The Islamic Republic of Iran
In over 24 years of riding I thought I had encountered pretty much every conceivable road surface but Iran had a new one in store for us - the freshly oiled road!!
Iran has oil, lots of it. So much so that they practically give petrol away - it costs US$0.08 per litre, or to put it another way, to fill up our tank and jerry-cans costs $1.50. Ridiculous! Because its so cheap it appears to get put to uses that would not be considered elsewhere, in this case road repairs.
We had been blissfully riding along a perfect piece of tarmac, as all roads in Iran are, when we came across a man furiously waving a red flag and gesticulating for us to slow down. So we did. Luckily.
The road beyond him was black and glistening from the dividing strip across to a big open ditch on our right. I first thought it had been freshly tarred but it didnt quite look right nor did it smell of tar. As we rode onto this black surface I caught a waft of oil, but I still couldnt believe the road had been deliberately covered in oil. However when the bike started to drift sideways towards the ditch all disbelief was suspended.
I hurriedly dropped my feet down into outrigger mode and instructed Lisa to keep hers up out of the way and not to move and we shimmied up the road for about another 100 metres. Then a pedestrian stepped out in front of us and seemed surprised when we neither tried to swerve around him or slow down. On this surface it was not possible. Thats when I decided to give up on the town we were heading towards. A U-turn and another 100 metres of slithering had us heading in a new direction.
The welcome and friendliness shown towards us by almost everyone has been overwhelming. Whenever we park B.O.B. (buggered old bike) in a new town we are quickly surrounded by a large crowd welcoming us to their city and Iran, wanting to shake my hand and bask in the glow of our magnificence.
Twice now we have come up behind slow moving vehicles and when weve started to overtake an arm has been extended offering fruit. I slow down and Lisa grabs the proffered fruit before we ride off with a cheery wave. That however is not enough for our benefactors. Both times we have stopped several miles further up the road for one reason or another and these kind Iranian stop and pile Lisas lap high with more fruit.
We have been playing leapfrog with 2 other bikes heading in the same direction Marcel and Helen on an Africa Twin and Kenny on an Armstrong. A Kiwi, an Aussie and a Scotsman surely theres a joke in there somewhere. We knew they were coming our way after getting in touch through the Horizons Unlimited Bulletin Board and finally met up at Dogubayazit, Turkey, just shy of the Iranian border. They crossed over a day ahead of us in crappy weather, but 3 days later we arrived in Tabriz to find them staying in the same hotel. Three days after that we found ourselves staying at the same hotel as them again, this time in Hamedan.
While the roads in Iran may be excellent, the driving leaves a bit to be desired. Every other car approaching us starts flashing their headlights. This is generally to inform me that I have mine switched on (Iranian drivers would never consider wasting their headlights by burning them during the day), however sometimes it means the approaching vehicle is about to swerve out and overtake towards us and we should get out of their way. I furiously flash mine back at them, which sometimes dissuades them, but Ive often been forced to hit the brakes and make space for them.
The most common Iranian vehicle is a white Peykan an Iranian copy of the Hillman Hunter. There are also a lot of Land Rovers and a number of big old American cars. The towns and cities are the domain of the small bike mainly Honda CG125s. As alcohol is banned, there is no nightlife to speak of and petrol is almost free, Iranian men entertain themselves by cruising around town on their bikes every night. The streets are noisy, chaotic and a challenge to cross but it is entertaining to watch the antics these riders get up to.
Lisa has to wear a headscarf at all times, including under her helmet so that when we stop and take our helmets off her hair is covered. When we are off the bike and walking around she also wears a long black coat. She is finding this rather uncomfortable in the heat, but she has no choice woman must cover their hair and wear something that conceals the feminine shape. We had thought that she would have to wear a coat over the top of her riding jacket, however when we asked the police at the border we were told not to make life difficult for ourselves. So much to Lisas relief the coat only gets worn when we are not riding.
Now to keep those map watchers amongst you happy we crossed the border at Bazargan and spent a day of variable weather riding on the only shitty roads we have found in Iran searching for a beautiful old Armenian church. We eventually stayed in a dive at Maku after running out of options.
The next morning we rode back to the border to change our Turkish lira as the street rate we were offered at Maku was criminal (Iranian banks will not change Turkish lira just as Turkish banks wont change Iranian lire). From there we went to Tabriz and spent a day exploring the bazaar and enjoying the vibe.
From there we rode to Kandovan, a sort of mini Cappadocia where people live in houses carved into the rock, then onto Takht-e Soleiman where we camped. This is one of Irans premier archaeological sites but not so much to see for tourists as it is all in ruins and there is no information explaining it. After wandering around there we next spent the night at Hamedan and our next days ride brought us to our present destination, Kashan, a delightful little city with an interesting bazaar, a number of restored houses built by rich merchants, some beautiful mosques and delightful views across the adobe rooftops and wind-towers.
Iran is proving a wonderful friendly country, so different from the image portrayed by the western media and we are thoroughly enjoying travelling here.