Crossing into Iran

Mount Ararat, as seen from Turkey

Woken at 5am by a dawn chorus of raucous mountaineers.  They're either just off or just back, on their own trip of a lifetime, perhaps.  In their own bubble they don't care who they wake.  I suspect we've behaved similarly at times, but hey - a little peace here please!

Leaving familiar lettering too...

Meh.  We give up trying to sleep, rise and enjoy breakfast on the restaurant balcony.  Sliced tomato, lots of cheese, some yogurt, jam, and ‘French’ bread.  It’s continental, but I miss my muesli and toast.  A guy needs touch stones of familiarity when everyday is filled with newness.  Still, this fine fare is better than what’s to come, I’m sure.  

We’ve been admiring the view of Mount Ararat – this morning it’s very clear and we can see the whole mountain with only a little cloud.  A picture postcard view and we all feel buoyed up.  JB makes sure he takes a 'TV advert' photo shot for his collection of poses.

The air is crisp as we ride out towards the border, and in tight formation we must have made a good scene for Tiffany.  [Place holder – video to come when upload speed adequate.]  Now that we don’t have the freedom to stop on a whim I DO want take a sidetrack off the main road, and ride up across the plain a few hundred meters.  It looks reasonably flat and dry, and I’d like to pull in at one of the scraggly settlements and share a cup of chai (Turkish tea).  It looks like the grass is greener over there, if you see what I mean.

The circus comes to town...

We reach our first 'real' border... and watch as the fixers do the hard work.  Although we have to queue a little bit and wait around for a lot, we basically let our new guide take all 15 passports and registration documents for processing en masse.  It's faintly familiar to me - I crossed into Morocco a few years ago - and I try to pay attention and learn.  But in truth there's not much for us to see or do.

Tim and I try to find our Aa'se from Elb-Ow.

We pass the time chatting, looking at maps or travel books or catnapping.  Finally, with ink-blue fingers from the identification requirements, we are though the final barrier.  It took about 7 hours all told, and to our surprise we’re all feeling a little bit beat.  Perhaps there was more nervous excitement than we let on.  For the Americans in our group, it must have been a huge relief: fail to get this visa and they'd each have to double back, then boat it from Azerbaijan across the Caspian!  This was one of the 'known unknowns' that our tour operator has been juggling.  It has become the hot topic for conversation, and the water passage was very much the worse option.  The ‘smelly boat’ has a reputation.

The ride into Iran is uneventful – we’re in formation again and following our guide’s car all the way.  We stop at the hotel in the shadow of an impressive cliff face, and look forward to a more exciting day’s riding tomorrow.  Iran, eh?  Few of us have been here at all, and for those who have it wasn't recently.

What to expect?  Iran has a mixed reputation, from what I can make out.   A friend, who is Iranian, has spoken of the generosity and kindness of his countrymen.  Yet, strict religious laws have immediately necessitated quite a few adjustments for the female members of our group – headscarves and dresses from now on - even in full biking gear!  The mix seems incongruous and I’m curious to get beyond these obvious first impressions. 

Oliver and Tiff go for a dip.   This was from a couple of days later, but you get the idea...

The dress code is part of the ‘experience’, and we’re interested to see whether modern-day Iran is otherwise more relaxed.  But that aside, it must be unpleasantly hot, itchy and fiddly and I really don’t envy them this part of the journey.  Tiffany has donned the full chador, a black head-to-toe effort, and gets full marks for effort. 

Marguerite loves her new look.

No real photos today, I’m afraid, as obviously at the border an open camera is just asking for trouble. 



I’m also sorry the internet is taking so long to upload my blogs; and as we're all trying to upload our respective material it does cause some muttering.   For my part, I'm a culprit what with all my video footage and blog photos.  I’ve been working hard to reduce the ‘size’ of photos, use Facebook instead, etc…  so as to improve this, but the speed of connection is fading the further east we go.  I'm starting to feel as though the power dims in a town as soon as I log on...

Got papers, got bikes, got that curiosity thing again