6-12 August 2008

Semirom-Pataveh (120km)
Our map said it was 70km but we didn’t really mind: this was our favourite day of cycling to date. Just to the north of Pataveh the headtorches were put to use through 13 tunnels at the top of the mountains. Now wise to curious villagers, we picked up a few supplies in Pataveh and found a camping spot a few kilometres further on beside the river. We thought it was a remote, inaccessible, hidden site.

After a fully-clothed (including headscarf) dip in the river we were cooking our pasta when a trio of fishermen approached, casting their nets as they walked upstream. Our protests at eating their livelihood were ignored and before we knew it our pasta was put to the side and a fish was frying over our stove. As the mozzies came out (the first terrors since Bulgaria, and they made up for lost time biting through clothing) Mr Alikaram Haghashenas insisted that we stay at his house for the night. There was one less chicken but a pile of feathers in the yard the next morning as we had our second dinner prepared by his wife. After we ate we wished we hadn’t polished off quite so much – it is customary for the wife and children to eat after the men and guests, and they dragged the floorcloth of food into the kitchen where we could see them dining on our leftovers.

Propped up by the only cushions in the house, with the fan directed towards us, we were positioned in front of a continual audience of extended family and friends. Word had spread that Spectacles had arrived in town. Mr Alikaram Haghashenas’s father had 17 children by two wives and we are sure we met them all. Di was covered from head to toe but was given an additional long black skirt to wear. It seemed that life for this family is a very communal affair and any sense of privacy or personal space would be a foreign concept. The family of five sleep under a mosquito net on the front porch in the summer months so we joined them by putting our tent up next door. With the fan brought outside and directed into our tent we should have had a good night’s sleep but for the dog and the rooster, who seemed to be on holiday from a distant time zone.

Pataveh-Yasuj (45km)
A fairly industrial stretch of the route into the bustling county capital of Yasuj. 45km felt like a long ride and we crashed when we checked into our hotel.

Yasuj-Chel-e-Gar (71km)
When the phantom bugs started to attack the Stick we knew it was time for a rest (phantom bugs get under clothing and sting/bite in various locations but upon closer inspection do not exist). We pulled into a popular riverside area for a siesta and a snack until the intense heat of the day had subsided. The snack became a feast as we were quickly invited to join a family for their picnic banquet and some of the finest Iranian food we tasted. The ride from the picnic spot was not as flat as we’d been told, and after crossing another mountain pass we arrived, knackered, at Chel-e-Gar camping area.

Quickly surrounded by helpful campers we soon had our tent pitched on concrete and settled back into spectacle status with chai and an audience of 22 adults and seven children (Di did a quick headcount).

Chel-e-Gar-Shiraz (102km)
On our way out of the Zagros Mountains we passed through Sepidan, a ski resort which we think would be a great winter holiday destination (but be prepared for no beers after a day on the slopes but plenty of chai for lovers of hot drinks). Di joined the ladies’ queue at a bread window, the only woman not holding a chardor together in her teeth. It was mainly downhill to Shiraz. We passed many vineyards growing the shiraz variety of grape – although this is where shiraz originated no wine is produced in Iran for obvious reasons. We hit the ringroad and cycled into the city and found a cheap place to stay (Hotel Sa’adi).

Shiraz
The pinch and the grumble returned to the Roller for another set of uncontrollables, this time more ferocious than the first. Movements for one day were only to, from and over the squat toilet in the hotel. The next day his wellbeing improved but extreme regularity continued and he combined sightseeing with a tour of WCs throughout the city.

Known as the heartland of Persian culture, Shiraz has produced many poets and artists including Hafez and Sa’adi. We thought the bazaar was the best that we’d seen so far – the buildings are beautiful, it manages to be simultaneously bustling yet peaceful, and there is not the same pressure to buy as we have experienced elsewhere. We sampled paduleh, which is a very sweet shaved ice and fruit concoction, and dizzi, a hearty stew of meat and chickpeas.

Persepolis
The Roller’s health held up for a tour to the ancient city of Persepolis, which can be compared to the Pyramids of Giza, the Colosseum in Rome, Angkor Wat in Cambodia and Hundertwasser’s amenities in Kawakawa (en route to the Bay of Islands – see Far North District Council). Work started in 580BC by Darius the Great and continued for the next 150 years. It was burned to the ground during Alexander the Great’s plunder of 330BC. A sense of past granduer remains today.

It was a memorable and haunting place but rather than attempt to describe it we recommend that you check out the photos in our Iran gallery.

We then boarded a bus to Tehran, our final overnighter for Iran and perhaps for the next couple of months…