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Delicious Mint Tea made by Bahar
The light was fading fast as we rolled into the city of Karaj. Enveloped by the sprawl of Tehran, Karaj does little to distinguish itself from the metropolis mess rising from the desert. Beaten and battered by the relentless headwinds we were well behind schedule, managing a megre 108km before darkness.
Exhausted we were glad to finally reach what we thought was the city. As we rode below an underpass the route into town wasn’t to prove easy. As rush hour peaked and people rushed to get home we struggled to find our way. A strange junction had another overpass rise from the middle of the road, meaning we’d have to cross 3 lanes of traffic to mount it. Being downhill we had hurtled past the turning, traffic all around it was virtually impossible to communicate above the chaos of horns and shouting. A few minutes later we noticed our mistake and unable to find a way to correct it we were left with one option: turn back and cycle in to 3 lanes of onciming traffic – without a hard shoulder. Now this is a manuevre that 3 months ago, on the calm streets of Europe, I would never have considered for a second. But battle hardened from the manic driving of the Caucasus and beyond it now seemed perfectly acceptable.
I led the charge, with Xavier in tow, and with some frantic arm waving and shouting we U-turned into the mess. All 3 lanes were choked with traffic, which at points relented to gridlock. Allowing us a chance to shuffle further upstream. Eventually the traffic eased, and cars raced toward us at alarming speed. We spotted the junction ahead and, again leaving our European driving sensibilities behind, slowly eased ourselves across the road. Cars sped past on both sides as we were effectively cycling down the middle lane of a very busy motorway – IN THE WRONG DIRECTION!
Somehow we made it to the junction and pulled another U-turn to join the stationary traffic on the bridge. We hustled and bustled our way through the traffic and rolled down the otherside. Hearts still racing and adreneline still pumping.
It was now all but dark and although surrounded by buildings we couldn’t find a hotel or anything resembling a city centre. “Another 4k” a guy shouted from his taxi. We continued on but after another 4km, were told the same again “Keep going straight, another 4km!” Arghhh, would this city never end!
We had been keen to find a hotel that night, we had enjoyed the hospitality of the people we had met, but it had meant long evenings retelling the same stories of our travels again and again and tonight, for once we wanted some space.
We approached a huge roundabout and unclear which way to go stopped bang in the middle. As we shouted to each other the streams of cars had to manuvre around us and a few tooted in our direction. I was about to turn around and wave one of the beepers around us before I noticed he was stopping on the side of the road and beckoning us over.
A tall man got out of an old white car and kindly shook our hands. “how can i help you guys, where are you going?” He said in perfect English. We explained that we were looking for a hotel.
“Hotels are very expensive here. I have a climbing shop in town, perhaps you could stay there.” he offered. “I can either take you you to the shop, find you a hotel or if you prefer you can stay at my house. Its up to you.” Xavier and I looked at each other. Although we had planned to stay in a hotel Mohsen seemed such a kind and generous guy and we needed a way out of the mess of the city.
We took Mohsen up on his offer of going back to his house. “It’s a little uphill” he warned. As we got back on the bikes, freeing some traffic we’d been holding up, we cycled off the roundabout and sought about following the white car. As the incline steepened Xavier raced alongside and grabbed the car window for a tow up the hill. Being more stubbron I refused the offer and instead took up a position behind the car getting into the slipstream, all of a sudden i found some new energy and was racing uphill at 35kmh! Mohsen put his warning lights on which seemed ample indication for other cars whilst crawling uphill in the middle of another busy highway with two crazy cyclists buzzing around the car. We hit more traffic and Mohsen got stuck, we weaved our bikes ahead of the gridlock, before remembering we didn’t know the way so just stood in the middle of the road whilst waiting.
Eventually we turned on to a smaller road and into a residential area. Mohsen waved us towards a driveway and we wheeled in.
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Mohsen and Bahar's home
I’m not sure what Mohsen’s wife, Bahar, was thinking as he returned from work with two smelly cyclists but she pretended not to notice the smell and kindly welcomed us into their home. An hour later and we were showered, fed and sampling a fine home-brewed wine. Mohsen and Bahar had a beautiful home full of all the mod-cons and things that preconceptions may have had us thinking didn’t exist in Iran (as well as a little alcohol!).
Bahar was a photographer and showed us some incredible pictures she was due to display in a gallery in Tabriz. Tabriz had recently been struck by a large earthquake and she was hoping her pictures of the aftermath would raise awareness for the cause her and her father were leading, helping the people left homeless get back on their feet. Bahar and her father then had to leave to make it back to Tabriz that night, they wished us well for the trip and we thanked them for the kind hospitality and amzing food and drinks we had been served.
We chatted into the evening with Moshen, who explained his love of climbing and the great places in Iran to climb. We discussed travel and dream destinations and the difficulties of travelling with an Iranian passport. Mohsen was also a cyclist and he and Bahar had toured in Iran and Turkey. Their last trip was tragically bought to an abupt end when Mohsen was hit on the bike by a truck in Samsum, a city I had cycled through a month earlier. Mohsen broke his back in the accident and had spent a long time in hospitale and at home recovering. Seemingly over the worst of it now Mohsen had returned to climbing but it was a stark reminder of the risk cycling in countries with such poor driving standards.
On our second glass of wine, our only alcohol in Iran so far, Mohsen warned about the dangers of buying alcohol on the black market – as apparently the government arrange batches to be poisioned and sold alongside! – which is why home brew is better he explained. The wine was delicious and not even a hint of poision, so i had to agree!
Although the company was great and the drinks and stories flowing I was grateful when Mohsen, noticing our tiredness, offered us some bedding and the couch to sleep for the night.
In the morning we woke early to find our breakfast already waiting on the table. We set off early to allow Mohsen to get to work, but not before he guided us out of the city, driving god-knows how far out of his way to do so!
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Mohsen showing me the way
It was another great experience that came about by just seeing where things led us and yet another example of the endless hospitality and kindess we had experiences in Iran. Hopefully we will get to climb or cycle with Mohsen somewhere in the world!