28th August 2014      28-37℃      549km
Rasht – Tabriz

With a long day ahead, I started early, following the GPS north west towards Tabriz, things seemed on track against the map for the first hour, until I realised the GPS was acting up and was sending me in the wrong direction entirely. Via Azerbaijan!

I stopped to ask directions from two young guys I saw walking on the street in a small village, and they pointed me in the general direction, but didn’t seem too confident themselves.
I still had the visor up to get some air in the helmet, when a bumblebee hit me squarely in the left eye at about 60km/h.
I don’t know if I closed my eye before impact, but the pain was unbelievable. I pulled over with my right eye open.
My entire eyeball and socket was throbbing with pain, but there didn’t seem to be anything in my eye, it was just as thought someone had flicked my eyeball. I sat there for five minutes while tears followed out of one eye, until the throbbing subsided and I could see again. It appears no permanent damage.

I rode on over the 2600M mountains, treeless, grassless hills, and the occasional village. I stopped in one small village for a drink and made a friend with an old guy who spoke a few words of English. He wanted me to stay for lunch, but with 450km ahead of me, I had to press on.

When I got tired, I stopped at a roadside bbq place and napped under their shaded canopy for 20 minutes. When I bought a drink, the guy in the store asked me “which country are you from?” To which I answered “Australia”. The look I received was one that read “you don’t have long to live!” And he asked again, incredulous “Israel!!?”
I said “No! kangaroo! Australia!”. Hopping around like a crazy roo.
This was the third time in Iran that my pronunciation of Australia had been mistaken for Israel, and on each occasion the look has been exactly the same. “Are you crazy!?”
I’m not sure if it is my pronunciation, or if Israel is just top of mind here. There are plenty of posters, street advertising, showing cartoon images of Netanyahu holding a gun to Iranians.

Back on the bike, I came over a crest to an absolute scene of carnage. A bus and a car had collided. The car was pretty much disintergrated. The police had arrived and were trying to clean up. Two bodies laid on the side of the road, their shoes removed.
While I didn’t know anything of these people, it upset me to see this, as they were lifted into body bags by the police.
Such a waste, just for trying to overtake. Driving standards are so dangerous in Iran.

I continued more cautiously than usual.

About 100km further on, I passed a sign that said fuel ahead in 63km. I knew I was running low, a result of getting lost this morning, but a check of the gauge indicated I had only 50km of fuel to empty. This was going to be a problem.
I rode until the bike was empty, coasting down hills. When 0km appeared, I switched off the ignition and rolled to a stop by the side of the road. I had 600ml of petrol in my camp stove bottle, and poured that into the tank, knowing it would take me less than 15km. I spilt at least 80ml fumbling with the bottle as I poured.
Starting the engine again, I rode gingerly, hoped the petrol station was down hill, and the walk to get fuel wasn’t going to be too distant. It was 37℃ and windy.
As I came over another crest, the station came into view. I would make it today, but only by the skin of my teeth.
I refilled the tank, thanked the guys at the station, and rode on.

I was flying along, in the inside lane of the three lane freeway, doing 118kmh (the limit is 120kmh) when I saw a cop step out onto the road. He was pointing and waving his baton at me, it was clear. But at that speed, by the time I’d seen him I was almost next to him. I hit the brakes and looked across the lanes to see if it was safe to pull over. I got across 2 lanes, and looked back, he was hundreds of metres behind me now. I figured, well he couldn’t read the filthy mud covered number plate anyway, and decided to open the throttle and powered away from the police…. For the third time on this trip and first time running from the police in Iran. I questioned my wisdom in doing this, as only a few kilometers later, I reached a toll booth. In Iran, there are police stationed at each toll station, and I thought they might come to find me.

A car pulled up next to me at the toll gates, they had been driving in the lane next to me when the cop waved me down. The whole family were laughing and smiling at me, presumably for running from the cop!

I arrived in the city of Tabriz, after riding 450km, at 6pm. Completely tired, and stopped at the first hotel I saw. They had a room for the right price, but no parking. Although they quickly agreed to let me park my bike in the lobby after 10pm. Happy days!

Tabriz is a great city, it’s got a good vibe about it. Modern, great shops and cafes, pedestrian streets filled with people. It appears somewhat more liberal here, I spotted couples holding hands discreetly in the street, even two guys very carefully hiding that they were holding hands.
Probably somewhat risky here, but they obviously felt cautiously comfortable to do so.

Tonight is my second last night in Iran, and I’ll be sorry to have to leave, as I feel I’ve only scratched the surface on a fascinating and beautiful country with marvellous, hospitable people.

27th August 2014       34℃       368km (120km off-road)
Qazvin – Rasht

A nice early start after a good night’s rest, I headed back east for 120km, thought the Alborz valley, to visit the Castles of the Assassins. On reaching the castle, I found a very steep and hot climb on foot to reach the remains of the 12th century castle.
I decided that I wanted to see the Caspian Sea, since I was relatively close, but choose to ride the shortest route, over the top of the mountains, on a very scenic but hair-raising steep dirt trail, that eventually peaked at 3300M where it was cool and the air was clear.

Down the other side of the mountains, and approaching the Caspian, the mountains now covered in greenery, and the air sticky humid. So despite it being a few degrees cooler than the desert, it was much more uncomfortable, sweating buckets.
I stopped in the seaside town of Ramsar, for a photo of the sea, and was approached by a guy who asked if I needed a villa, with a girl. Later I passed a car that had been pulled over and searched, the police had found, and confiscated, a bottle of vodka, and the occupants of the car were trying to get it back.
I thought to myself, obviously not all of Iran conforms to the religious stereotype projected.

I reached Rasht at nearly 6pm, a long day and I hadn’t covered anywhere near the number of kilometers I needed to. I have two days to reach the Turkish border, 1000km away. So it looks like I’m in for two very long days, due to my overeagerness to see as much of Iran in a short time.

Tonight walking around Rasht, I tasted the local speciality, walnut cakes. Delicious. The friendly guys at the store then stuffed me with walnut/chocolate cookies, washed down with some type of fruit juice with rose water.

Rasht is a nice old town, and I really enjoy how the streets come alive at dusk in Iran, once it starts to cool down, everyone is out on the streets, walking, chatting, eating. It’s a good atmosphere.

26th August 2014      39℃       338km
Kashan – Qazvin

The excellent guesthouse I stayed in last night was a historic house, made of mud bricks, with a lovely central courtyard where I enjoyed breakfast before packing the bike and riding off the roof where the hotel had suggested I park at night.

I stopped a few minutes later to buy a bottle of water, where there were three old blokes in the store, obviously all mates who hang out and chat at the store. They tried to get me to take 6×1.5L bottles of water, clearly impossible on the bike. Once we’d agreed I would take only one, they suggested I take the half a lamb that was hanging in the window. I declined that too, to much laughter. We all shook hands, and one of the guys asked me what I thought of Iran. I told him, and he said “Ok! But don’t visit America!”

Back on the road, I made good time on the fast roads, avoiding the usual erratic drivers.

After a quick stop for beef shashlik lunch and hundreds of handshakes and photos with everyone in the restaurant, I reached Qazvin, parked up at the hotel and explored the city on foot. The beautiful Jame mosque and bazaar.