Day 81 - Wednesday 21st June - Sara'eyn to Kandovan

The morning was crisp and clear. Loris had a headache from the 1700m altitude. I had thought that we would have been off the northern Iranian Plateau when we came to the Caspian, but on a closer look, it continues into Turkey. The Caspian lies as a huge drain hole in the middle of it with an altitude of -35m.

We have had trouble with the Garmins for the past few mornings. They have failed to calculate the route. This morning was no exception and the lead car drove us around town before we found the right road out of town. But in the process we found a plane parked at the end of the main street, a bit like the Yak in Osh. It may have been someone’s home, a shop or café.

Distant snow capped peaks followed the road. The whole landscape was dry. Cattle and sheep grazed on the hills and on the few flatter valley floors cotton and wheat grew.

We were on a back road. The traffic was light and we enjoyed the best driving in Iran. No one was trying to kill us. Maybe we should have been on these all the time as the road condition was very good.

We passed through the town of Sarab. It looked like it had been struck by an earthquake. There were kilometres of unfinished buildings. Bits of reinforcing steel sprouting everywhere, the frames standing like skeletons and half finished brick walls. Apparently the previous President had embarked on a massive construction program, committing most of the Iranian Budget to construction of low cost housing all over the country. The objective was to give or sell these to the poor on a 99 year finance arrangement. Despite the attraction of leaving the mortgage to Allah and the kids, the program was not well received as the apartments were very poorly constructed and in the country, not where the jobs were. And unlike the Chinese, Iran did not have the funds to just transplant a couple of steel mills to fix the problem. The President has gone, but the decaying ruins still blot the landscape.

The current moderate / progressive President Rhouani is well received by the hopeful people with whom we have managed to discuss politics.

The other blot on the landscape are the religious posters. The pictures of the Ayatollahs Khomeini (Islamic Revolution) and Khamenei (current supreme religious leader) rein down on the populous from every available vantage point, just to remind them how to wear their scarves, how and when to pray (if they had forgotten) and “Down with Israel”. The propaganda seems to be very effective as all the women are wearing their scarves. Some stridently with heavy black shrouding most of their head, while others somehow manage to balance a piece of silk on the back of their head. It maybe that the fines and religious police helping to reinforce the message, helps. I think I’m back in 1984.

Tabriz with a population of nearly 2 million is the largest city in Northwest Iran and its economic hub. Ethnically and culturally it has a stronger link to Azerbaijan than to current day Iran. Most of them were in their cars to greet us as we arrived.  

The bazaar covers more than 7sq kilometres. Loris gave the carpet section a good shake before I decided that things were getting carried away. Call me mean, but we did not have a lot of room to store a 3x2m kilim in the car unless one person gave up wither their seat or bag. We did not come to buy a carpet and had other things to see. Tabriz has its own traditional designs as do many of the carpet centres in Iran. Someone with some knowledge can immediately tell you where the carpet was from, by the designs.

There are both halls and caravansaries in the Bazaar. The halls are brick passageways with vaulted brick ceilings lined shops. The caravansari are open courtyards with shops on the four sides. Traditionally the craftsmen would work here making whatever that part of the bazaar was noted for, carpets, jewellery, copperware or scents. Today most of the manufacture has moved out of the Bazaar.

The carpet section was one of the strong points. Golden jewellery lined the stores of another section, and then there was all the day to day stuff such as clothes and toys. The spice section was small and coppersmith virtually non-existant, at least as far we could see.

We had reckoned that we might have lunch in the bazaar, even just some fruit, nuts and a drink. As it was the middle of Ramadan any sort of food was difficult to find, as were drinks.

We looked for the Church of St Mary. Tabriz has had a Christian community nearly as longs as there have been Christians. This 12 century church was mentioned by Marco Polo. Today it stands on a busy corner opposite the bazaar behind a high brick and steel fence. The gates were securely padlocked. The only visibility we had was of the conical zinc roof topped with a cross.

Our overnight destination was Kandovan a small town in the mountains built into the hillside. Our hotel for the night was a room in a cave. Today the town survives on its tourist income and a little honey and grazing sheep on the surrounding hillsides. At 2200m high the air was cool and dry. I should imagine that in winter the place would be snowed bound.

Day 80 - Tuesday 20th June - Rasht to Sara'eyn

It was raining when we departed in the morning. We were basically headed north, up the western side of the Caspian to Astara then turn inland and away from the Sea. Traffic was light as we headed out of town and continued that way for most of the day. We were all relieved with the more manageable tempo and not being bombarded by curious cars wanting to run over us.

Rice paddies, grape vines and the Caspian Sea

Rice paddies, grape vines and the Caspian Sea

Tony had found a medieval fort in Lisar which provided a perfect stop for morning tea. The climb up to the top of the buttresses gave an expansive view over the surrounding bottle green rice paddies interspersed with grape vines. Not a combination we had come across before.

As we turned inland at Astara we were on the Azerbaijan border which we proceeded to follow up a long and steep mountain climb. The higher we went the cooler and more misty it became, so that nearing the top we had to slow down as it was becoming difficult to see the road.

Cotton fields

Cotton fields

A tunnel linked the western side. As we passed through it seemed as we were transported to a new world. The sun was shining in a cloudless sky, the temperature rose about 15c and the lush green forest gave way to a sparse grassland. Cropping was not evident, but grazing was.

We stopped on our way to Ardabil to visit the beautiful Sheikh Safi-od-Din Mausoleum. Safi-od-Din was a Safavid patriarch and dervish-Sufi mystic in the 13 century. His descendants expanded his domains, so that by the beginning of the 16th century they had control of the whole of Persia as the Safavid Dynasty.

On to Sara’eyn at the base of the still snow capped, 5000m high Sabalan Mountains. We had been the leaders for the day, but failed to fulfil our final duty of guiding everyone safely into the hotel. The car stopped 500m from the gate and refused to restart. No fuel was getting through to the carburettors. So, for a second time on the trip, we were towed home.

The mechanical team traced the fuel back to the tank, blew through the lines to check they weren’t blocked and reassembled. The car started first hit. Although the problem was solved, the cause still uncertain.

We wandered around the small town to find a place to eat. Stopped often to ask where we were from and pose with the locals for selfies. They all wished there were more tourists and had positive feelings for Australia, we have yet to ascertain why.   

More ice cream please!

More ice cream please!

Day 79 - Monday 19th June - Ramsar to Rasht

We were met at the hotel by the MG Car Club of Iran. Don’t be confused, these were not owners ofold MGs, but proud drivers of the products we saw in being manufactured in Shanghai. SAIC, the owner of the MG brand setting up car clubs for the new owners to promote the heritage of the brand.

We headed for the beach. It looked as though it was going to rain, but just stayed grey long enough for us to photograph the old and the new with proud owners on the shores of the Caspian. Many had travelled up for the weekend to meet us, so it was a big occasion for them. Unfortunately not many spoke much English, so conversation was limited.

Many of the round abouts (and there are many and traffic lights few) have decorations in the middle. This was one of the more elaborate.

Many of the round abouts (and there are many and traffic lights few) have decorations in the middle. This was one of the more elaborate.

It was then s short run to Rasht through built up areas and rice paddies as we had plans to visit Masuleh, an ancient hill top village, while half the cars were getting a long overdue service at the MG Service Centre in town.

The rode out to Masuleh through rice paddies and tea, and then started climbing up through the forest. Described as one of Iran’s most beautiful villages, the thousand year old village climbs steeply up the hillside so that the roof of one house is the front yard of the next.

On return the remaining cars were off for service. Like in Shanghai, the local mechanics were keen to work on the cars. But this time I don’t think they were quite the novelty or new experience. There are a lot of old cars in Iran. The most common being the locally made Pykan a version of the 1970’s Hilman Hunter, particularly the ute version. Knock-off, wire wheels were a novelty though.

We changed the now black oil, greased all the suspension and tightened all the nuts and bolts we thought of. Some, unsurprisingly were a bit loose.

Off to dinner at 9.15pm. The restaurant was packed with those finishing their day of fast. The service much quicker than the previous evening and we were on our way back to the hotel, a bit after  10.30pm.     

Day 78 - Sunday 18th June - Gorgan to Ramsar

A late start to the day was scheduled so that the mechanical trio could scavenge parts from Ginger as there was no doubt that the car was going no further.

From the time we left the hotel it was obvious that the group was stressed. The Garmins would not calculate our destination and so we were trying to navigate blind out of the city. Our guide was in the lead, but with his and the local traffic ducking and weaving, soon the group was spread over a sizeable distance trying to navigate by radio instructions.

It seemed to go downhill from there. We were headed the same direction as the traffic for Tehran and there was lots of it driving at well above the speed limit, despite the constant threat of police radar traps. There are a multitude of issues: Driving so close to the rear of the MG I can see the sun glinting off their gold fillings when they smile, while they try to find a passage between me and the concrete barrier dividing the roadway. When passing I can feel the rush of wind from their bow wave race through my open window as I check to see if the sideview mirrors are still in place. They lane drift. This may be caused by the fact that the lanes are poorly defined, or just that it reflects that no one has bothered to repaint because they don’t get used. One of our group explained that this may be our problem, not theirs. He suggested that we give up trying to drive straight sticking to one lane, but to go with the flow of traffic from one side of the road to the other. And then there are U turns. There are no left turns off the highway, just U turns to go back to where you needed to turn. At any time the car in front may suddenly slow and maybe stop, to do a U turn while travelling in what we would consider the overtaking lane, or more frustratingly you suddenly find a car pulling out across two lanes to complete a U turn from the opposite direction. Cars merging in from the side may just stop mid stream, generally when half way across a lane, or just proceed to drift across a couple of lanes with looking. Round abouts are a combination of everything. Cars stopping mid stream, cars barging in and cars drifting out across 3 lanes without looking.

All in all it was a very intense and exhausting day. The combination of the concentration needed to try to keep a safe space around the car constantly accelerating, braking or swerving to keep out of the way of others combined with the physical effort of driving an MG and the heat of the cabin was draining on all.

In each of the various towns and villages we passed through banners displaying the portraits of young men hang from poles along the roadside. They were the martyrs from that village who died in the 1980 -87 Iraq-Iran war. There were a lot of them, somewhere like 1.5m we were told. The population of Iran at that stage was about 40m, so it had a sizeable impact on the country. The US receives most of the blame as they supported Saddam Hussein in that venture.

By the roadside, dump trucks were loaded with water melon. Smaller trucks filled with a kind of rock melon, while buckets of cherries, apricots and peaches rounded out the offering.

We pulled into a small village for lunch. I headed off to find some bread and tomatoes to go with our cheese. Generally the first question we get asked by locals is where we are from or alternatively ,are we German.   By the time I reached the small store, they knew that there was a group of Australians in town. They smiled and welcomed. The tomatoes were a no problem, but the bread more of a challenge. I walked next door and found the empty baker, and then all realised I was after naan. 

Around 4.00pm we turned right to head towards the Caspian Sea coast, and a lot of the traffic turned left back to Tehran. But it was still another few hours to the hotel.

The area along the Caspian is lush green. Cloud capped, forested mountains back the coastal plain.    Much of the flat area is dedicated to rice growing, with irrigation channels flowing down from the mountains. The day time temperature was around 32c and the humidity high. It felt like we were back in Asia.

An inappropriate image. I had forgotten to reattach the legs to my pants and Loris conveniently forgot her scarf.

An inappropriate image. I had forgotten to reattach the legs to my pants and Loris conveniently forgot her scarf.

We pulled into Babolsar on the Caspian for afternoon tea. The sky was grey and the wind from the north was whipping up a small, brown surf along the rocky shore. Apartment blocks stood sentinel to the east and west. A man walked past and suggested the scene was beautiful. I nodded in agreement, but lacked conviction. Ramsar, our destination, was another 180k to the west.

You see very little of the Caspian from the road as buildings and shops, in various states of completion separate road from coast.

We arrive around 7.00pm at our hotel on a hill overlooking the sea. From the outside, it had seen better days. Looking at the shops in the foyer, it receives most of its business from local tourists.

We headed out for dinner to a small tea house on the grey sand beach. It had been recommended by our guide. The 4 of us were the only customers when we arrived. It was a challenge to order, but we managed to get agreement on some local trout and salad. It arrived after an hour and a half. They had to go out and buy it from the fisherman. Its freshness did not last long as they deep fried it to a crispy wafer. As you would know you can’t buy beer in Iran, but you can get a wide range of fake beer. No alcohol of course, but a wide range of fruit flavours from peach to lemon and classic. Its not a great substitute to the real thing.

We ended up in bed around 11.30 absolutely exhausted.   

Day 77 - Saturday 17th June - Mashhad to Gorgan

And then there were seven.

Its just under 360k from Mashhad to Herat to our east in Afghanistan. But that is not where we were headed. Our direction was nearly 600k west to Gorgan a few miles from the Caspian Sea.

It was Saturday, but the traffic was like peak hour. Coming into the city was at a stand still, probably due to the multiple traffic accidents we passed, including a car on its side, while out of town moved at a steady pace. You were constantly alert to someone changing lanes into you or just forming their own. Round-abouts were a special challenge. In AUS incoming traffic gives way to traffic on the round-about. In the Stans, disfunctionally, traffic on the round-about gives way to the entering traffic until the whole lot ends in a standstill, although this was rare due to the lack of traffic. In Iran, no one gives was. Entering traffic does not bother to slow, they just dodge and weave their way through the traffic trying to exit.

We are also dealing with motor bikes again. Not in the numbers of China, and these are the petrol variety, not electric, but they are still used to carry whole families. On one a 2 year old in pink sun glasses sat calmly in front of her father, with mother holding on from behind. The father wore the helmet, the mother a scar and the child’s hair blew in the breeze. And on another a 12month old was wedged between father and mother. I presume that she was asleep, not suffocated. 

We made it out of town and things managed to quieten down as we headed down the Toos Plain. A wide open valley hemmed in by parched mountain ranges on the northern Iran plateau. They were just starting to harvest the wheat like they had for thousands of years before. This was a major Silk Road thoroughfare as the remnants of old caravanseri bore testament. Small flocks of sheep and goats grazed on the stubble of the harvested wheat.

We stopped at a 12 century astronomical observatory in Radkan. The 25m tall tower was used by Nasar Al-Tusi to calculate the earth’s diameter and explain discrepancies between Aristotle’s and Ptolemy’s theories of planetary movement. Today, the tower sits forlorn, in the middle of the wheat fields. The small, mud brick agricultural village of Radkan a kilometre away. Its hard to imagine that 800 years ago this was a major centre for the study trigonometry and astronomy.

Our departure was delayed as fuel was pouring out the carburettor overflow pipe of Burgundy. A simple removal of floats and needle and a clean fixed the issue.

The roadside villages were generally low rise with an unkept appearance. Many mud brick. Some had been demolished in a recent earthquake. Wall nuts began to appear in roadside stalls and grapes were being grown on the hillsides.

We turned off into one of the small villages a few kilometres off the highway for lunch. The mud brick village was set amongst steep rocky crags. We found a private spot for lunch. Given that we are in the middle of Ramadan in Iran we prefer to eat out of the view of the general public, especially if they are not eating or drinking for the day. We had been joined the previous evening by Mohammed and Ali, a crew from MG Iran. They were going to accompany us across the country and help with service issues.  At lunch we were also joined by a guy from the MG Car Club of Iran. He drove a new Chinese model MG6 so was keen to have a ride in an old version. David took him for a ride in Ginger.

When they had not returned after 45 minutes and failed to answer the radio, we set off in search. A few kilometres down the road we found them with accompanying police and ambulance. On their return to our lunch spot they collided head on with a local vehicle which had drifted wide on a bend. All vehicle occupants were Ok other than a few cuts and bruises. Both vehicles were write offs. The irony of this was that David was one of the most cautious of the drivers in the group.

The group was both relieved that no one was hurt, but devastated by the implications. While waiting for the tow trucks, we divided the group. One party to remain and assist, the other to head on as we were just adding to the scene and did not need to get involved in discussions with police or organise vehicle salvage.

A strong north westerly wind buffeted the cars as the road continued to climb to over 1500m. The mountains were grey and foreboding with heavy white clouds rolling over the top. Then as we descended, the few, sparse trees became a forest. We were in the provence of Golestan and the Golestan National Park. The speed limit on the descent was 60kph. We were doing around 80kph and being harassed by trucks and cars flooding past over unbroken lines on a steep twisting road. It was not a pleasant experience, especially after the lunchtime episode.

The Park opened out into a rich agricultural scene reminiscent of Europe. Treed hillsides and fields of wheat rolling across the valley floor and up the sides. Harvest was in full swing here too. Semi trailers and flocks of sheep and goats roamed the harvested fields. The semi trailers collecting the bails of hay shared that littered the fields while the flocks of sheep and goats grazed on the stubble.

As we passed through towns kids on bikes buzzed around the cars like paparazzi. One balanced on his rear wheel, others two or three up all wielding phone cameras taking vidoes as they circled the cars at speed. In cars, men with face stubble and a grapy smile, would wave. When we stopped, unlike in China when we were mobbed, everyone shyly kept their distance to take photos, as though it was forbidden. I am not sure whether its Ramadan and the starvation, or the segregation of men and women, or just that their dicks are bigger than their brains, but this is a weird place.

We arrived at our hotel at 8.00pm. As we drove in it was wet and getting dark and we were still the only cars that had headlights switched on. The street lights had been on for a few minutes. We were all tired and snappy with one another.

The second group arrived an hour later. The vehicle towed to an MG Iran yard about 12k from the hotel.  

Day 76 - Friday 16th June - Mashhad

Today is a public holiday in Iran (to commemorate the death of Imam Ali, the second Imam of Islam after Mohamed) and consequently everything is shut, other than the Imam Reza Haram (shrine complex), which is the reason for Mashhad’s (place of martyrdom) existence and importance in the Islamic world. So we visited it. A taxi from the hotel drove us there. As the complex came into view around the last corner, the car was drive by divine guidance as the driver closed his eyes and raised his hands in prayer and muttered a few words.

Mashhad is Iran’s holiest and second largest city. The shrine complex commemorates the martyrdom of Shia Islam’s 8th Imam in 817 AD. Today an estimated 20 million pilgrims converge on Mashhad each year to pay their respects. To accommodate the pilgrims, the complex has grown by a factor of 10 since the Revolution. The charitable foundation that manages the shrine has become a business conglomerate with businesses and investments ranging from baking to carpets, and minerals to transport. It gets most of its money from donations, bequests and selling of expensive grave sites.

The women in the group were required to wear a chador, in their case a light coloured bed sheet, over their head and shoulders. The locals nearly all wore black, given the significance of the day. Cameras and bags are forbidden, but we could take in phones and snap away on them. Women and men entered through separate entrances and are all frisked.

The complex consists of 7 huge courtyards that can accommodate half a million worshippers, 4 sanctuaries, a university, a number of museums and grand libraries and a hospital all built around the central gold domed Mausoleum of Imam Reza. The complex currently has a diameter of around 320m, covers nearly 1m sqm and construction of new areas continues apace. Roadways and car parks are all located underneath. The courtyards are all covered in carpets, every wall in majolica and mosaics.

Our guide gave us a grand architectural tour explaining all the design elements in the buildings from the grand archways built to resemble a man, the domed chambers borrowed from the Zoroastrian fire worship and the minarets taken from the desert towers of communication and guidance.

The place was buzzing with people coming to secure a spot for the service tonight. Men with brightly coloured feather dusters wandered about keeping control and in the middle of it a steady stream of coffins with accompanying funeral processions entered the Islamic Revolution Courtyard to be bid farewell to a better place.

The guides were knowledgeable and the management of the complex keen for us to have a very positive experience. Which we did. We left far better informed. We were dazzled by the enormity and splendour of the place. It was an enterprise of major significance to the Iranian economy and a place of spiritual significance to Shia Moslems. It personifies the Islamic Republic.

We returned to our hotel to attend to more mundane matters. Tony’s daughter Tashi rejoined the group in Mashhad after leaving us in Laos. Not only has she brought her infectious smile back to the group, but was the courier of a load of spare parts. We spent the afternoon getting greasy and installing these.

For us it was new fuel pump to replace the one that failed in southern China. Although we have managed with a couple of substitutes over the intervening 50 odd days, their specification was not correct and could have been a contributing factor to the problems we were experiencing on rough roads. On smooth roads the car performed faultlessly, and given that we now hope that most of the rough surface is behind us, we may not know whether there has been an improvement.

A number of the group have come down with a gastric bug over the past 48 hours and I am not feeling great as well. The Nurse from Hell has reshrouded her mantle and prescribed a diet of bread and water just in case, determined to kill something. I hope it’s the bug.

Day 75 - Thursday 15th June - Ashgabat to Mashhad (Iran)

I’m 7 days behind with the Blog as a result of lack of internet access, and a congested itinerary. We are also getting tired and am struggling to still rise at 0500 and spend a couple of hours getting things up to date. So have made a decision that I’ll recommence with the current day to day and then try to catch up with the missing week when I can get some time. Not a perfect situation as it misses the highlights of the Silk Road, Samarkand and Bukhara. 

Most of us were ready to leave Ashgabat after the one day layover. A few could have spent some more time exploring. But at 0815 we pulled out of the hotel towards the border. Its hard to imagine, but most were expecting a more normal civilisation across the mountains to our south.

A few quick snaps of monuments and more white marble buildings as we edged out of town in peak hour traffic (well at least there were a couple of other cars on the road) toward what is described as the “lower check point”. Through that point and it was a 30k drive up a 1500m sweeping climb into the mountains on a on the best road we had seen in weeks. There was no speed limit and no police in this zone. We had fun.

Like our entry onto Turkmenistan, the processing was efficient. Batyr our guide, helped with the few translation issues, but otherwise lazed about smoking. A cursory search of the cars and we were into Iran. Unlike other borders there was not a “no man’s land”. Out one gate and you are at the next.

Hesan, our Iranian guide was waiting and ready to direct what needed to be done next. All the girls had walked across earlier and were waiting in Immigration in their long pants, shirts past the bum and head scarves. I didn’t recognise them at first as the look was not flattering for most.

Iran is one of the few countries that accepts a Carnet. This is like a Passport for the car and speeds up processing. We just had to lodge these and wait while they processed the 8 cars, rather than the alternative of running between up to 6 desks to get various pieces of paper stamped.

We were through both borders and into Iran before mid day. By this time, the temperature was climbing through the mid 30’s despite the 1700m altitude.

We were off down the well made sweeping road through the dry, craggy mountains. There are a number of things that you notice immediately. Obviously the quality of the roads, the cars, the peoples dress and the housing. In many cases there are marked differences from one side of the barbed wire border fence to the other. This was one of them. Gone were all the Toyota Camry’s and replaced by a bunch of cars a make I am yet to determine (there are still a lot of the old Hilman Hunters which were made here until recent times and badged as a Pecan). The roads improved, and in the mountains the housing was mainly mud brick. Also the vast irrigation ditches that had accompanied us through the dry regions of China and Central Asia had disappeared and the wheat in the Iranian mountains was like Australia, a dry field crop, totally reliant on rain.

As we descended towards Mashhad the temperature continued to climb towards 40c.. As we joined the A22 at Quchan to Mashhad the traffic grew and the driver behaviour deteriorated. Personal space in a car is not a concept the Iranians seem to be familiar with. While there are lane markers, most seem to straddle them which becomes an issue if you try to stay within. They drive unbelievably close and have an unnerving tendency to cut you off. They were excited to see our convoy and were driving with both hands holding their phones and watching us with the obvious consequences of veering all over the road and mostly too close for comfort.

We went out for dinner at a large function centre. I think our guide may have thought we would have enjoyed it. It was crowded with families celebrating the end of their Ramadan day and being allowed to eat again at 8.15pm, which is deemed to be sunset. We were late getting there and most of the food on the buffet tables had been consumed.

We are also now in an enforced “dry spell”. There will be no beer until we reach Turkey. That may be a good thing as we are now starting to regain the weight that we lost through the change of diet in China. We also need to start looking for some alternatives to beef, chicken and lamb shaslik which has been the staple for the past week or so.