.... and then we are off again towards Turkey using our own private freeway!! The new freeway goes to Tabiz, as you approach there is a HUGE sign telling everyone to take the next junction off.. but I dont want to do that. I have played Whacky Races enough for now, the road looks good beyond the sign, flat smooth and black, so we go for it... What we find is a perfectly good three lane highway with No Traffic, at all.. for the best part of 100 km we fly along... some bits are all built and ready to go, white lines armaco the works, even signs, some bits are just the base layer of tarmac, some bits still have some workers putting up signs and laying down lines..

This is fun!!! and no tolls, not that we have ever paid tolls on Iranian freeways yet One mile into our first ever freeway we see a big sign saying No Bikes.. oops we think.. in the next miles we see our first Iranian bike using the road, going the wrong way along the hard shoulder!! Followed in the next dozens miles or so by all his Iranian brothers doing the same thing .. in the end we also follow the Iranian way and are to be found going the wrong way down streets, along the pavements and cutting across the fields to get to where we need to be.. As we slowly approach the toll both, as far away from the parked police car as we can I seriously think we are in trouble.. Not a bit of it, the man in the window leans out and says "Excuse me sir what is your nation?" We then have the first of many a conversation trying to assure them we are English (Inglistan) and not Grmany (Allmand).. there is absolutely no suggestion of paying the toll - the road is all ours for freeEsphahan

It takes so many squiggles to say 'Welcome??

Without doubt our favourite city of the whole trip - its such a chilled laid back place, We stay in the Ghetto, the backpackers ghetto, aka Amirkabir Hotel - which is just fine with us.. After this long on the road together we have totally run out of conversation - remember we are men, we get a lot smaller ration of words to use every day then women any way.. personally I find that it takes me at least an hour after we have stopped to remember to talk, and to be able to recall all that we have seen that day..when you are on a bike you cant talk to each other! We have a few interesting hand signals for the essentials, ie PPT stops (Petrols, P and Tea)

We rename this place the No Visa Hotel.. one night seated around the tables in the courtyard where no fewer then 12 persons (of all nationalities) in the same boat as us.. no visa for Pakistan, and no obvious way to get one... if you go back to Ankara to get one (if your own embassy will give you a letter of introduction that is) you cant get another Iran visa to come back and cross the border.. This was the only time when we envied Back Packers.. well not the 12 hour bus journies and the early starts, but the ability to get on a plane and fly over the problem.. Me I have 300 kgs of hand baggage if I want to try this!!

Esphan is all about bridges and mosques, beautifully laid out squares and gardens - it is justifiably the centre of the Iranian Tourist industry - we end up staying 8 days here in all .. it where we met Kierstin and Michael, two good Bavarian persons, each travelling with thier own BMW - sensible peeps

Kierstin rode on Pupsi (which means in German one who farts! I kid you not)

das auf den des Rechtes "farts" auch

Pupsi had a very badly leaking oil seal on the gearbox output shaft, Chris's GS had a mildy leaking one, same problem, same bike - Chris being the master technicial had the home made special tools and a replacement seal with him- Kierstin just kept buying lots of oil to top it up with! So we have a technical day.. Out with the gearbok on Chris's, on with the seal and all back together, two hours.. For Pupsi we tread more carefully, outwith the gearbox, make sure it is only the seal, then go off around town with th old one fron Chris's bike to get a replacement... There is no BMW dealer network in Iran, but that dont matter, this is a standard size metric seal, none of your special size got to import it Japanese stuff here.. after much miming in and around all the car workshop places Michael and I are directed to a shop that sells water pumps.. and who sells bearings and seals for waterpumps too.. guess what he has on a top shelf, and it fits perfectly too... Click here for an image of the lads at work.. and no one fell into the pit either!!

Apart from the bridges and the mosques (click on the words to get images) Esphahan will always hold a special place in my heart, it is only in Iran that you get Carrot Jam for breakfast... and it tastes just like carrots and sugar click here ... and here too for images

Tehran
So our third time back here.. as usual back to Mo and his bro's place, as I chained Rodders to his lamp post I gave him a hug and re assured him that it is only for one night this time!.. We at last did some sightseeing!! Shock Horror!! The Old American Embassy is rather fun...

You will always find a difference between the people of a country and its government.. the ordinary Iranian does not think about "American Imperialism" from one day to the next.. Basically all people in this world want to be well fed and happy.. Despite politics World Peace Is Enevitable...Bet you did not know that a soap box that big could be carried on a bike!!

image

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The Long Road
From here on in our enthusiasm wanes some what.. its the same road as before.. we are forced to break a Rule of Adventuring.. 'never take the same road twice' From Tehran to the Turkish border is all familiar. apart form one bit.. we do a right turn and head off up into the Alboss Mountains.. destination The Castle of the Assasins.. which, yes you have guesses is a large pile of rock!!! But with a great interesting story.. it was here, many many years ago that a religious cult was formed, they gained power and influence by killing political and religious leaders of the day! They kidnapped healthy young men by dopping them up on Hasshish and transporting therm to this big castle way up in the mountains.. They revived to find them selves in lush gardens with very attentive young maidens convinced they had been transported to paradise (I am convinced, can I go please!) The price of remaining here is to return to 'Earth' once in a while and kill a few people... So it was a good pile of rock up in the hills.. When you travel on a bike it is not just the interaction with people, nor the sights that you see that count.. it the getting there.. This road was magnificent, 2 hours of tights switchbacks and turns, up, down and occasionaly sideways if you did not miss the gravelbars across the road from the water wash

WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

.... and then we are off again towards Turkey using our own private freeway!! The new freeway goes to Tabiz, as you approach there is a HUGE sign telling everyone to take the next junction off.. but I dont want to do that. I have played Whacky Races enough for now, the road looks good beyond the sign, flat smooth and black, so we go for it... What we find is a perfectly good three lane highway with No Traffic, at all.. for the best part of 100 km we fly along... some bits are all built and ready to go, white lines armaco the works, even signs, some bits are just the base layer of tarmac, some bits still have some workers putting up signs and laying downlines..

This is fun!!! and no tolls, not that we have ever paid tolls on Iranian freeways yet
One mile into our first ever freeway we see a big sign saying No Bikes.. oops we think.. the next miles we see our first Iranian bike using the road, going the wrong way along the hard shoulder!! Followed in the next dozens miles or so by all his Iranian brothers doing the same thing .. in the end we also follow the Iranian way and are to be found going the wrong way down streets, along the pavements and cutting across the fields to get to where we need to be.. As we slowly approach to toll both, as far away from the parked police car as we can I seriously think we are in trouble.. Not a bit of it, the man in the window leans out and says "Excuse me sir what is your nations?" We then have the first of many a conversation trying to assure them we are English (Inglistan) and not Grmany (Allmand).. there is absolutely no suggestion of paying the toll the road is all ours for free..

But it eventually came to an end, we get to meet the builders of the next section, Ho Hum, back we go a mile till we see the old highway across the fields, down the dirt track and its back to the Whacky races for a short while

That night we rough camp.. we think we are invisible to prying eyes, it turns out the dirt track is the main and only road to that small village over there!!

Two lads go past on an iranian moped, a few minutes later they are back with a handfull of cucumber for us, I give them a chocolate bar each! In the morning an old old guys cruises paston his tractor, moments later he walks back an in mime invites us to his place for breakfast - we decline a spolitely as we can, we need to get going - so off he goeas and re appears a moment later with a flask of tea for us.. we all side on the tarp and sip away, share a few biscuits and try to communicate.. Only In Iran, I am sure of it, if they would ever let me go back I certainly would.. The night before I am laying on the airmatress (did that shatter your illusion of a rough tough traveller then?!) reading a book on outdoor leadership, enjoying the warmth of the engine.. let me quote this to you "Leadership is the capacity to move others towards goals shared with you, with a competancy and a focus they woudl not achieve on thier own"

.... and then it happened, the unthinkable, the unbelievable, on the way to the Turkish border we met another Brit on a bike Mr Richard Tyner was the man, doing what we set out to do, go to India, but yes he did have his Paki visa already.. We have a good long chat, its so good to have the same cultural points of reference and to instinctively know what slang words you can use, no longer did we need to talk with our hands!! We exchanged a fist full of Tuirkish Lira for a hand full of Iranian Rials, and here I must sincerely appologise to you Richard, at that moment I genuinely belived it was 14,000,000 Lira to the Dollar when in fact it is 1,400,000.. If you are at the next HU meeting I will repay the difference, your 6 Dollars was in fact worth60 Dollars...Sorry

Across the Turkish border and back to the infamous Murrat Camping for two nights and many beers - if you ever go say hello to Memet the guy that runs the place, the first ever Kurdish man to summit on Everest and a local hero.. he walks up Mount Arrat most casualy for fun!! Almost as soon as you are across you get great views of Arrat, from all around town there are great views of Mount Arrat

. and now its cold, not just becasue we are at 1800 metres, its because we are moving more and more North to where it is meant to be cold at this time of the year! We chopp up the tarp and make muffs for the handlebars, the coming days will bring rain and snow, dry hands are essential

Murrat Camping is THE place to party in Eastern Turkey, of an evening the bar is heaving with local guys all getting plastered before driving off back down the mountain side to town, the local bands plays all the local Kurdish favourites and the men dance.. which is a surprising simularity to the Time Warp forn the Rocky Horror!