the way to Reza’s home.

It’s a traditional house, located in the heart of the old city, and as the so many pictures I am being showed suggest, it is a place where many overland travelers have stopped for a night or two.


Wednesday the 28th of January : this morning I take my breakfast with Reza and his family (his wife Fatima, his son Nima (6) and his daughter Nasseem (8)).

Around 8.00 AM, as the kids leave for school, I leave myself for Esfahan … and I stop on the way in this abandoned fortified farm I spotted from far at the foot of some mountains …



... and which displays some great graffiti.



The traffic, much quieter since Na’in, and since I do not ride anymore on the main road linking Tehran to the southern provinces, becomes more heavy as I get closer to Esfahan. There are several ugly and smelly industrial compounds, and trucks (below) are far too many. I never used my mirror so often …



When I arrive in Esfahan, trucks quickly disappear and cars suddenly crowd the streets (above). The driving here is as reckless as one can possibly imagine : no blinkers, no check in the mirrors, everybody cutting the way of everybody … and more worrying, a persistent feeling of being the target to hit. Even women do drive completely crazy, capable of looking at you straight in the eyes while coming full speed in your direction, and hitting the brakes at the last moment, with tires screeching and the whole car sliding to the side !! City traffic is insane ...


Thursday the 29th of January - Monday the 2nd of February : Esfahan is considered as the jewel of ancient Persia and as one of the finest cities in the Islamic world. Its mosques, palaces, bazaar, bridges and gardens all date back to the beginning of the 17th century when Shah Abbas I decided to establish his capital city here.

Below, the eastern iwan of the Shah mosque ... or as it was renamed after the Islamic Revolution : the Imam mosque.



Below, the dome at the back of the Shah mosque.



The Shah mosque is located at the southern end of Naqsh-e Jahan Square, now renamed ... Imam Square of course. This immense space is the second-largest square on earth, only Tiananmen Square in Beijing is bigger.

To the northern end of the square (below picture on the very left), this is the entrance of the Bazar-e Bozorgh, on the western end, there is the Ali Qapu palace (under renovation) and on the east side (below picture on the right), this is the Sheikh Lotfollah mosque.



Below, the square at sunset from the Qeysarieh teahouse, a great place to rest at the end of the day and chat with the locals while smoking an apple qalyan (chicha) ...




I spent the second half of the afternoon with a young couple of Iranians I met at the Shah mosque, and I won’t reveal their names to make sure they don’t get any trouble with what I wrote further below …

They have being married for a few years but don't have children yet, She is affable, obviously liberal, She dyes her hair in blond (somehow not too usual) and her scarf is always on the verge of falling. He is much more quiet, does not speak too well English, but is clearly a very friendly person. They invite me to the teahouse (where we had to negotiate for Her a special permission to sit with us in the men quarter), They take me on a tour of the city bridges by night (below the Khaju bridge) and They insist to have me for dinner tonight !



The dinner is a treat, made all more enjoyable with some really good homemade red wine He discreetly makes in their summer house (alcohol consumption, and of course its production are strictly forbidden in Iran). As the evening goes, we discuss about life in Iran today, a good opportunity to learn more about what is going on in the Iranian society :
.
She => did not accept being held for 10 hours in a police station for a fallen scarf …
He => misses already Bush, his only hope to get outsiders' help in order to topple the Mullahs regime.
She => does not like the actual president Ahmadinejad.
He => is glad to have been able to organize a wedding ceremony with men and women together.
She => adds that a few months later, the agency who organized their wedding was shut by the Islamic police.
He => plays tennis on a court and football in his living room on a PlayStation.
She => regrets her "lost youth" because of the too many restrictions from the Mullahs.
He => agrees.
She => dreams of going to discotheque at least once.
He => does not agree.
She => does not teach in public university anymore because she does not stand having to wear the chador, being forbidden to wear make up and being obliged to pray.
He => prays everyday, three times a day ...

Both of them, Her and Him, have been up to the reputation of great hospitality of Iranian people ... and I couldn't even leave without accepting a kilogram of dates, some fruits and food for several days ... hospitality in Iran is a true art.


I continue the visit of Esfahan –under the rain- with the Chehel Sotun palace and its magnificent frescoes. Quite surprised, I notice that wine was part of the menu in those times, around the 17th century (below on the left) and yet more surprising, a fresco showing a man kissing the foot of a half naked dancing girl survived the 1979 Islamic revolution (below on the right).




The Islamic Revolution : to understand its origin, it is important to put back the Iranian context of the 50’s into perspective. Mohammad Mossadegh was then the elected prime minister of the country, and one of his decisions was to nationalize the Anglo-Iranian Oil Company which was taking oil out of Iran at nearly no cost, while generating important profits abroad for the British. This particular decision proved to have tremendous repercussions all along the second half of the 20th century, and even beyond. Indeed, Churchill, then UK prime minister, did not accept seeing such a profitable company being nationalized, so he tried to persuade the USA to intervene, which they did, by organizing a coup d’état in 1953. The Anglo-Iranian Oil Company was then denationalized (with USA now holding 40% of the shares) and the Shah was given back control of the country under the close supervision of the Americans. However, his program, too quickly too liberal proved to be a mistake ; it encouraged the emergence of Islamic fundamentalists among who Khomeini was by far the most popular. When in 1979 the Shah was finally forced in exile by massive street demonstrations, it is naturally Khomeini, the leading Shiite cleric, who was acknowledged as the new leader. His vision for a new Iran was a country free of foreign influence and true to Islam. From now on, it is I who will name the government he then proclaimed. The 1st of April 1979, the Islamic Republic was created and Khomeini became its supreme leader (picture below on the left) …



... and when he died in 1989, Ayatollah Ali Khameini became the new supreme leader (above on the right). The portrait of the two men can be seen absolutely everywhere in Iran.


Below : the bazaar next to Qeyam Square ...



... with Esfahani cyclists braving the urban chaos !!




A little walk further north and here is the Jameh mosque, a veritable museum of Islamic architecture where one can admire 800 years of Islamic design.




Rainy Sunday today, the weather is quite appropriate for the visit of the Golestan-e Shohada cemetery, one of Iran’s many cemeteries for those who died in the Iran-Iraq war (1980-1988).



Iran refers to this war as « the imposed war ». In 1980, hoping to take advantage of Iran’s domestic chaos, Iraq’s President Saddam Hussein made an opportunistic land grab on oil-rich Khuzestan province. This was a catastrophic miscalculation. Saddam presented the shaky Islamic revolution with an obvious enemy to rally against. Believing the Iraqi government (although the aggressor !!) to be the lesser of the two evils, the western powers and USSR took Iraq’s side, and weapons were only sold to Iran at vastly inflated black-market prices. However, by July 1982 Iran had forced the Iraqi’s back to the border, but rather than accept peace Iran adopted a new agenda that included occupying Najaf and Karbala, two Iraqi towns of particular importance to Shiite Muslims. The war dragged for another six years and in total, it is estimated 500,000 were killed on both sides.


The sun is back on Esfahan, and I cross the river into the most southern districts of the city. Women wearing chadors here are fewer and mini-scarves revealing as much hair as possible while not completely falling off are the norm.



By Iranian standards, those districts are called “liberal" … and you will see women adjusting their scarf to the limit constantly (below on the right).



And I finish my tour of Esfahan by the Armenian quarter called Jolfa. It dates from the time of Shah Abbas I, who transported this colony of Christians from the town of Jolfa (now on Iran’s northern border) en masse. Abbas sought their skills as merchants, entrepreneurs and artists. The Armenians had their religious freedom respected, but they were restricted to one area and kept away from the Islamic centers.

Below : Vank Cathedral ... with a clock imported from Bangkok !!




Tuesday the 3rd of February : I am back on the road this morning, and I make my way through Esfahan traffic with a new strategy. Those few days in town made me realize how looking straight in the eyes of the motorists was counter-productive, it is here considered as acknowledging your own weakness (when you are a pedestrian or a cyclist) and therefore condemns you to give way, all the time, from all the directions. Eye contact MUST be avoided, the difficulty is to see without looking …

I was expecting a small and quiet road … but on the first 50 km, it is a highway full of trucks again, then I make a right on a smaller road, with chicken factories every two kilometers. It stinks so bad it’s quite amazing people actually eat that. Further, the road becomes more interesting : no more trucks, no more factory but small villages instead, hills, mountains … and I realize that it’s actually the first time I really enjoy riding in Iran, after more than three weeks here.



Above : Mt Karkas (3,899 m).


Wednesday the 4th of February : the sky is very cloudy this morning when I leave Natanz, it looks like it could snow soon, and indeed it does not take long before snow starts to fall. It’s truly beautiful, but quite unpleasant with headwind.

I am going to Abyaneh today, a detour of 45 km through high mountain pass (2,300 m) on my way to Kashan. The snow is now falling quite heavily, my bicycle becomes all white, and I am climbing slowly, very slowly, the slopes are about 6 to 12% ! I stop very often, turning my back to the wind and enjoying the amazing beauty of the mountains covered in snow … and the silence that goes with it. At noon I’ve reached an elevation of 2,100 m, and the temperature is now -1 Celsius. An hour later, my derailleur is frozen and gears don’t work anymore … but Abyaneh is now in sight ...

 

Abyaneh is described as one of the most fascinating village in the country. Its twisting, climbing lanes of mud and stone pass ochre-colored houses with lattice windows and fragile wooden balconies. Abyaneh is situated at the foot of Mt Karkas (3,899 m), it is the highest village of the whole region and it is also the coldest. Tonight the temperature should drop well below zero, around -5 to -7 Celsius according to the local specialists. So with melted snow on the road this evening and hard freezing during the night, black ice on the road tomorrow is almost guaranteed ... and going downhill, as much as 12%, with a 60 kg bicycle on black ice, I've never tried it !

Inch Allah, we'll see tomorrow ...


Thursday the 5th of February : ... and this morning, the road is not frozen, the sky is blue and the sun is shining. Some may describe it as an act of Allah. It’s unbelievable but true, and here I go down, down, down … full speed in the straight portions (60 km/h or so) but super slow in the shady curves. Staying ON the bike and keeping the bike ON the road is the objective of the day.



I soon rejoin the old Natanz-Kashan road. There is very little traffic on it, the area is arid and nothing is in sight … except for some excavators a little bit further and some military tents around. It looks like there is some serious digging going on … then the signs “no photo” and “do not stop” appear, and are repeated regularly every 500 meters … hum, hum, there is something unusual around here, and finally I notice several anti-aircraft machine guns / rocket launchers on the top of every surrounding hill, which means only one thing, there is a nuclear facility around here ! 10 km later, I indeed pass by the entrance of the “Nuclear research center and uranium enriching facility of Natanz”, this is the most controversial facility of the Iranian nuclear program, and Israel already announced its intention to destroy it before it becomes operational.


Below : a village on the way to Kashan ... and after the nuclear facility of Natanz, where stopping and taking a picture is not "strictly prohibited", although not specifically authorized.




Friday the 6th of February : I am in Kashan, and I found a guesthouse right IN the bazaar of the city. My room, very tiny, no more than 10 sqm, has a vaulted ceiling and a window looking down in the bazaar …

The bazaar itself is huge, spread over more than a kilometer … and you can find there absolutely everything : spices, nuts, flowers, handicraft, tools, shoes, clothes … including those amazing dresses (below) I have only seen in shops on dummies so far.



Kashan is also a place where hundreds of grand traditional houses were built at the beginning of the 19th century. Most have long since been carved up or are literally turning to dust, but some have been restored and can be visited. Below, the Khan-e Borujerdi, originally built as a private residence for a (very) rich merchant of handicraft.




Saturday the 7th of February : I am heading further north towards Qom today, the road is straight and flat, and I ride the 100 km in less than 5h00, arriving there on time for lunch.

Qom is Iran’s second-holiest city after Mashhad, and it is home to both the Hazrat-e Masumeh shrine (below) and the hard-line clerics who have ruled the country since 1980. Shiite scholars and students come from across the world to study in Qom.




Sunday the 8th of February : still going north, this time towards the city of Saveh … and while I am on my way, I realize that for the first time since I am in Iran, after a month and 1,500 km on the road, I am seeing a cultivated piece of land …




Monday the 9th of February : always going north, this time towards Bua'in Zahra. Today is the day where Iranian hospitality achieved new highs in excellence. At noon, when I was preparing my usual bread and cheese sandwich with pistachios, the two policemen I met an hour earlier stop by and give me a takeaway meal they got from God only knows where. Later, when I arrive in Bua’In, I meet with Mahmood who invite me to his home for dinner, a long chat with his friends, and for a night on his carpet-couch. It just could not be any better than this ...


Tuesday the 10th of February :  some believe each excess in one direction is corrected by an excess in the opposite direction. I think this is what I experienced today. When I arrive in Abhar, and as it is starting to rain, the person in charge of the only guesthouse propose me a room without window, without heater, without shower and with shared toilets for 15 Euros … which is about five times the rate for this kind of place. Shame on him ...


Wednesday the 11th of February : if the warm temperatures (up to 20 degrees) of the last few days mislead me to believe spring had come earlier this year, this morning temperature proves the winter is still around : it’s 2 Celsius outside ! And this will be the maximum temperature of the day, since it will drop later to around 0.

It rained all night, and the clouds are still hanging low … but it does not rain anymore and I can see straight ahead that the sky is clearing up, or so I hope …



And it goes as anticipated for most of the morning ... until the wind starts to blow and messes everything up. Within 10 minutes only, and as I am only few kilometers away from my lunch stop in Soltaniyeh, I suddenly find myself right in the middle of a snow storm ... not exactly the most appropriate place to be when you ride a bicycle.

When I finally make it to Soltaniyeh, I find a shelter in a kebab shop … and I take my lunch while the storm slowly quiets down. Soltaniyeh was a purpose-built Mongol town constructed in the early 14th century. It lasted only few decades, being largely destroyed by invaders, but it retains some fine monuments among which the masterpiece is the Oljeitu Mausoleum. This is the world’s tallest brick dome !



This mausoleum was originally conceived to re-house from Najaf (now in Iraq) the remains of Imam Ali. That would have made it Shiite Islam's holiest pilgrimage site. However, the grandiose plan was abandoned when its sponsor, Mongol Sultan Oljeitu, inconveniently converted to Sunni Islam ...

Snow is now falling again, and I hesitate between spending the night here, as initially planned, or moving on to Zanjan 45 km away. I finally opt for the latter, and at the beginning everything is fine … but soon the snow becomes thicker and starts to pile up on the side of the road. I can’t ride the shoulder anymore, and suprisingly, all the horning from the trucks doesn’t help. The half melted snow makes brownish puddles in the middle of the road, and the trucks, them again, seem to enjoy sending it all over me. I am brown on the left side and white on the right side ! I did not anticipate being splashed over again and again, and since I did not wear the appropriate clothes, I soon find myself completely soaked … with my feet aching cold. I stop every 5 km to walk for a while and get the blood moving, and since it hurts, I guess it helps. Zanjan is now in sight, I’ll be fine for this time, but next time it will snow, I’ll think twice before going in head-on !


Thursday the 12th and Friday the 13th of February : Zanjan is a medium-size city of 300,000 inhabitants. Hidden in tiny alleys behind its modern and European façade, Zanjan retains some attractive mosques, a fantastic bazaar and two renovated caravanserais.



Above, Zanjan bazaar with one of the so many carpet shops (on the right) … and below, a Persian cat, who does not look too Persian actually, standing on a Persian carpet !




Saturday the 14th of February : I am heading towards the Turkish border this morning, only 500 km away and since I can’t stand the trucks anymore, I’ve chosen a tiny little road freshly surfaced going through some gorgeous mountain scenery, or so I’ve been told.

The road goes up gently, the slope is moderate and I find the signs indicating a 10% gradient quite too much. Snow can be seen more and more, especially on the northern side of the mountains. This is certainly the same snow that fell three days ago when I was cycling to Zanjan.



I cover about 20 km, getting closer and closer to a massive white mountain range where I am desperately trying to spot a way through. Well, there is no way through, but only a way above … here comes the 10% average gradient, with peaks up to 14 and 15%. Now this is serious riding, straight up …

… at a very slow pace. I am not moving much horizontally, but vertically this is quite impressive, with about 100 m elevation gain every 10 minutes, and soon I am all surrounded by snow.



It’s really an amazing sight … and when I get to the top of this first major climb, I see the road plunging deep in a narrow valley and emerging right before me, on the top of the next mountain, and again and again, this will be like this all day …

When I arrive in Dandy, the statistics of the day show some serious numbers : a total distance of 100 km, an average speed of 12 km/h, 1,800 m of climbing and a highest pass at 2,400 m. Quite a day !


Sunday the 15th of February : today is pretty much the same as yesterday, only this goes higher (2,650 m) and steeper (up to 16%) ! This is not a road, this is a roller coaster … with long slow climbs and exhilarating downhill as fast as 70 km/h. The road is very quiet now, no trucks no more, I am alone with the mountains, it’s white and it’s drop-dead gorgeous …



Later during the afternoon, I reach Takht-e Soleiman, a Zoroastrianism spiritual center dating from the 3rd century. It’s a mix of ruins and ugly scaffolding in front of a crater lake.



Zoroastrianism was Iran’s pre-Islamic religion. Takht-e Soleiman has no historical link to Old Testament king Salomon. The name was a cunning invention by the temple’s Persian guardians in the face of the Arab invasion. Realizing Islam’s reverence for biblical prophets, they entirely fabricated a tale of Salomon’s one-time residence to avert its certain destruction. The ruse worked, the complex survived and the name stuck.

A little lie can sometimes be more efficient than a large army.


Monday the 16th of February : it was supposed to be flat today … well, it’s not.



Up and down, and always lots of snow again on the top !



I am now riding in Iranian Kordestan, through several -of course- Kurdish villages. Men wear the traditional dress of a short jacket and baggy trousers. Women wear colorful and often sparkly long dresses over baggy trousers. It’s both elegant and lively, which is quite a change after all this black and dark grey I have seen in most of Iran.

After yet another pass, I can’t recall how many since this morning, there were too many, here comes the final downhill : 20 km without even touching the pedals, straight down, with amazing views all along. It’s so scenic, it’s hard to keep the concentration and focus on the obstacles, here two shepherd dogs in the middle of the way, and one hairpin below the whole sheep herd : steady on the brakes, no victim !! I go down all the way to the bottom of a valley where a tiny river flows down to Miyando’Ab, the destination of the day. The hardest part is over, I can now stroll over the last 80 km …




Tuesday the 17th of February : long day today, with 150 km to Orumiyeh and headwind all the way … the wind is so strong and the trucks so many, that I actually found myself thrown out of the way a couple of times, which is not really pleasant and sometimes even a little bit scary. The wind is the cyclist own best enemy ... and in Iran, especially when you ride westward, you can think about it every single day !!

Later during the afternoon, I finally reach the southern end of the Orumiyeh lake, a huge but salty lake which attracts plenty of migratory birds, notably flamingos in spring …




Wednesday the 18th and Thursday the 19th of February : Orumiyeh is my last stop in Iran on my way to Turkey. The border is now only 50 km away, and maybe it is a wind of freedom coming from Turkey’s secular habits, but from all the places I have visited in Iran, Orumiyeh is definitely the city where the scarves are pushed the furthest at the back, symbolizing somehow Iranian women wish for emancipation … Good luck to them !!


Friday the 20th of February : I leave this morning for the border town of Sero, perched atop a pass at 1,700 m. This is the most quiet of the two border crossings between both countries. It’s so quiet that for a while I was wondering if it was really opened.

I arrive in Sero around noon, it's snowing. I present myself and my passport at the immigration office, where despite a long and meticulous inspection by four different officers, no question is asked, and no answer is given, just a stamp, red ink, and I am good to go. A soldier escorts me to the gate normally used by cars. It's locked, but he opens it for me. I walk a few steps through and I hear the sound of gate closing right behind me. My trip in Iran is over, there is no way back … and just in front of me, I can see the Turkish flag next to a statue of Atatürk !



The highlight in Iran

It’s the amazing hospitality Iranian people are capable of, light-years away from the clichés of hostility widely spread by and in Western countries. I knew it, so to some extent I was expecting it, but still, I greatly under-estimated the phenomenon. Invitations for lunch, dinner or for the night have been countless, and so were the gifts. Iranians take their role as hosts very seriously, this comes from a genuine desire to put other’s needs first and please where possible. If we could all think and act this way, the planet would certainly be a better place for all … let's try ...




What I liked / didn't like in Iran

I liked	I did not like
Iranian fabulous hospitality	The POLICE !!
a unique sense of prettiness in most things	dangerous behaviours on the road
"trompe l’œil" paintings	number of cars and trucks, especially trucks, on the roads
snow-capped mountains in Kurdestan (north)	monotonous landscapes in the south, with long stretch of straight roads and headwind. Cycling in Iran was no fun
Yazd mud-brick old city	the so many women wearing black chador, shadows of the streets, looking like inconsolable widows
endless lively bazaars	energy wasting, especially for heating buildings : 30 degrees and opened windows are far too frequent
abandonned caravanserais on the side of the road	the single and ever-present dish in most restaurants … kebab … I can’t take it anymore.
dates (from Bam) and pistachios	discovering at breakfast that the yoghurt I bought yesterday ... is garlic yoghurt

Useful information about Iran :