A good days cycling

My blog entries may be a little disjointed for a while, decent Internet access is proving to be hard to find, ability to upload photos more so.

I described doing my first hefty climb in Turkey a few weeks back. Since then I've gotten more and more used to mountains to the point where I'm starting to look forward to them. I've not got to the point where I'd go out of my way to find one but when one is on the map it's not something to be avoided

Yesterday I started the day in the town of Abarkuh, some 145km from my next
destination, Yazd, according to my dodgy map. On close scrutiny it seems that the days ride would be divided into three sections. The first would take me from an elevation of 1525m, 60km across a flat desert plane where the mountains began. The second an indeterminate distance up and over the mountains (guesstimated height of 2200 to 2500m) then the last section would drop me down to the city of Yazd, at an elevation of around 1250m. Time was a worry as dusk is around 5:30 here at the moment, and I started around 8:15 so the day would be a race against the clock. The start was not that promising, I had to stop to make minor mechanical adjustments against a dark sky that seemed to promise rain in the hours ahead.

The First Section, getting there
Despite the sky and minutes lost adjusting the bike things started well. A slight downwards slope and a tailwind meant the first 40km sailed by in a couple of hours. The downwards slope turned into a slight gentle rise slowing my speed but allowing me to start to gain some of the height for the mountains. I put on around 1300 feet over the last 20km although my speed dropped to around 10mph. I got to the last village before the mountain, grabbed a can of cola (ah, sugar!) and on to...

The Second Section, the Climb
Time to wax lyrical, sorry.
The road curves up and to my right as it makes it's way into the mountains. I've still a mild tail wind but the gradient is much higher, biting into my speed. As I ascend the drivers I meet are tooting their horns and waving, more so than usual. There's something about watching a fully loaded tourer going up a hill that seems to make people want to lend their support. And you know what? I appreciate it, even though it gets to be an effort to wave back.

It doesn't take too long for my muscles to start aching and odd pains to start shooting through my right calf. I need food and water throughout the climb and whilst the former is easy enough to do on the move the latter is more problematic. I'm well beyond the countries where energy or muesli bars are available and today I'm carrying lavash (thin flat unleavened bread) and feta. Good stuff but I'm going up a bloody mountain and taking a break is the last thing I want to do. If I stop for more than a couple of minutes the lactic acid build up in my muscles comes to the fore and it takes me maybe 10 minutes of slow painful cycling to regain my pace. So food is grabbed quickly maybe three times of the course of the two hour ascent, shoved in the mouth, another piece in hand and off again, all within a minute.

Muscles aching, encouraged by fellow road users I'm sloggin my way up the foothills. Initial speeds of 10mph drop to around 8mph as fatigue takes it toll and gradients increase. Then down to a steady 6, sometimes lower as I slowly wind my way up. As I get higher and it gets progressively harder I start to curse people. Myself, for being an idiot: why the hell am I doing this? Why am I putting myself through it? The road builders! Stupid bloody way to build a road, why not use that valley over there instead? No, truth to tell this seems to be a good road, uphill without no sudden 100 or 200 meter drops to be made up again, making me cycle the same altitude twice. Then I hit a series of undulations that drop me down a few tens of feet with a steep rise afterwards. Four or five hours of constant cycling with 50kg of bike and gear has taken its toll. Bleeding incompetent road builders! Why couldn't they level this!?

Cursing, sweating despite the falling temperature wondering why I do THIS **** I slowly ascend. I'm checking the altimeter, trying to work out when I'm going to top out. I find it's generally difficult to know when you've reached the high point of a pass until you actually do and today is no exception. The road twists and turns round the peaks. Round this bend and over that rise, surely that must be it... no, just another sodding rise! Why do I do this, I must be mad! The height on the altimeter rises slowly and steadily, while the temperature drops. 7500 feet... 12c... 7500 feet, hmmm, what's that in meters? Divide by 3.3, it's, er, damm, whatever! 7550, 7600 and I'm tyring to signal to oncoming trucks "is this it, is it downhill after this last push?" but it's hard to convey that in the time it takes for them to rush by beeping their horns and waving.

On and up and it's spotting with rain. Finally this must be it, must be. Yes! YES! I've topped out at 8411 feet, which must be, what, 2600 meters or thereabouts. Time to stop, refill the water bottles from one of the big bottles bungied to my rear rack. Pull the fleece on against the cold and rain, 7c now. More bread, cheese.

Now for the pay off! In the time it's taken to stop, refuel and set off again I've come from gruelling I'm-an-idiot to an endorphin and adrenalin fuelled high that you have to experience to believe as I start to fly down the other side. Stunning vistas open up as I hit 30 mph with ease, then 40, then 44... I'm not waving to the ongoing traffic any more, I'm punching the air with sheer body filling joy, I'm high as a kite in more ways than one! THIS is IT! THIS is the pay off for two hours of sheer hard bloody grind, for salt encrusted hair, shirt, trousers, for the pain, THIS is why I do it, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT! YES!YEAH!

The Third Section, the way down
The descent is on with some 80km (50 miles) to go. I know I'm going to make it well before dusk now. The scenery is stunning with mountains and canyons that wouldn't look out of place in a cowboy film. Except this is Iran. I gradually come down, taking time to pause, take photos and have photos taken of me though goodness knows I must look a right state. Finally I get to the outskirts of Yazd. I've covered the last fifty miles in a little over two and a half hours, cruising between 16 and 26 miles an hour aided by a tail wind and 1400 meters worth of stored kinetic energy. By the time I reach a hotel at 4pm, I've covered 99.86 miles according to my speedometer, not bad, not bad at all.

And relax...

Qazvin to Esfahan... the unthinkable happens

After getting down from Alamut by taxi I then cashed in the last of cycling cred by getting a bus to Esfahan. My visa is getting down to it's last week and as I'm not relying on it to be renewed and given that I want to see more of the country I saved time and miles by bussing it down to Esfahan. Getting the bus itself had it's moments. The first ticket I got was for a 15.15 bus that would get me into Esfahan for 22:30. Bit late to arrive really but then I found another bus company with a 13:00 departure which was far better. I braced myself for a "discussion" over a refund but there was no trouble at all. The guy who sold me the first ticket came with me, explained the bus I wanted and handed over the money. Easy!

Getting the bike actually on the bus wasn't that hard either. Front wheel off, saddle lowered and in it went. Then the driver charged me for it... he started at 150,000 Rial (about 9 pounds) which was two and half times the cost of the ticket! I got him down to 100,000. I say got him down, I mean he snatched it out of my hand and went off with a big grin on his face.

Esfahan is a nice city in the south of Iran. Got some very scenic areas and the usual mad Iranian traffic. Crossing the road is like a game of frogger... top tip, make sure there's an Iranian between you and the traffic. This generally means stand in the middle of a crowd as the traffic comes from every direction! Probably the main tourist focus is the Iman Square, pictured below.



I ended up spending longer than I thought I would in Esfahan, partly because there were a lot of other travellers there, and it was good to talk to them.

Alamut Valley... home of the assassins!

One thing about being in Iran is I'm doing a lot more touristing, because I really want to see more of this place than just a couple of cities and 2000 km of desert! Well, my route was taking me a mere 106 km from the site of the Alamut castle of Hassen-i-Sabbeh, founder of the Hashashin, or assassins as the word has become. Not just Alamut castle but 50 other assassin castles. A mere 100km or so? Looking at the map it seemed like a good morning of cycling over a mountain range then down and into the valley. Call it two days of exploring by bike, maybe get back for the third day. Great.

After a fairly late start, delayed by the usual tea and chat, I set off. And up the mountain I went. My map is fairly large scale and looking at it I judged the mountain to peak at around 6000 feet. Not the 7500 it proved to be. Still, no problem really, just a lot of hard work. The reward was a breath taking view of the valley and a descent down 4500 feet to the 3000 foot level. Then another steep, steep climb. By the time the sun was going down I'd done maybe 60 of those 106 kilometers. Hmm. Yes. He was called the Old Man of the Mountains wasn't he, not the Old Man of the Well Thought Out Gently Rising Cycle Path. I see where I went wrong...

The next day I was up and on the road by 7 AM. Took me four hours to make those 40 kilometers to a village by the name of Ghazor Kahn where the remains of Hassen-i-Sabbeh's castle stood. Again a lot of steep hills. I left my bike and had to walk up the last part. The castle is pretty destroyed and what's left is clad in scaffolding and corregated iron by the archeologists working there, but it's still amazing. This is the view from the top. You can see the village below and the last few kilometers of road.



Had a good old stooge around, a wonderfully atmospheric place. It struck me as a sort of cross between Tintagel in Cornwall and Sigiriya in Sri Lanka. Notice the wall I'm leaning on... trying not to lean too hard as there are some scary drops involved.



One thing I had to do was sit down and listen to Hawkwind a couple of times. Those of you who know what I'm talking about know what I'm talking about. Flashbacks to gigs I'd been to in the 80s. Ah, happy days. On a par to listening to Spinal Tap at Stone 'enge. One last photo from the castle.



After wandering around there for a couple of hours I went back down to the village and picked up a lovely little place to stay for around 3 Euros (I think). The next day though I did the unthinkable. It was going to take me two days to get back to Qazvin where I'd come from and time is running low. I arranged to put the bike in a savari (shared taxi) and thus ended the pure cycling. I had a bloody heaving heart then I can tell you. While I know it's the rational thing to do it just feels so wrong.

Anyway, song for the day... again, youtube is blocked here so I can't vouchsafe for it's quality.

Tabriz to Qazvin and a broken camera

Playing catch up with the blog here. I made it down from Tabriz to Qazvin in the four days. Mountains gave way to fertile plains but alas, I can't show any of this as my camera broke whilst taking a photo of an orchard. Slipped from my grasp and whilst the strap stopped it plummeting to its doom the iris got jarred and FUBARed! Still, imagine all those mountain types areas I posted so many pictures of in Turkey gradually giving way to autumnal looking orchards then broad valleys which soon begin to look quite Middle Eastern albeit with more greenery than you might expect if you'd not been in this part of the world before.

Reached Qazvin after an heroic mornings cycling which saw me put 80 miles on the clock before 1 in the afternoon. Turning down the endless tea and food invites helped it has to be said. Oh, and one invitation to drink alcohol at 10AM. Little bit early that. So, I hit Qazvin ready to get my camera repaired or replaced in the afternoon. Not realizing that it was a public holiday and everywhere was shut. Ah. Bugger.

So it was early the next morning before I found a camera repair place nearby. Too early in fact and I had to wait for a bit until the right person turned up. He took the camera off me, told me it was a problem with the iris (which was good, until then I thought it was a problem with the light sensor) and said to come back in an hour. Which I did, only to be told that it was not fixable and I should get it sorted when I got back to Englistan. Damn, bugger and blast. Spent the rest of the day comparing the options available for me to get a replacement and finally settled on the Canon SX200. Expensive at 300 Euros but a good replacement. I went and changed the money, then returned to the camera shop, which was in the same arcade as the repair place. As I did so one of the chaps from the repair place waved me back into the shop... Mr Talib had arrived, the wizard of camera repairers and would be able to fix me camera! I was to give the camera to him, sit down and wait which I duly did.

In the end it took three hours for Mr Talib to strip my camera down and rebuild the iris by hand. In Europe I've no doubt it would've taken a couple of weeks of sending it to a lab and During this time I took a series of photos using my phone entitled "Your warranty is now well and truly voided" and was plied with copious amounts of tea, bread, cucumbers, tomatos and feta. When I find a way to transfer them I'll upload them to the webs. In the meantime here's the chaps after they fixed my camera.

Iran (to Trabiz)

First of all, as this cross posts to Facebook, I can let you all know I have fallen into a slight communications black hole. Been told that all phone links to the UK are blocked and can't access Facebook at the moment although that might be a server problem. [Update... it isn't, it's filtered). Blogger and my email works though so (although strangely enough my email doesn't work through yahoo.co.uk) not all communications are down as yet! And I have temporary Facebook access but don't shout about it.

Iran... well what can I say? Crossed the border three days ago which was an interesting experience. Border formalities were quite quick and a bit muddled, leaving me somewhat bemused until I got to chat to a pair of French tourists the next day. More on that later.

First three days here have been good fun. People are hospitable to point where I'm finding it difficult to make the miles I need given my limited visa. Got around 1900km to do in 20 days to get to Shiraz which doesn't give me much sight seeing time. Visa extensions are meant to be fairly easy to get but I really don't want to rely on them so I'm contemplating getting a train at some point to cut a few hundred kilometers off. Yean, I know, boooo to Bill and all that. Still, I'd rather see more places if I can rather than just cycle and spend two days touristing. If I get the visa extension then I'll get the miles in.

Hospitable people... oh my word yes. This nutter matched speed with me for a chat on the road. Can't say too much mind as I then got the camera out and took the photo.



I'm constantly awash with tea and invitations to food abound. Took one invite to tea up and ended up in an impromptu party. This is me and mine host rocking out to Rachid Taha on my iPod speakers.


Reached Trabiz today and was guided in by a couple of students on bikes. Nice guys, wanted me to stay with them but I was feeling too old to stay with some 18 year Iranian students and politely said no. Yes, I realise how ungrateful I'm being etcetera but sometimes a bit of time alone is good. Besides, come on, you all remember student houses, right?

Had one slight problem, a piece has fallen off of my pump rendering it useless. Bit of a worry that as I'm using Presta valued inner tubes rather than Schrader (the ones used on cars). Until about an hour ago all I'd seen here have been Schrader valves on bikes but now I've seen someone with the right valve I know I can a replacement pump. Phew.

Farewell to Turkey

Well, I've been here for a while but tomorrow I do the last 35km to the border and then into Iran, somewhere I'm really looking forward to.

Turkey has been fun I have to say. It's odd, when I first visited here some 16 years ago on my way to Syria it still had something of an exotic mystique to it. Over the ınterveninv years it has lost some of that due to mass European tourism and indeed the changes in charcter were visible when I went down to Antalya to meet Helen. However I've got to say that away from the mass tourism Turkey is still a land of surprises and wonderful hospitable people.

As I've got into the North East the journey has been one of continued awe at the landscape and people. Interesting to be in a Kurdish region where the Jandarma (paramilitary police who refer to themselves as Army and who am I to argue with that if they drive AFVs at times?) are in bases that look like American firebases in Vietnam circa 1967 and people make a V for Victory sign as a salute that is Kurdish nationalist in extremis.

I've also developed a taste for mountainous cycling (800 meter of vertical climb? Sure, then a stop for a breakfast!) and a desire to do more at some later stage (the Pamir Highway in a year or two perhaps).

I've not been eaten by dogs although I have been chased by then. I have had kids throw stones at me, yes but only one kid at a time and quite frankly they can sod off, the hospitlity has been great! If anyone reading this gets the chance then do come here for the cycling!

Last leg of Turkey...

Just skooting along the last bit stretch of Turkey now. I'm currently in a small provincial capital by the name of Ağri, one days ride from Doğübazit, final stop before Iran. The last couple of days of riding have been good, including the highest pass so far (I think...) at 2290 meters. Mountain passes and big valleys with the weather a lot warmer than of late. Wonderful. It'll be downhill for a few weeks now I think which is a shame, I'm getting a real taste for mountains!



Anyway, the area I'm in is very much a Kurdish region, where people have been very hospitable. Apart from a couple of times where I've had kids in villages throw stones at me. First time, one kid said 'Hello!' while his pudgy freind decided to bend down and grab a handful of pebbles to throw one at me as I rode pass. Pebbles for Pete's sake! Take a lcuky shot to do anything with them. Second time a pre-teen kid just hurled a rock at me as I passed a village. Both times merited me getting my dog bashing stick out and waving it round my head as I turned the bike back in their direction, causing the desired result of the kids scappering. Job done.

Other than that it's been a very warm welcome with some great hotels...

Picking up the Iranian visa in Erzurum

Well, at long last I got my Iranian visa stamped in my passport. Here's the drill, as of september 2009, on how to does this in Erzurum. If you're European (particularly if you're British) do not attempt this without first obtaining a Ministry of Foreign Affairs (MFA) approval number through a good agency such as TouranAzmin. If you're American just don't bother.

First you need to get to the consulate. Personally, for me a day off the bike is a rest day, time for the cycling muscles to have a break. So when the chap in the hotel pointed out the dolmus (local buses) stop, gave me a map where he marked the consulate location and told me to get the dolmus towards Yenisehir (even drawing to route on the map) I was all good to go! It was nice and early, time to go do it. I hoped on a minibus with a Yenisehir sign on it and off we went. Of course, it transpires that not every bus to Yenisehir follows the same route... at first we did follow what was drawn on the map but then, around the university we divirged. OK I thought, just going to pick some students up. Nope. After 10 minutes I communicated wıth the driver through the medium of pointing at the map and shrugging questioningly. He indicated I should wait and that we would get there. He then offered me some of his breakfast roll.

We got to the point where he indicated I should get off and get the ski lift up to the mountain resort. Ah... OK, so slight crossed wires soon sorted out when we realised the mistake (I'd pointed at my circled building, which was next to the Ski resort 5km sign). So back until the bus turned off the route. The driver wouldn't let me pay and indicated I needed to get another bus. Or so I thought. By this point I'd decided to just hop in a taxi which I duly did. He then did a u-turn, went 100 meters up the road and opened the door...

So, the consulate at last! If you're doing this yourself look out for the small Iranian flag and police man outside an otherwise unremarkable building. You then have to get in. Press the buzzer and wait to speak to somene to get the door open. Press it again thirty seconds later. And again at fifteen second intervals. Patience is your friend here. When someone does answer (listen up though, it's quiet and the traffic is heavy!) say 'visa' and wait to be buzzed into the reception room. At this point it helps to have a good book with you as you wait on your own for a few minutes. Eventually a guy came downsairs and we had a brief conversation, him seated and me having to squat down as the opening in the glass barrier is at waist height. He took my MFA number and jotted it down. He then told me that everyone was in a meeting (ah, explains the waiting!) and to come back in an hour. Oh-kay.

I walked down the road for a bit looking for somewhere to get a (non-alcoholic) drink and ended up wondering into the center of town... the consulate is about a 20 minute so you might want to contemplate that course of action. I was back again on the hour and repeated the buzzer performance. Then the wait until someone came down (ah, so the meeting DİDN'T explain the wait). I was then told my MFA number was OK, I'd been granted a 20 day visa (great, I'd only applied for a 14 day one) and I was given an applicaton form to be filled in and returned with two passport photos and a receipt from the TC Tickaret bank showing I'd paid the visa fee into the account details given on a slip of paper. The fee? 95 euros...Oh what a joy to be English!

So, down to the bank and I made it just before it closed for lunch. As a point of information here they'll happily except Turkish Lira if you're trying to conserve your stock of Euros (remember, cash machines will not work for you in Iran, you need to take cash in euros, US$ or sterling for your whole stay). Then it was time for a lunch of corba (soup). There are a lot of good soup places here where you can fill up on tasty corba and bread up for 3TL. They even give you a plate with some olives and pickles as a side dish.

After lunch, back to the consulate for 2:30 and into waiting mode again. On squatting down and presenting all my documents the chap behind the counter said that I should come back the next morning to get the visa. That's fine with me I said, I'm planning on staying another day here anyway. Then he began to worry that I'd need my passport for the hotel. No, no, I'd already paid, it was fine, they could keep it overnight. No he decided, I needed it so I would have it. Come back at five.

Fine, what with the waiting I'd done that meant an hour and a half to fill before making my fourth trip of the day to the embassy. Just time to drink some tea and do some shopping. When I turned up again, bang on five, the policeman outside told me the place was shut and I should come back tomorrow. He even pointed out the sign giving the office hours which did indeed say Open 08:30 - 12:30, 14:30 - 16:30 (Saturday to Thursday, shut Friday and Sunday). I told him no, I was expected a five and rang the bell. And waited. And rang, and...

Eventually I was let in and presented with my passport complete with visa stamp! I was so happy I was pracitcally skipping in the aır and clicking my heals together as I walked back down to town one... last... time...