The southern escape

Takab/Hamadan/Esfahan, from Indian autumn to freezing mountain passes

After a few days in Iran, we realized that the northern, mountainous part of Iran would soon become too cold to ride. So we needed to head South fast, away from the mountains and into the desert. Unfortunately, faith decided otherwise.

Overall, Iran has good roads and proper signs in Arabic Farsi as well as the Latin alphabet. Traffic in the cities can be a bit overwhelming, since car drivers use every small opening to maneuver, thereby ignoring lanes, pedestrian crossings and traffic rules in general. However, on the bigger roads traffic is fine, although cars and trucks do like to take a close look at us while overtaking. Since our GPS made a small mistake the day before, we decided to rely on the road signs for our route from Bukan via Shahin Dej to a historical site near Takab. After the first, fast kilometers the road rapidly deteriorates to a labyrinth of potholes, then changes to a small mountain road and then turns out to be the route to an army base… Since we do not like to turn around, we take the small, uphill gravel road to the left, hoping it will be a shortcut back to the main road..  which it isn’t. The scenery is stunning, Scottish-like mountains with rocky tops above greenish slopes and small villages of adobe houses. Unfortunately,  the gravel road we follow is not marked and splits up into several paths leading into different valleys. We have no clue where to go! Finally, after getting stuck in the mud twice and turning around two times, a jeep shows up. We ask for directions and they indicate we can follow them to the main road to Shahin Dej! It takes quite a bit of our off-road skills, but after four(!) hours we are back on the tarmac. The final challenge is to pass an altitude of 2600 meters, where our hands almost freeze off and we end up in snowy weather. We are really happy when the road descends again and our final destination is in sight: Home, sweet home, a dodgy hotel in Takab, where the squat toilet also functions as the shower drain.

Due to the weather we decide to skip the historical site and directly continue towards Arak the next day. Finally, the sun is shining brightly and the riding is easy… until I notice my bike feels funny. I slow down and the wobbly feeling gets worse: The first flat tyre! Arggh! Paul starts to dismount the rear tire, but one of the screws of the brake caliper is fastened too tightly for our tools.
Fortunately, in Iran aid is never far and two passing truck drivers help us out. When popping the tyre back in the rim they do, however, damage the inner tube again… A local guy offers to point us to the nearest tyre shop and Paul takes the wheel there, leaving me to guard over the bike in this deserted place. After more than one hour they return with a professionally fixed tyre, and we can finally continue. After sunset we arrive in Hamedan and we check in at the first hotel we encounter. It is a fancy place and we enjoy our clean, spacious room with kitchen. After watching a movie we fall asleep, dreaming about warm, sunny beaches, impenetrable tyres and perfect road signs.

Due to all these delays, the distance to Esfahan, the former Iranian capital, is still 500 km, but we decide to cover this lap in one, long day. Finally, good fortune is on our side and we manage to get there just before sunset. The landscape has changed from green to dusty, and from mountains to flat land. Luckily the temperature has risen as well. The first night we stay with Ali, an in-house architect living in his self-designed apartment building in Fengshui style. All of a sudden we are surrounded by luxury: Paul delightedly sips from a coke with ice, while I try out the relaxing massage chair.

The following morning Ali gives us a short tour of the nicely designed apartment building including the rooftop terrace. We take a short walk to look at the famous si-o-se-pol bridge over the Zayandeh river, which unfortunately is now dry due to water shortage in the region. We also have a taste of Gaz, the local candy, similar to nougat. At noon we move our gear one level down in the apartment building, where Saeideh and her mother welcome us into their home by serving a nice lunch of Iranian rice with chicken. Aided by Saeideh we shop for additional Iranian-proof clothing and buy ingredients for a ‘traditional’ Dutch lasagna, which we prepare for our hosts in the evening. It is really nice to get an insight into the life of Iranian women. We learn that as a woman in Iran you are not allowed to ride a motorbike or even a bicycle, and if your hair is visible underneath your scarf or you wear too much make-up you could be fined or even worse. We feel angry and sad that this is their everyday reality. Walking in the streets with our host, we experience this in real-life: Two women in black chadors walk up to us, I assume it must be friends, but they turn out to be ‘women police’ and tell our host she should cover-up.

Our last day in Esfahan, we visit the scenic Emam square including two magnificent mosques, the Ali Qapu palace and the nearby bazaar. Although this is suppose to be one of the highlights of Iran, we feel the mosques do not stand out that much from previous mosques we have seen and the palace is actually pretty small. We do enjoy walking around here, and especially appreciate a great coffee in a small cafe hidden in the bazaar. In the evening we return to the rooftop terrace for a party organized by Ali, where we share stories and laughs with a great group of Esfahanies. Ali’s wife serves a finger-licking Ash, the Iranian equivalent to Dutch pea soup, accompanied by sandwiches designed by their smart twelve year old daughter. The evening is concluded by the sound of drums produced by the Moharram pilgrims returning to the nearby mosque, which is to be a recurring event for the next 10 days.