Iran and back in a month on a 650.

Keeping us all entertained, 🍺 my nephew just completed cycling the length of New Zealand, sent him the links to Martin and the Spanish couple as ideas for his next adventure. Looking forward to your next update.
 
Great ride report so far.

Just read this having a coffee break in the office.

Jealous, moi?

Looking forward to the next instalment.

Ride safely.
 
Great RR and I am looking forward to reading your updates. You wanted an adventure :) and you certainly seem to have got it.
 
I had not slept great but woke early and packed up ready for the journey to the border. It was chilly enough and I needed my gortex and since I was at 1,600 meters it is not surprising. I took the route selected by the garmin which was on through town but a mile out of town the road, ceased to be a road, or at least a tarmac road. I thought about turning around but continued, it was like being back in Africa. However the bike coped well and I hung on and we managed to get through it. The road south was fine and I made good time but soon came across a familiar figure. I recognised him immediatly because there are not many cyclists that ride around with an ice axe in their carrier. Martin was smiling as usual and told me about his evening which had been spent with some people who called him over to join them as he rode past and ended up feeding him and giving him a bed for the night.
He was aiming for Mt Ararat today. I asked him how I would recognise it and he explained that a mountain of that size will be obvious, it is much higher than the other mountains in the area. We wished each other well and parted. I rode on looking out for the big mountain. Well Martin was not wrong, as you will see from the photo above. It is massive and my guess is that the top 2,000 meters are covered in snow. In fact initially it was hard to distinguish it from the surrounding clouds. Martin was not sure he would be allowed to climb the mountain but if he they do let him, it seemed quite a challenge.

The first indication I was approaching the border was the long queue of lorries. Passing the lorries I got to the border which was very quiet. The Turkish side was reasonably straight forward, except for one stamp which needed to be got from the police inside the main building. There were a few "helpers" around. I generally avoid helpers but am not averse to taking a bit of guidance from them but not engaging them formally. The scars of arrogant helpers on the Rosso border in Africa are slow to heal. I did learn one lesson from that experience, which I always observe since, is that I only give my papers to a uniformed official at a border and make sure I get them back in my hand. At this border the helpers were mainy looking to change money. So once the Turkish side were finished, the Turkish gate was opened to let me through but I had to wait a further 15 mins for the Iranian side to open theirs.

Again helpers appeared who I shooed away but it was less clear who were helpers and officials as the staff were not all in uniform. Anyway, with an informal helpers guidance I got the passport stamped. Then the Carnet De Passage(for the bike) was dealt with first by one civilian official and then a second. This second official asked for a photocopy of the main passport page and another of the visa page. Well I had the main photocopy but not the visa. I was sent to a shop to get the photo copy but the guy said no. He did not explain and I asked if there was somewhere else, he said no, and then explained that they had lost power, and was good enough to explain that to the official. The official accepted the photocopy of the main passport page and finalised his part of the process, and produced a white sheet. This had to be signed by 2 other people. I then went to the bank to exchange money and was accosted by a guy saying he had a better rate. I checked the rate with him and with the bank and he was about 10% better, so used him. So now I had to ride about a mile to the exit, get someone else to stamp my white paper, give that paper to another guy and I was free to leave. I hate borders, and love the feeling of riding away from them. I rode for a few miles and pulled over and parked and had a drink something to eat, sent a few messages before riding on to Tabriz. The whole border crossing had taken less than an hour and a half and in fact was not bad, but I still find the process stressful particularly when being hasseled by helpers. Anyway it was done and I was loose in Iran.

As I can't get access to Photobucket from here and Wi-Fi is poor I'll have to add photos later, apart from this one just loaded, as a first view of Iran as I drove away from the border.
 

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The hotel I found in Tabriz was basic but cheap. The room had 2 beds a domestic fridge and little else. The bathroom had all the essentials, excluding towels and toilet paper, but neither were an issue as I carry both. My towel is interesting as it is a towel given to me at home for cleaning the bike. I took it with the theory that once the likelyhood of camping is over it can be discarded, lightening my load, and I could use it to clean the bike first. When I arrived there was no English spoken so the negotiations on the room was with sign language and I never established if there was breakfast included. I'd got up early to check the bike and pack with the intention of getting an Iranian sim card for my phone. At the point where I had given up on the possibility of breakfast, one of the hotel guys appeared with an armful of bread and some cheese and indicated he'd be serving soon. I went upstairs and received the most interesting breakfast trays. On the tray was a piece of the flat bread, a small slice of the fresh salty cheese, a tiny pot of jam, a portion of butter and a teapot of cay. I have not missed anything out. Understandably all was consumed and I was glad I had a spare boiled egg in my room. This description somewhat undersells the dining experience though, as I was welcomed warmly by the others in the dining room and all said their goodbys as they left. When I went back down stairs a couple of these old gentlemen were looking at the bike. A discussion ensued about where I come from and they clearly had little idea where Ireland was. So to help explain I took out the worn out Europe map I keep in my tank bag and brought it inside the hotel to spread it out without tearing it any more (a section of Italy is missing already so I'll never be able to go there). One of the old gentlemen seemed to suggest it was time for a new map, the cheek of him! Anyway I spread the map out with minimal additional damage and showed them where Ireland was and my route and that I had covered 5,000km. Again another friendly exchange without understanding each others language. This promped me to put the map back with Ireland showing on the front to help answer future questions and I had quite a few before leaving Tabriz.

So suitably replenished I went off to a phone shop, pointed out to me by a couple of Swiss bikers the evening before. We shared a coffee, a meal and lots of travel stories and ideas. They were off to Mongolia on R1200GS's. So to the phone shop, where the guy was very efficient, checked and copied my passport, filled in a form which I signed 3 times and installed my sim. The process was so simple I omitted to check it worked for data and allowed me to dial international, so back I went and he got it sorted. So I now have a sim in my spare phone which allows me to generate a wireless hotspot, just like the one I got in Turkey.

The bazaar is 7sq km and I was aware I might get lost, I managed that a couple of times in the souk in Marakesh. Mind you this was quite a different experience to Marrakesh. This bazaar is for the locals not tourists. I was not hassled once or encouraged to come inside and be shown some stuff. You could say the Moroccans are better salesmen but it was great to experience a bazaar as it was originaly intended, a place for locals to shop with lots of choice. There were carpets of course but there were also electric plugs, lots of tea and herbs and spices. No tourist trinkets to be seen. My single purchase was a bag of Turkish delight or maybe that should be Persian delight.

The night before I had a review of the itinerary and realized I needed to get a move on, so decided that once I'd visited the bazaar and got my sim I would move further southeast with the hope of getting to Esfahan the next day. It would be a pity to miss out on another of those breakfasts but I would always have the memory. There was a lot of interest as I readied the bike, which sat on the pavement outside the hotel, with people stopping as they past, interested in where I came from. Once loaded up I followed the GPS guidance and joined the hectic traffic. There are very little traffic rules, cars change lanes, make up an extra lane, but the whole thing flows like a liquid. Apart from the odd toot on the horn, no one seems to get annoyed or angry. You do need to have your wits about you and focus on what is in front of you, to the sides and behind. The GPS mapping I have from Iran is a special purchase and supposedly like Garmin mapping. Well it's not bad but is not as clear with the directions. It took me 3 attempts, and about 20 mins to get on to the Tehran motorway to Zanjan. On one of the slip roads I had a sizable rear step out, but no consequences and I continued with my journey.

The road climbed quite a bit leaving the city and in fact it got up over 2,000 meters a few times. As we got closer to Zanjan the landscape around became quite interesting. It was mostly rocky but the rocks were all coloured in pastel shades, quite beautiful. Occasionally I noticed little villages, with mud built houses, similar to some I'd seen in the Atlas mountains of Morocco. Arrived safely in Zinjan and found a nice hotel.
 
What a good start to my Sunday morning reading this RR. Thanks once again for these excellent reports. If borders were more structured, and better managed it would make it so much more easier. But well we are in it for the adventure and experience.
Ride safe :beerjug

Sent from my SM-G930F using Tapatalk
 
Pictures below are from Tabriz, 3 from the Bazaar, note the brick ceilings. The third are of a locked helmet I noticed. I suspect the guy got fed up with having his helmet stolen.
 

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These 2 photos are from my ride from Tabriz to Zanjan yesterday with the beautifully coloured rocks and dried mud villages.
 

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I was accosted by a crowd in a small village today and they would not let me through. One guy approached with a menacing tray of orange squash in plastic cups and his mate was equally armed with a tray of buns. I was held at a stanstill until I drank the orange juice and ate the bun. Another couple of buns were forced on me before I managed to escape while they were molesting another traveller. Further down the road I was stopped again and another orange squash was inflicted on me. This occurred while taking a shortcut recommended by the hotel owner in Zanjan. I have no idea what it was all about but it was fun. This has never happened to me in Hampshire.

My ride today was from Zanjan to Esfahan, a full days ride. The terrain was much flatter than of late and easier riding even if the views were less interesting. The GPS mapping struggled too and seemed to have a gap in the mapping in the middle of the route. It reminds me of a time in London when I did not know the city well and used an A to Z map book to calculate the time it would take to get to a friends house. The journey took much longer than I estimated, as 2 pages of the map were missing. We'll I resorted to my paper map and found the right way and continued unmolested.

I have been asking for "benzine" in service stations to get petrol as opposed to diesel, however today I have picked up that they also have "super" which I assume is a better grade of petrol so will ask for that from now on, as the bike deserves it. I hesitate do disturb the bad faries but the bike is running well, starting on the first button press. I checked the oil before leaving Zanjan and the chain did not need adjustment and may have now worn in. Oh, I was stopped by the Iranian police today, in fact I was not paying attention and missed their signal to stop but they kindly did not use their revolvers. Walking back sheepishly I did not think I had been speeding as the limit was 120kmph on this motorway. We tried to communicate but failed and it ended with the guy smiling and shaking my hand and off I went.

I'd not booked a hotel in Esfahan and had read that hotels can be scarse and expensive. Some of the cheaper ones charge for wifi too. So I picked a medium expense hotel from the 2012 Lonley Planet guide, the latest, which was also in the GPS so I would be able to find it. This part of the GPS mapping has been accurate so far. The guide also mentioned that the Esfahan metro seems never ending and causes havoc to the traffic, they are right on both counts. Anyway I got to the hotel location but could not immediatly see the sign. A helpful old gentlemen asked if he could help, and pointed out the hotel and showed where I should park the bike and came in with me. I was beginning to regret my choice as this looked well above my budget. I asked for a small cheap single room. I was told it was 100$ and was about to leave. The guy asked how long I was staying and I said 2 days. He said that if I was prepared to be out of my room by 8am on the second day he would reduce the cost to 60$/day a great price for Esfahan. Well this was more like it, it had a car park, wifi, a good location, and a delightful room, a step up from Tabriz. The early start was something I had considered for the ride to Shiraz, and this made my mind up.

I went back to the bike to move it to the car park. The old guy was still there. He told me he was a guide and would show me around tomorrow. I said no thank you but he persisted. Now after a long ride in the heat I am not the most tolerant person to deal with and this guy persisted a bit too long. He even pointed out his car and said he would be ready to guide me at 8 in the morning. He now understands clearly that I will not be requiring a guide and that his marketing approach may need modification when dealing with tired bikers. Later I joined the locals promenading down one of the main streets and my economy meal was a roast chicken from a stall in town and an ice cream to finish
 
Firstly the bike at a service station today then my menacing locals. I was admiring the bike as I ate a remains bun. Its not dirty, it is just showing the appropriate patina for an adventure bike on a trip. This is testament to the 3,500 miles covered so far.
 

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Lovely write-up, really enjoying it, DL :thumb
 
And a perfect end to the day as well reading this ... the Sunday coukd not have been better. Thanks for sharing DL.

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