Our plan was to ride first to the ski resort north of Tehran for a halfway break skiing in Shemshak and avoid going into Tehran until after this. Surprisingly wisely for us we decided to swing by the computer shop I went to last night so we could call up the resort. Just to make sure it was open, it had been clear and sunny since we left Tabriz and from where we were standing there didn’t look to be much snow on those mountains on the horizon.
When I retuned of the shop with Finn the guy that ran it was delighted to see us. He beckoned us over to his computer and pointed at the screen. “See!” He said “Ireland!” He had been looking up Ireland in Farsi on Wikipedia since I left.
It was lucky we called up the resort, nothing was open and so we had to abandon that plan and instead head straight for Tehran.

  
From Hastgerd we rode through countryside for bit less than an hour until we were in city. Karaj, a satellite city to Tehran I suppose, has pretty much merged with the capital so all day we were in city. 
The riding was almost entity on freeways so the traffic wasn’t an issue until we started to get to the center of Tehran. On our way in we had a whole load of cars and pedestrians wave and say hello, one guy even bought us a an energy drink each while we were stopped looking at the map. We had a dude in a van pull over in the merging island on a busy expressway to chat to us.

  
We got into a center of Tehran, the city is so huge it takes ages to get anywhere even with the expressways. I guess there is a City Center but there’s also a bunch of neighbourhoods and districts that break the city up too. It was certainly the biggest city we had been to since Istanbul, though cycling into it had been a lot calmer and easier.

  
As with most cities in Iran and Asia in general all of one type of good or service were grouped on the same street. So you’d have cooking appliance street, electronic apparatus street etc. We found ourselves stopped at cafe street. We sat in one for some time mooching wifi trying to find somewhere to stay.
Given our change of plans we couldn’t stay with a host on Couchsurfing or Warm Showers right away, but we found a nice hostel, 7 Hostel, to crash at in the end. It was a surprisingly long day of cycling in the end so we wound up heading straight to bed wrecked.

Taking the day off for Christmas had been a welcome break but it was time to get back on the bikes. We loaded up and started to head out of the city.

From outside Qazvin the urban sprawl started almost right away. Riding on the highway towards Tehran we passed by apartment blocks, factories, other complexes and towns of varying size almost constantly.  

 
The riding wasnt particularly pretty or eventful. We were able to make good time thanks to a strong tailwind, but the wide flat scrubland that lay either side of the road didn’t make for very interesting views. There on the horizon were the peaks of the Alborz mountains, at the foot of this range the northern limits of Tehran were supposed to reach.

 

 
  

But we were still a day away from Tehran so we rode through the traffic and the dust. Stopped for a quick lunch at a rest stop and then on to Hastgerd, or rather the outskirts of it. The countryside was so built up it was hard to find somewhere to camp and eventually we settled for a small group of trees between fields. 

  
I rode into Hastgerd to call up my dad on his birthday. Turned out it was a pretty big town and it took a while to find an Internet cafe. Eventually, after wandering around for quite a while and sunset come and gone I asked in a small computer shop if they knew somewhere to go. The kind guy that owned the place said there wasn’t any coffeenet nearby but I could use his wifi.
On the way back to camp I went to pick up come kebab and rice take away for dinner and ended up ordering six kebab meals instead of six individual kebabas. We weren’t hungry at dinner or breakfast anyway.

We spent Christmas Day in Qazvin but to our dismay most of the shops and restaurants in the city were closed. It was a Friday, Muslim day of rest, and Qazvin is apparently a reasonably religious city so most shops were closed. We were hoping to Skype home, but, all the coffeenets in town were closed so we just sort of wandered around for a bit.

We had a look at the old bazaar and went looking for the Armenian church but that had also closed down in recent years. Things started to look up in the afternoon, Finn found some movies on his hard drive so we had a relaxing afternoon getting a long overdue dose of western culture.

Heading out in the evening we ran into a local guy who was an English teacher. He wanted to have a bit of practice himself and offered to show us around a bit. This has happened so often now we sort of stopped appreciating just how hospitable the Iranians are. This was a lovely little pick me up for our kind of underwhelming Christmas thus far.

Christmas Eve! And a short ride today into Qazvin, only 60km and here we would stop for the rest of today and tomorrow, Christmas Day.

Sort of uninteresting ride into the city. Long flat busy roads next to lots of empty fields, not much to look at but good conditions for riding fast. And a tailwind to boot.

In a small satellite town outside Qazvin we got invited into a car dealership where we sat in a glass-walled office and drank tea with the owner and his friends. There was the usual token Kurd there, the friendly guy with the cheeky glint in the eyes as normal when we can’t communicate we end up just naming the places we’ve been before but that always seems to please people enough.

Next door to the car dealership was a kebab place where we went into eat. A very friendly guy ran this place on his own. He showed us photos of when he was in the army. We understood from some pretty impressive miming that these days he liked to just run his shop and practice karate.

On the cycle into the city we were stopped by a friendly local who gave us directions on how to get to the city center. We thanked him and followed his directions and he drove off. A few minutes later he returned, pulled up Ali g side and and handed us some oranges he had gone off to pick up! We the got his phone number ‘if you need any help call me in Qazvin’.

We found a decent cheap hotel, but for us a bed inside was five stars either way.

 

 

It had been one of the coldest nights, crispy and clear and frosty but thankfully without any wind or snow. Everything was frozen in the morning, all the water, the eggs we were going to have for breakfast even our shoes and socks.
But it was a sunny morning and we soon warmed up in the light. It was the 23rdkf December, the day before Christmas Eve. We had come up with a plan yesterday to ride to the next big town on the route, Qazvin, about 160km away and spend Christmas Day off there. With this prospect in mind we set off in high spirits singing Christmas  carols down the road.

Having reached the top of this long gradual ascent this morning we had a pretty pleasing morning ride along the flat summit in snow. Flanked by the mountains on either side it was one of the nicest morning rides we’ve had all winter.

 

We had a truck driver pull over and talk to us for a bit. He thought we were someone he knew from Lanzarote who also cycled, but he was happy to have met some new people. These little stops are always a fun highlight, a short little break in the cycling that brightens the ride.

We started descending now, as gradually as we had been ascending but cycling was a lot easier. We pulled into a small town called Sain Qaleh for lunch and had everyone nearby running up asking where we were from, welcoming us to Iran and a few jokers warning us to ‘be careful of terroris’ with cheeky grins spread over their faces.
Similar landscape on the other side of town, but the mountain peaks that had frames the road north and south started to drifted further apart and the flat basin spread out more and more. And of course the more we descended the less snow around us.

 

By the time we stopped at a small corner shop to buy morning breakfast the snow was pretty much gone, just flecking the mountaintops in the distance and hidden the north facing sides of hills and rocks. We had a fun interaction with the owner of the shop, a short, round smiley man who kept telling us just how much he loved Imam Khomeini. He gestured this to us by pulling a 100,000 rial note out of his pocket and kissing Khomeini’s portrait and then raising it to his forehead repeatedly.
We found somewhere to camp in one of the wide fields at the side of the road, in a small depression made by a creek that hadn’t frozen over yet.

 

We were riding downhill today for the most part, a long gradual decline that made for an easy day. No big cold passes to cross and the longer we descended the warmer we got. The road followed a river all the way, with a couple of tunnels here and there. We were framed on both sides by hills with a light dusting of snow that became lighter the more we descended.

It was a quiet road by and large, the old highway. It was ignored by most traffic which opted for the bigger freeway that ran in generally the same direction but about 50km South of us on the other side of the hills. 

At lunchtime we pulled into the town of Miyaneh. We stopped outside a kebab shop to have lunch. The owner came out, a young guy, making a phone all and indicating it was for us. Finn answered. In the other end was a guy named Amir, who was going to ride out on his bike to meet us.
Amir was an avid Warm Showers host. He had hosted hundreds of people that came riding through over last five year and a lot of people in town knew to call him if they saw bike tourists arrived. He was a really enthusiastic guy which I found pretty impressive especially after having looked after so many people. He had set up a tourist house, a small one room building in a park with toilets and a shower where bike tourers could stay for free. We weren’t planning on stopping in Miyaneh but Amir’s attitude was infectious so we figured we’d stay.
We took a break in the tourist house for a bit and then went out to look around town. Amir was a great guide, first leading us to a coffee net so we could get some emails out then to an ice cream place run by his friends. We had Persian ice cream and were informed by some local eating there that the Iranian ambassador to Ireland was from Miyaneh.

After we happened across by accident a nearly complete hall under construction that would be used for traditional Iranian wrestling or ‘vazesh-e pahlavani’. This is something we had not really heard of before and after having it explained and then demonstrated its still kind of hard to describe. From Wikipedia: ‘a traditional Iranian system of athletics originally used to train warriors. It combines martial arts, calisthenics, strength training and music.’ We stumbled upon the place as the finishing touches were being made to the ring (or octagon). An older guy who seemed to be in charge walked in and greeted us with big smiles. He explained some of the symbolism of the hall to us and then even demonstrated a few of the exercises, he couldn’t have been less than 60 and he was really giving it socks down on the mat.

It was a lucky encounter and a bit of surprise cultural exchange. We wandered back to the tourist house pretty pleased with our decision to stay in Miyahneh.

A frosty clear morning. Our little field by road, walled as it was on three sides was very well protected from the wind which warmed us a bit, but it was below freezing all night and most of the morning too. No matter though, this is why we had picked up all that winter gear so we wrapped up and headed off.

 Gentle climbs up into the 2000m range this morning. It started to get cloudy and windy and near the top for its for the morning we cycled with icy beards. We had just a couple more small summits to cross and it was fun, riding real freezing cold for the first time – something neither of us had really experienced before. 

Riding along at this elevation was exhilarating and the descent down into warmer heights came at just the right moment, as fingers and toes and noses were starting to get just that bit too cold. A good kebab lunch warmed us up, and a run in with some gradations moustachioed Kurds in traditional garb (loose fitting clicks and shirt, winched at the waist with a thick cummerbund) was a great highlight that set us off with raised spirits.

It was generally downhill after that, though so gradual that it may as well have been flat. We had been riding in parallel with the freeway connecting Tabriz to Tehran, but now we turned away on the old road that would take us on a quieter route down through the mountains. 

Just before dark we pulled up into a small hamlet to pick up food for camp. We were again offered chay, or tea, by the owner who could clearly see we were pretty cold. Outside the town we found a good campsite over a stream in a small gathering of tress that kept the snow from the ground. We set up and quickly got into the warm sleeping bags as night closed in and the temperature dropped.  

We had only one full day in Tabriz and spent it looking around the huge Tabriz Bazaar, a UNESCO World Heritage Site – the biggest covered bazaar in the world. We were stopped and chatted to five times by people who overheard us talking English and wanted to speak. A guy who ran a tourist info, an English teacher, an Iran guy who lived mostly in London and ran a tourism company, an old man in a tiny shop in the bazaar and a young guy and his buddy who saw us with our bikes and like cycling too.

 

 
  

The latter we met up with in the evening and eh showed us around city. They took us to eat a local winter speciality – boiled beans that you covered in vinegar and paprika.

The next day we rode out of the city. Late in the event by the time we left, we had spent most of the day cleaning and tuning the bikes. See short winter days meant we only just made it out of the city limits by the time it got dark. Pulling off the main highway out of town we found a small field walled off on three sides to set up camp in.

A small amount of snow had come down last night, we were well sheltered from it under the overpass, but we were a little worried that the pass into Tabriz higher up would be covered with snow. The sun came out early in the morning though, and the pass, by the time we got up there, was clear.

Up at the pass it was quite cold but exhilarating being right in the snowy peaks now. The climb had been relatively easy, with a stiff headwind to make things interesting. At the top while stopping for photos a truck driver pulled over and handed us some oranges. 

The descent was short out into a wide plateau. It was early afternoon now and we pulled into the first rest stop we saw, standing alone by the road in the windswept landscape. There was a small market there with a little stove warming the room and the young guy who ran it ushered us in and sat us by the stove to warm up. A couple of rounds of tea and a wrap of eggs, potato and cheese and we were well warmed up and ready to go. The shopkeeper chatted away to us all the while.

 From where we were to Tabriz was about 60km, not all that far and over flat ground for the most part but a stiff headwind made the going slow. We passed through desert type terrain, arid stoney landscapes but all covered with a light dusting of snow. At one point we passed a small heard of camels off in the distance. 

There was one more pass to cross before getting into Tabriz. The light was fading as we starts up it, but the sunset glinting off the snowcapped mountains up at 1800m was spectacular which spurred us on, giving us the second wind to finish the long days ride.

Over the peak and down the other side, first into the wide valley that held the main road into Tabriz and then a night cycle into the city itself. Cycling into a new city at night is always exciting, and this our first big Iranian city made it all the more so. Huge neon signs in Farsi and yelling out their window to us as they passed us in the highway ‘Hello sir’ ‘Welcome to Iran!’.
We wound our way through the traffic choked streets to the center of town by the big historic bazaar (a UNESCO site, biggest covered bazaar in the world). On our way to a cheap hotel recommended by the guidebook (no internet to checkout the usual accommodation websites, a refreshing release in its own way) we gottalkjgnto two local lads with bikes of their own.
They were pretty pleased to meet two foreigners in the first place, but that we were travelling by bike really excited them and they were very helpful, showing us to where we were going to stay and arranging to meet up with us tomorrow and show us around.
It had been a hard last few days on the bike. checking in with the front desk, manned by a amicable guy with a masters in English. He was happy to find out we were Irish having studied a lot of Irish writers in University (‘ah Ireland! Land of the writer poet’ he said as we gave him our passport) and even done his thesis on James Joyce, specifically Ulysses. When we got into the room we collapsed on the beds, tuckered out from this cold but rewarding leg.