

The night bus was comfortable but warm, and with very frequent stops at police checkpoints. I think we were pulled over at every stop, probably because we the foreigners were on board as other busses would breeze past. Never mind, we made it to Zahedan in the end.
Arriving in Zahedan at 5am we decided to stay in the city for the day, find a hotel room and make sure we were ready for the border crossing into Pakistan. We had heard all sorts of horror stories about Taftan, the border town on the Pakistan side. Money being hard to get, the bus tickets being scalped all sorts of stuff making us a bit nervous about crossing the border.
From Zahedan the border is another 80km but though we hadn’t crossed any border yet we were definitely in a new region. We were in Balochistan, a region that extends over the border of Iran and Pakistan and Afghanistan. A lot of the people here wore the Shalwar-Chemise, sported big moustaches and had darker skin than the Iranians we had seen before.
After much searching we at last found a cheap hotel willing to take us, a lot of the accommodation won’t accept foreign guests. They won’t straight up tell you, just direct you to another place and they’ll send you to another place until there’s nowhere left.
We found somewhere eventually and crashed, resting after the night bus. We spent the rest of the day getting ready to cross the border, checking the bus times the exchange rate all that good stuff.
The next day the hotel wouldn’t let us leave until the police arrived to escort us. This was the start of our troubles. We had hoped to get going early, cross the border in the morning and be out of Taftan before dark. The police were late. When they arrived, they led us on a series of seemingly random excursions across town, from the station to a roundabout, back to the station, back to the roundabout. We just wanted to get to the bus station where we could hire a truck to take us to the border.
The police really were clueless. After wasting about two and a half hours they finally listed to us and took us to the bus station, or so we thought, they thought we had said post station and took us to the post office.
This prompteda bit of irate gesturing from us which eventually got them to understand what we wanted, and took us to a roundabout where all the taxis hung out. There was one van there that could take all the bikes, driven by a portly old haji (one who has made the pilgrimage to Mecca, you can tell by the white hat). He didn’t really want to drive us but the police strong armed him and our money convinced him and soon we were loaded up and driving out of the city.
Or so we thought, we actually drove to another police station where we waited for an hour for whatever reason until the escort was ready to drive with us out of the city. This was a bit annoying but we waited and eventually got going, it was still bore noon, the border was open until 4.
Finally we started driving, we left the city got on the main road to Pakistan and stopped at the first police checkpoint. The escort pulled in and parked and said we had to wait. So we waited. One hour, two hours, there hours…we had no idea what was going on. Nobody could communicate, we called up people we had met throughout the trip in Iran to translate for us but the connection was so bad we could barely get through.
At about two o’clock the escort and the haji driver started saying what we thought meant go back to Zahedan and try tomorrow. There was no way we could do that, the last day we could enter Pakistan tomorrow. Luckily the military escort from the border we had been waiting all this time (four hours in the end) for decided to show up right then. We piled the bikes in their van as the haji driver wasn’t coming with us past the checkpoint (don’t know what we paid him for then) and we were finally, at last, mercifully on the road to Pakistan.
We didn’t make it to the border in the end though. We had to stop a couple more times at other checkpoints along the way. At the end, outside the final checkpoint the guards told us the border was now closed and to go to Mirjaveh. We argued with them to let us camp in their grounds first and then to let us camp outside their grounds but nothing, we had to go stay at the hotel in Mirjaveh.
Mirjaveh is a small town near the border. We were hoping the hotel would let us camp in the garden but of course not, they wanted the money and after arguing for a bit we had to pay for a room. At this stage we were hungry and tired and we didn’t have much spirit left.
On account of the flat tyres two days ago and the light theft debacle yesterday we had a lot of ground to cover today. 130km or around that, if we wanted to get to Kerman tonight.
In the morning the riding was hard since we had a headwind the whole time. It seems to get particularly windy in the desert quite frequently. Although there wasn’t much in the way of scenery to distract us we did find something to break up the desert riding.
Camels! We’ve seen camels before, but not roaming around the desert on their own. It’s one of those ‘we cycled here’ moments, seeing them just existing in their natural habitat. Finn has been talking about getting a photo with a camel pretty much since we left so we pulled off the road and chased the camels around for a bit trying to photo them.
In addition to lunch, what made Kabootarkan special was that the town was famous for its ice cream. The main road was lined with ice cream shops, it was all soft serve rose water flavoured ice cream and refreshing as anything. Not only that, but while waiting in Kabootarkan the wind shifted and we now had a tailwind blowing us to Kerman! Everything was looking up.
We flew along after lunch with the wind at our backs. Still had about 70 km to cover, but with the wind and the ground flat it wouldn’t be long before we reached the city. It always seems that a tailwind puts whatever scenery your riding through in a better light, and what to me before was a boring, featureless waste seemed now beautiful expanse of rock and sand, almost another planet, glowing in the evening sun.
It was dark by the time we arrived at Kerman. We were heading straight for the bus station with no plans to stay in the city that long. Missing the turn off for the station took us a bit further towards the centre than we would have liked but it worked out in the end. We stopped outside a bike shop to have a look in, I still needed a new chain.
Low and behold, not only did they stock Shimano components but a whole array of other bike parts and accessories. Turns out it was the main Shimano reseller in Iran here in Kerman which we learned after speaking to the owner Nima for some time. I got my chain and Richie a new front rack and panniers and we were away.
The bike shop was on the north side of Shariati Street, between the big roundabout and the interchange with Ferdowsi Boulevard, it’s called Puegot and Raleigh Cycles.
So we had to make it to Kerman as quickly as possible because the validity of our Pakistan visa was running out. The last day the visa would be valid for entry was the 4th of February. Once we got to Zahedan we should be ok because we could get to the border in a couple of bourse on a bus.
But we were still hundreds of kilometres from Zahaden and so were going to take a bus from Kerman to Zahedan too. We weren’t running out of time running out of time at an alarming rate, but we had to be aware of it.
Not much to say about the cycling today, Infact I don’t think I took a photo most of the day.
But something interesting did happen today. At lunch in a town called Ahmad Abad we met another cyclist! It was an older French guy coming the opposite direction. He had been riding for a couple of months around the Arabian peninsula and had just gone over the Persian gulf into Iran a couple of weeks ago. We joined him on his side of the road for lunch, sharing stories and talking about bike touring, it was great it had been ages since we had met a cyclists.
‘Who are those guys?’ We asked our interpreter.
‘Oh, they are the secret police.’
I’m not entirely sure what secret police means, if it’s KGB or Mafia but either way they got the light back. Some kid had pulled it off, as we had guessed and they had bought him and his dad in. They asked if we wanted compensation. Of course not, we were just happy to have the light.
A friend of the interpreter fixed the wiring of light back to the Dynamo and an hour later we were away. Ali (the interpreter) gave us two big bags of pistachios (the local crop) and implored us not to think poorly of their town because of this. He translated messages from many of the onlookers to this effect and we told them all that of course we don’t. They seemed happy to hear it.
We were sort of slow to get going today. In the morning we sat around, threw rocks and generally put off cycling for a good hour and a half. It wasn’t like we were facing any adverse conditions today, in fact it was going to be just like yesterday. But perhaps that was exactly the problem.
A lot of desert separates us from the next town of Kerman. A lot of flat dusty riding in our future. But though some cycle tourers find the desert riding to be a bit of a drag I guess being from Ireland the being in such a large, flat, dry, isolated place is completely new to us, so it’s kind of exciting in a way.
It also means that there isn’t so much to write about given that the days are generally long and flat through the same terrain as the day before and the day before that. The dessert out here was quite rocky and dusty with a couple of scrub plants here and there and rocky hills off about 15 kilometres either side of the road.
These little breaks would often end up in throwing rocks at other rocks in an attempt to entertain ourselves. We spent about 30 minutes after lunch following the noble pursuit.
Yazd is a great place to spend a couple of days. The old town is fantastically preserved, a great example of an old desert settlement with the mud plaster buildings, narrow alleys and tall badgir (wind towers for ventilation).
There are also some nice mosques but we didn’t visit any of them, at this stage we has a bit of mosque fatigue.
Later I wandered around the old town for a bit while the others went to visit a Zoastarian temple.
The next day after spending the morning repairing gear and the bikes we started out to Kerman on what would be our final leg of cycling in Iran. We made it only a little bit out of the city and camped on a wide field of small, compact stones. It was a it weird, it seemed like an old asphalt road, except huge and naturally forming. Very strange.
We were looking forward to getting into Yazd today, the place is another tourist hub and we had been recommended a nice, cheap place to stay similar to the great Khan- e Eshan we had stayed at in Kerman.
Before that though we had another day riding in the desert.
Today the desert was sunny and windy and the road was flat and straight. A bit sandier today too, at least compared to the last few days of rocks and dry scrub bushes. We passed a big rest stop area at 11:30 and figured after yesterday’s debacle we should stop for an early lunch.
Just as we were about to set off again the wind picked up and and started to lift the sand up. It certainly wasn’t a full blown sandstorm but there was a lot of sand flying around, it was necessary to cover mouths and eyes to keep going.
One of our more challenging rides of the trip today. If we thought we had been riding in the desert before today was a real test of our desert riding chops. We began finishing the ride towards Naein though we didn’t actually go into town, turning off just before.
But man was the wind strong, there was nothing to block or slow it down it blew in off the mountains and buffeted us as we rode on. At some point rain falling on the mountains 20 km away had droplets picket up blown out to us.
We had our first and only climb of the route to Yazd today. Given how flat and repetitive the morning riding was we were kind of happy for it.
Not much to say about the morning ride, events of note during the ride: pulled in for a toilet break at a petrol station. A man at the petrol station gave us a small cake to eat. We passed through the villages of Sejzi and Kuhpayeh. We had lunch just outside Kuhpayeh.
I’m not going to have much else to talk about for today’s post so I guess I’ll talk about food. For lunch in Iran we tend to almost always eat Kubideh kebabs, which are minced mutton kebabs. They are pretty much the only food you can find outside the city and they are cheap and sort of tasty. It’s probably the hardest part about Iran, finding traditional Iranian cuisine. Almost all places just sell Kebab, unless you can find a tourist restaurant or get invited to someone’s home. The latter happens frequently enough so a lot of tourists to get to eat the tasty food Iran has to offer. As the tourism there grows I hope that more places open up offering the Persian cuisine because whenever we found somewhere that served it it was delicious.
Anyway, we began to climb shortly after lunch and it was a pretty easy climb, very long and gradual and not steep. Richie naturally found it a bit tougher since it was only his second day riding. I felt a bit bad whenever we had to tell him that, no this wasn’t the top yet but he got up without much difficulty in the end. We could see a bit of snow along the ridges of the peaks we were passing through, something we hadn’t spotted since Tehran.