Farewell Iran

It was fitting that we would end our time in Iran being hosted. We had experienced so much kindness and hospitality in the country that we were sometimes overwhelmed. Our last few days in Tehran were spent with the Rouhi family, friends of Yann's father. We had been playing phone tag with them since our arrival in Iran and were really looking forward to spending time with Iranian-Canadians. In our two days with Fatima and her children Mohammad Reza, Mahia and Sania we were made to feel truly welcome and at home (and we were extremely well fed).

We did lots of relaxing and conversing at the Rouhi's, but we did squeeze in a little bit of sight-seeing before leaving Tehran. Mohammad spent a morning touring us around the Niavaran Palace Complex, residence of the last Iranian Shah and the imperial family. The complex is set in beautiful grounds in Northern Tehran, a perfect escape from the city that surrounds it. The grounds are now public space and the buildings are now a museum. Filled with the finest Persian carpets, famous artwork the many of the palace halls and living areas have been preserved as they were left. One of the buildings even has a retractable roof. The palace is a great example of the excess and opulence of the former shahs. It surprised us that this was not more emphasized, there is little historic information on display and the palace items seem to be displayed for admiration rather than anything more propagandist (we felt a great opportunity was being missed!).   The slightly dated main building of the Niavaran Palace Complex

  Yann and Mohammad posing outside Niavaran Palace after a lovely morning visit

For our last dinner in Iran we had a picnic in the mountains north of Tehran, also fitting. Throughout our travels in the country we had admired the Iranians love of picnicking, seeing them set up along the highway the minute a tiny bit of shade presented itself, we saw full picnics on the shoulder of national highways and in parking lots, the roof racks of every car seemed to primarily be transporting picnicking supplies!   Our last dinner in Tehran, we'll be sad to leave all of our new friends

We left Tehran in the morning, picking up our bicycles at the hotel where we had left them for a week, then embarking on the 55km ride to the airport. Our flight was at 5am the next morning, but we were planning on packing everything, including our bicycles at the airport, so we left early in case we ran into any trouble. The ride to the airport was fairly straightforward, we only had to cycle the wrong way up an expressway ramp once. We rode ride into the airport terminal and got in line at the security checkpoint with our fully loaded bicycles, still wearing our helmets and security vests. Everything, including the bikes went into the x-ray machine!

We had about 12 hours to kill at the airport, many of these were spent rearranging our baggage once we found out that we were expensively over the weight limit for our flight. For the cyclists out there: be very careful flying with Emirates! There is no special fee for the bicycle, it is just added to your weight limit, and excess baggage rates are 30USD/kg. With our two bicycles we were 15kg overweight! We had misread the carriage rules when we bought the ticket (if you are wondering why we just realised this when we got to the airport). With enough panicked internet searching, we realised we could pre-purchase extra baggage saving us 30% or so, but we still felt like big dummies for not having figured this out ahead of time . Our second airport task was to get our bicycles boxed-up at the packaging office. We had been told on the phone that we would have “custom boxes” made on the spot. Well, the custom boxes consisted of strapping pieces of cardboard to the bike in what seemed to be a pretty random manner. There was no way in hell these “boxes” were going to survive a flight. The only way to save them was to use the stupid cellophane luggage wrapping and wrap the crap out of them. And even then they looked pretty bad.   Mastering the art of travelling light at IKIA (Imam Khomeini International Airport)

A day later, we were sitting in the back of a taxi, admiring the Hong Kong night skyline, our cellophane-wrapped bicycles strapped into the trunk. We felt like we had just landed on another planet.

Stats for Tehran:

Days of cycling: 0.5
Kilometres cycled: 52

Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop  Expedition Support

On the Beaten Track in Iran

We stayed four days in Tehran trying to sort out onward travel plans. Our arrival in Tehran coincided with the U.S. push to engage in war with Syria and subsequent opposition from Russia and Iran. We monitored the news as much as possible, hoping that a U.S. invasion was not inevitable. We already had doubts in our hearts about our desire to continue onwards through Central Asia and along with our paranoia about full-blown war in the region we decided that we would fly out of Tehran. Getting the elusive 90-day Chinese visa (or even a 30-day visa) seemed to be next to impossible, so we knew that we would have to break our journey with a flight from Kyrgyzstan. We decided we didn't want to ride in the desert anymore, it was way too hard on our morale. For whatever reason we were pretty down on cycling and we needed a change of scenery and/or climate. We booked a flight from Tehran to Hong Kong, the only place (other than Canada) where we thought we could get the Chinese visa we were looking for. This left us a little bit more than a week to see as much of Iran as possible.

Tehran is not exactly packed with tourist attractions. But the southern bazaar district, where we were staying, was busy and bustling and actually lots of fun to explore. Like in Tabriz, the bazaar was active and uninterested in catering to foreign tourists. Except for the carpet merchants, who were just waiting to take our money (and did). 

  Tehran has some great revolutionary murals

  Getting lost in the Tehran Bazaar

We checked out Golestan Palace complex, this year added to the UNESCO World Heritage List. Honestly it is a really weird sight, although 400 years old, much of the complex was reconstructed in the 1950s, on the orders of Reza Shah, who evidently had terrible taste.

  Mirror tiles are a key feature of the Golestan Palace Complex

Visiting the US Den of Espionage (site of the former American Embassy) was high on our Tehran to-do list. We visited on a Friday, which turned out to be perfect because we found the streets around the former embassy to be deserted. So despite warnings that photography could be met with suspicions and/or hostility, we were able to snap away at the famous murals that surround the building without any trouble (not that we lingered very long).   The first sight that greets you upon exiting the Taleqani Metro Station under the US Den of Espionage

After our four days in Tehran, we boarded a train to the desert city of Yazd where we checked into our nicest (and by no means the most expensive) accommodation in Iran, the Silk Road Hotel. Housed in an old building centred around a huge courtyard in the city's historic district, it has plenty of lounging areas, a beautifully decorated air-conditioned room and a kitchen serving delicious local dishes. What a treat!

Old Yazd basically shuts down for the hottest part of the day (10-4pm!), things slowly start moving in the evening, but the pace of life seemed to be far from that of frenzied Tehran. The architecture of the old city is completely adapted to desert life and is ingenious, especially the wind catchers that naturally cool and ventilate the homes. We explored the alleys of Old Yazd in a few hours, rarely meeting any other tourists, despite the city's popularity.

  Wind-catchers adorn many of the buildings in the old city

  Back streets of the old city in Yazd

Morning at the Jameh Mosque in Yazd

For our second day in Yazd we decided to join the popular tour to nearby desert villages. The tour brought us first to the village of Karanaq, sight of an abandoned palace complex, then to Chak Chak, one of Zoroastrianism's most important pilgrimage sights, then to the desert city of Meybod, home to an ancient citadel and caravansarai. The most impressive of the three sights was Karanaq, which just seems to sit beautifully untouched and undeveloped in the middle of the desert (apparently the villagers believe the complex to be haunted). Chak Chak is nothing more than a small cave temple in the middle of nowhere, interesting only because of its cultural and religious significance (and its isolation) but not because of any particularly attractiveness. Meybod's sights were also worthwhile, in particular the massive ancient refrigerator. Although we try to avoid package tours, getting to these three sights in the same day would have proven near impossible with public transportation. We ended up with great travel companions and an enthusiastic guide who spoke perfect English so we were very pleased.

  The abandoned Karanaq palace complex

The immense ancient yakhchal (ice box) in Meybod

From Yazd we bused to Esfahan, probably Iran's most visited city. It is the former capital of the Persian Empire and home to the country's largest concentration of historic buildings: palaces, mosques, medressas, cathedrals, covered bridges. The list of things to do in the city is intimidating. Truthfully, Esfahan was a pretty big disappointment for us. It was the only place in Iran where we felt we were being ripped off. The taxis were overpriced, the hotel where we had a reservation had no room for us unless we took a triple room and paid for the extra bed, we were constantly being approached by “friendly” locals who were actually trying to bring us to their shop (but it was Iran after all, our bus fares were paid twice by strangers, as well as our dinner one evening, so we shouldn't get too complainy!).

The sights themselves were also a let-down, in particular the Imam Mosque, it is reputed to have some of the most exquisite tile-work in Iran, but we couldn't tell you. The entire courtyard of the mosque was covered with canvas awnings blocking the best views of the mosque. There was absolutely no attempt to showcase the monument that hundreds of tourists were streaming in to see (and paying admission for).

  The disappointing views of the Imam Mosque

It wasn't all bad - we arrived at the Jameh Mosque 20 minutes before opening and the caretakers let us in early, so we had the whole place to ourselves

  We also stumbled upon the Mausoleum of Harun Vilayet and it's great courtyard

The covered bridges were lovely, but with no water in the river were a little bit less spectacular than they could have been. We could see the potential though. Our whole visit of the city seemed like we were just checking items of a list of things-to-see without really having any desire to do the seeing. We were probably just too tired to get into it.

  Siosepol Bridge and a dry Zayandeh River

To end our Esfahan joys, we booked bus tickets back to Tehran, making sure to ask that we were not in the last seats, only to be ushered into the last seats. The compromise was to give us the second last seats.

Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop  Expedition Support

Rasht, Masouleh, then a Bus to Tehran

In Rasht, we had our host Javid waiting for us. We didn't have his address, but with our cell phone we managed to find him by handing the phone to random people several times. Each of our unsuspecting helpers got us a little bit closer to Javid after receiving his directions.

We had a great three days with Javid, who is our age and shares an apartment in the city centre with two friends. He is freelance English teaching until his Canadian permanent residency is approved (his brother and family live in Winnipeg). In a few days we got a glimpse at the frustratingly slow process that aspiring immigrants have to go through before getting the chance to start building their life abroad. He has no way of knowing when his approval will come through but his bags are packed. We have our fingers crossed that by the time we are home in the spring he will be there too.

  With our kind and generous host Javid

Iranians have dinner very late by our standards (maybe because of summer Ramadan), but Javid set a new record for late eating. On our first night, the third step in the rice-cooking process began at about midnight (had we known there were three steps we would have gotten him moving a little bit earlier). The process involved at least one hour of soaking the rice, a first cooking then a second cooking where oil is added and the rice is cooked until it forms a crispy golden brown crust on the bottom and sides of the pan. Bread or potatoes are added to the bottom of the pan to help form the crispy rice cake. Our meals were fantastic but we couldn't help teasing Javid who was so slow and meticulous about his food preparation.

Picking out fish at the Rasht night market

Javid's perfect rice!

To escape the humidity of Rasht (which was hovering around the 100% mark), we took a bus to the ancient (and popular) stepped village of Masouleh. Javid considered joining us after his English classes but it rained for most of the afternoon so we agreed to meet up again the next day. After spending the afternoon (pre-rain) sleeping on the hillside away from the crowds, we rented a room in a local house with a view over the village from an adorable old man who bargained pretty hard (he said we were getting a better price because we were foreigners - in Iran this was maybe believable). In the evening we watched the crowds disappear and the rain stop. It was one of the most relaxing days we'd had in a long time. In the morning we bought fresh flat bread, feta cheese and instant coffee and enjoyed the peace of the village before the crowds began to arrive again.

  It rained all afternoon in Masouleh but it was still extremely pleasant

  The small but lively Masouleh Bazaar

  Masouleh, population 500, is quiet in the morning before the tourists begin arriving

From Rasht we had decided that we would head to Tehran by bus. With half of our visa time expired, we still had to get to Tehran to arrange Uzbek and Turkmen visas, then come back to the coast and continue cycling. We thought of leaving our bicycles in Rasht, but decided that if the visa process was delayed we might not have enough time to meet all the visa deadlines so we would have to be prepared to get on another bus.

Getting our bikes on the bus was quite an ordeal. We were greeted by an enthusiastic attendant at the bus station who helped us buy tickets and load our bicycles into the baggage compartment. Anywhere else we would have been reluctant to accept assistance without expecting a scam, but our guard down was in Iran. After we purchased our tickets and got onto the bus, the friendly attendant marched on and demanded that we pay him a fee for the bicycles, 5 times the price of a ticket. Initially we thought we had misunderstood, but when we realised what was going on, we got off the bus, unloaded all our stuff and got a refund for our tickets. Much arguing ensued, we even phoned Javid for assistance who argued on our behalf. The attendant was particularly aggressive but he was no match for me (I was of course my usual calm and collected self). Strangely, the bus didn't want to seem to leave without us. The attendant really wanted this lucrative opportunity and for some reason had the ability to hold up the bus. Eventually another employee came up and offered a bicycle fee of only 2 times the price of a ticket, we didn't know if he had any authority to make the offer but we agreed and reloaded our bikes. We had held up a bus full of passengers for almost 30 minutes. The employee who offered us the discount turned out to be the bus driver, who himself was also being held up by the attendant! What a strange arrangement.

  With the unscrupulous bus attendant, loading our bikes onto the bus for the first time

Tehran is a monstrous, sprawling city and we arrived at the Azadi bus station 10km from the city centre. After our unfortunate bus experience we decided that the simplest way to get to our hotel was to cycle and despite the crisscrossing expressways and insane traffic, we managed the ride with relative ease. The dense traffic actually worked to our advantage because for most of the ride cars were stopped bumper-to-bumper. We followed the hundreds of motorcycles and weaved passed cars using the outer lane. After successfully tackling the cycling nightmare that is Tehran, we were pretty confident we could handle anything.
  Yann, snapped in brief quiet moment of our Tehran cycling experience

  Azadi Gate, symbol of Tehran

Stats for Tehran:

Days of cycling: 0.5
Kilometres cycled: 13
Metres climbed: 20

Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop Expedition Support
 

Along the Caspian Coast

Three Days in Tabriz

We were looking forward to Tabriz, we had heard that the weather was cool (er) and we had two full days of rest planned there. By chance we rode into the city on Friday, so there was virtually no traffic (things really shut down on Fridays) as we made our way to the very centre of Tabriz. On the road from Marand we saw several Iranian cyclists, in full spandex cycling gear, which was a nice surprise. We heard later that Tabriz has quite a road-cycling scene.

Our hotel (the Hotel Azerbayjan) was impersonal but it came with air-conditioning, a western-style bathroom and a free breakfast so the fact that they had exceedingly disinterested staff was easily overlooked. There were 4 other foreign tourists staying in the hotel, (they turned out to be the only foreigners we would see for the next 2 weeks).

Tabriz's main attraction is its bazaar, the largest covered bazaar in the world, for centuries it was one of the most important trade centres in Asia. It is a hub of activity and still a truly working bazaar, with absolutely nothing (save for a few carpet vendors) geared towards foreign tourists. The Tabriz Bazaar is exactly how we pictured a Middle Eastern market and we loved it.   The covered halls of the Tabriz Bazaar

Outside the Tabriz Bazaar

Tabriz's second biggest attraction is the Blue Mosque, which is a bit of a misnomer. It used to be blue.   The blue part of the Blue Mosque

After sight-seeing, we used our newly purchased Iranian cell phone to contact Hamed, a former professional road cyclist who had agreed to meet up with us and show us around the city. Hamed came to pick us up at our hotel from where we drove to El-Goli Park (definitely the number one tourist destination for Iranians). We had traditional Tabrizi food, tasted pickled garlic for the first time and had tea overlooking the park. Hamed suggested that we might want to consider altering our planned route to Tehran. Our route had us avoiding climbing over the Alborz Mountains, but we would be continuing to cycle through desert with very few towns along the way. Our friends John and Imran had been robbed by fake police officers a few weeks earlier along this route, so we were eager to hear suggestions of alternate routes. The new route would have us cut towards the Caspian Sea, following the coast. The appeal of trees and sea was enough to overcome our hesitation at having to climb over a mountain range twice.

To the Caspian Coast

Our first few days of riding from Tabriz were pretty dreary, but not difficult. More desert scenery with not much in the way of suitable shady spots to take breaks. Traffic on the road continued to be largely made up of Iranian holidayers, who often stopped to photograph us, share food or ask us if we needed assistance. We spent our first two nights in road-side hotels above restaurants, which we were happy to find. Although we would have been perfectly fine sleeping in city parks where many of the Iranian tourists spend the night (we just wouldn't have gotten any sleep). As one young Iranian put it “we aren't crazy enough to spend money on a hotel”.   The scenery for most of the ride from Tabriz to Gilan Province

  Our road-side hotel in Bostanabad

On our third day of riding we ended up in the largish city of Ardebil where shortly after arriving we were offered accommodation by two different young locals. After turning down the first offer, we felt that the second offer must have been a sign that we weren't meant to sleep in the hotel. We were actually standing in front of one debating whether it was too expensive when we were spotted. We agreed to follow Bahman, an avid couch-surfer who spoke good English. He led us to his family's home a few minutes from the city centre, where we had our own room. None of his family members seemed surprised by our presence. The only problem with being hosted is that we felt obliged to socialize and to stay up late, even if we had a big day of cycling and a very early morning ahead of us. Being the only woman I was able to go to bed early, but Yann was forced to stay up with the many men who had showed up to hang out (probably specifically with him). This began a string of hosting that didn't end until we arrived to Tehran!

We had contacted a host, Azim, who lived near Astara (the Caspian town at the border with Azerbaijan). Using Warm Showers (the cyclists' version of Couchsurfing) we had connected with lots of potential hosts along the coast and Azim was the first who had responded to our request. From Ardebil we had a 110km ride to get to his place. The ride from Ardebil included a 1500m descent from the desert into the green, forested province of Gilan. While this would normally increase our average speed, it took us hours to get down the side of the mountain. The area is extremely popular with local tourists and the traffic is completely backed along the road in both directions. Vendors line the road selling fresh nuts and berries, flagging down all passing vehicles. We were literally mobbed by the hundreds of Iranian tourists picnicking or driving along the highway. By the time we got to Astara we had posed for dozens of photos and had been stopped along the road dozens of times. We had been offered food, drink, phone numbers, e-mails.   One of many photo stops along the descent to Astara

  A particularly chaotic photo stop along the same descent

With 30km left to Azim's place we thought we were finally free to start pedalling but right as we were leaving the city we were stopped by a journalist who wanted to do a piece on us. He ended up interviewing and filming us for over an hour, getting shots of us riding along the highway in different spots. It didn't help that he didn't speak a word of English. Who knows what got lost in translation in that interview!   TV interview in Astara

Once the interview was over we were stopped by 3 different English teachers in each of the small villages that we passed (they would phone each other to say that we heading their way). Right before we finally pulled into Azim's place, we were stopped by the sweetest family from Southern Iran who were so concerned about us, they asked if we needed money!

More Iranian Hospitality

We were very grateful to finally enter the peaceful home with views of the sea and the surrounding kiwi groves. Azim and his family have hosted hundreds of tourists and have an entire floor dedicated to guests. We were given lots of privacy and had our own bathroom and kitchen. Nonetheless, Azim's wife cooked us most our meals! What a relax!   With Azim and his three boys at the Caspian Sea

From Azim's we cycled to our next host in the town of Talesh, only 60km away. We were hosted by Sam and his wife Zahra, a lovely young couple who showered us with delicious meals and even bought our groceries for the next day of cycling. The big surprise however, was that Sam and Zahra run a private English academy and we were invited to speak to the students. Classes run from 6-9pm every night in three one-hour sessions. We were rotated in 10-15 minute periods between each of the classes. It was exhausting but the students were adorable and hilarious. We happened to be there on a girl's night (boys and girls alternate days). Each class had a few outspoken girls who really kept the conversations going. My favourite comment of the night was “thank you being clean, a lot of tourists who come to visit are very dirty”. I thought about how stinky and filthy we would have been if we hadn't had the chance to go to Sam's ahead of time and shower (and borrow clothes!).   Visiting English classes in the coastal city of Talesh

After classes, we were greeted by Azim and his family who had been invited to dine with us at Sam and Zahra's. We had a huge meal featuring roasted chicken stuffed with walnuts and garlic and various other treats. Sam and Azim had spoken multiple times on the phone (due to their various hosting obligations) but this was the first time they had actually met in person! Sam lives in a house right next to his parents and multiple siblings. Every night the children and grandchildren head to Sam's parents to share tea together. Once Azim and his family had left we were invited to take part in the evening ritual and meet Sam's parents and some of his siblings, a highlight of our visit.   Dinner at Sam and Zahra's with Azim and his family

The next morning Zahra sent us off with a bag full of left-overs and groceries for the road. We had a picnic in a pine tree grove along the highway. We rode to Rasht, where we had yet another host waiting for us! The previous night at dinner, when Azim had heard that we didn't have a host yet he immediately phone his friend Javid in Rasht to arrange our stay!    Leaving Sam and Zahra's place 

Stats for Tabriz to Rasht:

Days of cycling: 6
Days of rest: 3
Kilometres cycled: 484
Metres climbed: 2664
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 1

Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop Expedition Support
 

Welcome to Iran

We left the Armenian border town of Agarak early in the morning not knowing how smoothly immigration procedures would be. We had been told that the border operated 24 hours a day but when we arrived the immigration hall was empty and there were people sleeping outside with their bags. We poked around the buildings and saw two sleeping employees and not much else. Shortly after settling down on the sidewalk to wait for opening time a group of Iranians showed up, woke up the employees and got things moving. The border is in fact open 24 hours a day but only if you can be forceful enough to get someone to stamp you out of Armenia.

On the Iranian side things were up and running and everything went fairly smoothly, although Yann was brought into a separate room and asked for money “for photocopies”. He managed to get away with 1000 AMD (a few dollars) but was a bit freaked out. The border guard also stamped him in and out of Iran which we didn't notice until later, thank goodness because we would have worried about it the whole time.

We had a pretty straightforward day of riding planned, about 70km along the Iranian-Armenian border, following the Aras River to the town of Jolfa, location of a border crossing linking Iran to the Azerbaijani enclave of Nakhchivan. The area is sensitive due to the proximity with the Armenia-Azerbaijan border and there are guard towers along the highway every few kilometres. We had read not to take any pictures, so we have nothing to show of the imposing mountain scenery along the river valley.

There was considerable traffic along the road, mainly Iranians on holiday (you can tell by the packed car with suitcases on the roof rack) heading to and from Armenia or Azerbaijan. Almost every car slowed down to wave, ask us where we were from, take a video or just yell out “Welcome to Iran!”. On several occasions there were backed up cars along the highway from cars driving next to us for so long. It was hilarious although sometimes a little bit nerve wracking as people aren't exactly used to driving with cyclists.

In Jolfa, having some difficulty finding a hotel, we were spotted by a local English teacher and her father who pulled over to help us. We checked into a room above a busy local restaurant which we would never have found without their help. In the restaurant we ate next to a Tehrani family who gave us their contact information in case we needed any help while we were in Iran. The employee at the front desk wanted to take us out for a picnic in the evening (we were way too tired to do anything but lie in our air-conditioned room).   Jasmine and her father who helped us find a hotel in Jolfa

Our next destination was Marand, a city halfway between Jolfa and Tabriz. Having spoken to other cyclists who had travelled the same route we had been told to “expect a welcome from Akbar in Marand”. It wasn't clear how or when this was going to happen but we headed off not thinking too much about it.There wasn't very much climbing on either of our first two days in Iran, but the riding was still difficult due to the heat and the lack of services on the roadside. In the 70km from the Armenian border to Jolfa we passed one small town. On our ride to Marand, there was a similar arid, hot, emptiness which can be a little bit disconcerting when you're cycling. We were able to find food and water at a small mosque on the side of the road, but only after 40km of pretty lonely riding.   The road between Jolfa and Marand

  The scenery isn't overly varied

About 20km from Marand a car pulled up in front of us and out popped a small Iranian man who walked up to us, handed us two bananas and exclaimed “Welcome to Iran, I am Akbar”. He told us he'd meet us in Marand and hopped back into his car. About an hour later, on the outskirts of the city, we spotted Akbar cycling towards us. He had for us two orange drinks, a bottle of ice water and a photo album. His album was full of photos of the cyclists that he has greeted in the last 17 months (most holding their orange drinks). Among the photos, we spotted our friends Imran and Jon (UK) and Andy and Rosy (Switzerland). Akbar also handed us a carefully hand-written page with contacts all over Iran, part of a cyclist support network established by a group of Iranians. Akbar has taken it upon himself to greet every single cyclist that comes through Marand. We were only the 2nd and 3rd Canadians he has had welcomed but the 186th and 187th cyclists!   The kind and amazing Akbar! Greeter of cyclists

We rode through town with Akbar leading the way, it seemed like everyone in Marand knew him. People smiled and waved like we were on parade. Many taxi drivers have Akbar's number, so when they spot a cyclist they can summon him for an official greeting. Amazing! We were escorted right to our hotel door. In the evening Akbar came to pick us up (in his car) for a tour of the city. He and a friend treated us to kebabs and corn on the cob and tried to get us to come to a wedding. We felt bad turning down an invitation and going back to the hotel so early (it wasn't actually early, but Iranians seem to stay up really late) but we were seriously tired. Smiling, positive Akbar didn't seem to mind at all and dropped us off a the hotel, making sure that the staff knew to feed us dinner. We felt overwhelmed by his kindness.

But alas! It didn't stop there. On our way to Tabriz the next morning, Akbar pulled up with a picnic breakfast ready for us. And, knowing the route so well, he had planned it so that we would eat at the top of the day's only major climb. We had a breakfast or Iranian flatbread, cheese, jams, helva and tea before our downhill ride to Tabriz. What a welcome to Iran!   Akbar found us on the road to bring us breakfast

Stats for Agarak to Tabriz:

Days of cycling: 3
Days of rest: 0
Kilometres cycled: 216
Metres climbed: 2285
Cycle-tourists crossed on the road: 0

Partially sponsored by Mountain Equipment Coop Expedition Support