Category Archives: Dublin to Nepal

Dublin to Nepal, On Tour, Pakistan

Bama Bala

I didn’t have my tablet for the day in Bam Abala, Finn and Andre have some photos that we can try and get uploaded.

Amar served an amazing breakfast in the morning: fresh yogurt, eggs, daal, and a spicy spinach dish. After breakfast we went to look around the village and see the dancing horse. Shahid took us first to the mosques, a simple but attractive building. The Pakistan mosques, for the most part, are a lot simpler than those in Sunni Turkey or Shia Iran. The minarets aren’t as tall, the domes not as wide, but the decoration very detailed in its own way, much closer to what I’d expect in India, which I suppose makes sense.
After the mosque we went to see the dancing horse, an event that took up most of the day. We went to the horse pen, but the musicians and master who could make the horse dance took a long time to arrive. While waiting we got to see a competition that a lot of the men in the village like to get involved in: homing pigeon endurance. They release their pigeons into the air and see whose can last the longest without coming down. 
After a long time the dancing horse show was ready to begin. Shahid explained that it in the summer there was a big competition between all the villages to see who had the best dancing horse. The horse was trained to ‘dance’ when it heard the music played in a drum and horn that sounded like a kazoo. I can’t really say that the show was all the amazing in the end, but everybody there (a crowd had gathered once the music started) seemed very proud of their dancing horse.
We went to visit a friend of Shahids, another cousin. He had been paralysed from the neck down after a motorcycle accident eight years ago. He was bedridden now but Shahid explained that two or three Lasharis and friends sat with him at all times to talk and keep him company. The way the village had pulled together to support one their own in difficulty was inspiring. The man himself was curious and friendly and very happy to hear about our experience in Pakistan.
After an hour we left to visit another friend of Shahid’s. This man owned an orchard, and though it was dark by the time we got to him he had a small fire going in the little hut at the edge of the orchard. They had just finished picking the oranges and had saved the best ones in a box for us all to eat. They were the most delicious oranges I’ve ever had. Shahids friend was very interested to talk to us, specifically about Islam and Pakistan and his dissatisfaction with the current situation. It was an extremely enlightening conversation from someone who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind.
Finally we returned to Amar’s house for one final meal, another barbecue cooked up by the man himself. Amar had worked for a while up in Karakorum we found, back when tourism was still a growing industry in Pakistan before 9/11. Now he was back in warm Punjab and didn’t want to go back up to the cold North again.
More visitors again, of course we were more than happy to speak to everyone. They all seemed so intrigued by us. The headmaster if the local school, the same school that Amar’s Young sin Mehrooz attended, asked us to come visit the school tomorrow before we left for Lahore. Then another cousin, a guy who had spent seven years in England studying came by. He was the most surprised to see us of all. 
Amar had us up late and when we finally went to bed we were tired, full and happy.

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Dublin to Nepal, On Tour, Pakistan

Day 122: Sahiwal to Bama Bala

In the morning the farm owner returned bright and early to take us back to his house for breakfast. We took down camp as fast as we could and followed him back to his village, about 800 m down the road.
His place was really nice, he lived with his elderly father and possibly mother nut we didn’t see her. We were served a breakfast of eggs and lentil curry and fresh yogurt. After we said hello to all his friends in the village who naturally wanted to see the foreigners passing by.

 

bikes getting the customary inspection at breakfast

 
We left the village at 10 which wasn’t as late as it could have been, it’s quite easy to get held up for a long time speaking to everyone. We had at last left the main road behind and found riding on this side road much better. The quality might not have been as good, at some points it was really just a collection of stones and holes, but the scenery we got to ride through and the amount of traffic was much more enjoyable than what we had seen before.

  
We were right in amongst the farmland now, with fields stretching right up touted narrow road. Even though this wasn’t the main road it was still pretty busy, we passed through a lot of towns and there was still traffic but now off tractors and motorcycles, very few cars and trucks.

 

ice cream bike, wonder if you could tour on one of those?

 
 

crossing a bridge not far from Bam Abala

 
 

A bridge is as good a place as any for a break

 
So it really felt now that we were cycling in Pakistan and not simply though it. In the early afternoon we passed through another village and out the other side in a clear field next to the road was a big group of people all watching a drum performance. We decided to stop and take a look and right away a man came up and spoke to us. He asked, do you want to see the drumming? Sure we said, and led us through the circle of people where we were the cause of more attention than the drummers themselves.
We had a crew of children following us around within the circle as we moved from one side to the other. ‘They are happy to see you’ explained the guide ‘they have never seen westerners before’. The drumming was very impressive, four or five guys with a huge drum each slung over their shoulder that they played with their hands. It would start off slow and then every now and the two would face off and start drumming faster and faster until one stopped.
Our new guide was a man named Shahid Lashari. He spoke great English and had worked for a time as a taxi driver in Dubai. Now he was back in Pakistan where he owned a few petrol stations and a guava orchard that he took us too after the drumming.
Shahid offered for us to stay with him and his family back in the village we passed through, a place called Bam Abala. Since we had refused such an offer yesterday we wanted to accept today, so we agreed and he led us back into Bam Abala.
When Shaid was talking about his family we presumed he meant with his immediate family. What he was referring to as Family was the whole Lashari clan, the extended family of uncles and cousins that made up about 60% of the entire village. Shahid took us to his cousins Amar’s place. Amar was a brilliantly friendly character with a broad smiling face and large moustache. He had a passable grasp of English but his laugh and smile were more than enough to communicate how pleased he was to have us.
Amar’s place was big, another compound of a house with the place all centred around a courtyard. We spent most of the evening meeting a seemingly endless stream of uncles and cousins who came to say hi to us. 
After meeting everyone Amar cooked us a brilliant barbecue dinner of fish and Chicken Masala along with fresh Naan and rice. It was of course delicious and Amar seemed to revel in pilling more and more food on our plates until we couldn’t eat another bite.

 

eating with the Lasharis. Shahid on the left in the brown, Amar at the back with his son Mehrooz and Shahids mysterious friend Habib on the right in the black.

 
Shahid and Amar then invites us to stay another day, so that tomorrow we could look around the village, see some of its attraction (they apparently had a dancing horse) and, of course, have another barbecue with Amar. That sealed the deal so we accepted, we would spend another day in Bam Abala.

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Dublin to Nepal, On Tour, Pakistan

Day 121: Kassowal to Sahiwal

This was one of those days I didn’t take many photos, sorry! 

Not much to say about today’s cycling. It was much the same as yesterday with us riding mostly through countryside that was full of farmland along the main road to Lahore. Later today we were going to turn off the main road onto a quiter side road we had spotted on the map, but that was 60 km away yet.
We still garnered the same attention from passers by in the road as before. The novelty was starting to wear a bit thin, and there’s only so many ways you can answer the same questions over and over. I have to say that a surprising amount of people knew about Ireland, compared especially to Iran before. Most people knew us from that time we beat Pakistan in cricket, which I vaguely remember but which most people here seem to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of.
We got to Sahiwal, the town we would be turning off the main road at and continuing along to Lahore on a smaller, hopefully quieter road. We missed the turn off initially but that brought us to something amazing: the first McDonalds we had seen in two months! We all ran in to get McFlurrys. Here, it seemed like McDs was an upscale restaurant for the locals to visit, judging by the fancy cars and well dressed patrons.
We doubled back and soon found the right road out of Sahiwal. Sahiwal, like all settlements be it a village or a town or a city in this case was exploding with people everywhere, driving on the road on motorcycles or donkey carts or in one case camel carts. I know the population of Pakistan is big but I’ve never seen so many people so consistently at every settlement we pass through.
We rode for a while out of Sahiwal and as it got dark once again pulled off the road to find somewhere to camp. We ended up behind a haystack off the road where we thought no one could see us. 

  
As it turned out we could be seen, by the guy whose haystack it was no less. He was happy to let us camp there and even gave us some potatoes to cook that he stored in the hay. He left for a bit and we had our tents and everything set up when he returned with some friends who spoke English. They explained that he was offering us to sleep in his house. If we had known early we probably would have accepted, but now it was dark and we were all set up so we politely refused. We offered to visit him in the morning.

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Dublin to Nepal, On Tour, Pakistan

Day 120: Khanewal to Kassowal

In the morning, after providing us with a delicious breakfast of Eggs and fresh yogurt Afzaal and one of his friends took us to look around Khanewal. We went out to see the market and the place was packed with people. Electronic shops and fruit vendors lined the main road and behind them was a warren of alleys and stalls selling clothes, kitchen products, all sorts. 
Afzaal took us to get ice cream at the best ice cream place in Khanewal according to him and it was indeed delicious. Then we went to visit a two story kitchen appliance shop which was indoors and the two men seemed very proud of. Everywhere we went people wanted to shake our hands, say hello and most importantly, get a photo. 
We visited a glasses shop, the owner was another good friend of Alfaaz. Everyone was really happy to see us, they all asked what we thought of Pakistan and were atains to explain that it wasn’t dangerous. 
After the market Alfaaz took us to meet his boss, the producer of the local TV news station and editor of the newspaper for the region. We sat in a nice office with him and his friends for a while drinking tea and answering questions.by now though it was starting to get let, and as much as we appreciated being shown all these places and meeting all these people we still and to get some distance dance cycling.
Before we could leave though, the press club and the news station wanted to interview us for TV. A big group showed up to undertake this procedure. They asked regular questions and then got some footage of us cycling the bikes. It must really be a rare occurrence to see a western tourist come through.
It was bit later than we would have liked when we finally did get going. We were in the main highway to Lahore so the road was quite busy, but out in the countryside the wide open field and grass and trees all made up for the constant, defeating honking of the trucks. It was so nice to cycle past trees again.

 

We’re big news in Pakistan

 
Like yesterday we attracted curiosity like no other with people on motorcycles pulling up to talk to us frequently, and people in cars stopping to get a photo more than once. When we pulled up to a shop in a small town to get food for camp, everyone in a ten meter radius stopped what they were doing (nothing..?) to come stand around us and stare. It’s really the biggest culture shock we’ve experienced on the trips like no other. It’s a bit intimidating at first, but once you get used to it it’s kind of funny.

 

Flat riding in Punjab

 
Finding somewhere to camp proved to be quite difficult, everywhere was farmland with only narrow tracks wide enough for a motorcycle between them. We pulled off down a side road looking for somewhere decent, a dusty road that was surprisingly busy with people like most places in Punjab.
After much searching we eventually found a patch of land that wasn’t growing anything and set up for the night. As we were pulling our bikes to the campsite a local guy came walking the other way and helped us out setting up camp. Then he gave us his phone number in case anything happened and walked off into the night.

camping amongst the fields

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Dublin to Nepal, On Tour, Pakistan

Day 119: Multan to Khanewal

So after resting in the waiting room at Multan train station we decided we didn’t need to stay in Multan tonight. All we needed was to get some Internet access to to check some important messages and plan the route, and also find somewhere for breakfast. We cycled around for a bit and in the end decided our best bet for finding Internet was at the nicest hotel in town, the Ramada hotel.
They had pretty serious security outside but they let us in eventually. For a group of cycle tourers who had been staying in budget accommodation for the last 6 months this place was luxury. What caught our eye the most though was the huge breakfast buffet spread going on. Nothing quite like a breakfast buffet to tempt the hungry cyclists. We were considering splashing out on it when Finn announced his Nan had given him money for just such a treat, so thanks Phyllis, it was the best breakfast we’d had all trip.
While we were gorging on breakfast (and sticking out like a sore thumb in a restaurant filled with very well dressed people) the hotel security officer came over and said he had a friend he wanted us to meet. Not long after a guy showed up who introduced himself as Mohammad. Mohammad was an old school cycle tourer from Pakistan who had been cycling around Pakistan for years and had just recently come back from a motorcycle trip to Turkey via Iran. 

 

Mohammad brought us these lovely necklaces

 
He wanted to talk to us, he had met hundreds of cycle tourers coming through Pakistan over the years. We talked about cycling in Pakistan and he gave us some advice. We then expressed our desire to purchase a Shalwar-chemise, the local traditional dress of Pakistan that everybody wears. He took us to a store where I found one that looked good. At the the store we went to meet some of his friends and while we were there he organised for us to stay with a friend of his the next town over in Khanewal.
When it was time to leave Multan Mohammad took us to see the main sight of Multan in the way out, the old fort, where we experienced for the first time the Pakistani curiosity, as we paused for a photo and drew a crowd of about 50 people who were just in the park.

  
On the road out of Multan a press crew passed us and stopped us for a TV interview. Once again a big crowd gathered and we almost caused s blockage on the road. I can understand it, I’m not sure how many western tourist they get through Multan especially on bikes so of course they’re all curious.
It continued even outside the city. While riding the 60km to Khanewal for probably 70% of the ride we had guys beside on motorcycles (the main form of transport) asking us questions about ourselves, our home – everything pretty much. It was really cool, totally unlike any riding we’ve done so far and still as much a novelty to us as we were to them so we were happy to engage.
At about 5 km outside Khanewal we met Mohammad’s friend Afzaal who led us through the city to where we were staying. He took us to the local Press club as it turned out he was a journalist, and editor of the paper, and their press club had quite a large hall where they were happy for us to stay.

 

with Afzal, centre, at the press club

 
 

with Afzals friends

 
We talked with him and his friend as best we could for the evening. They brought us a tasty but spicy chicken curry for dinner along with fresh Naan, which is so delicious I could it eat it every day (and kind of have been since we got to Pakistan). The lack of much sleep last night finally caught up to us though and we had to crash early.

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There are no pubs in Tehran so everyone hangs out in coffee shops .
Traffic in Tehran
Ski in ski out hotel north of Tehran. Apparently the Shah used stay here
The green party in Iran is the anti-government party. Here are some government smear posters against them.
Apperently they are afraid of jews shooting nucluer bullets at them
And america are playing them like pawns
Posters of the cleric Sheikh Nimr al-Nimr executed by Saudi’s were all over Tehran.
American embassy in Tehran
A slightly bloodier poster. An in true iranian style the saudi embassy was stormed.
Military murial
The Azadi tower
This is the street the british embassy is on. After the revolution it was changed from Winston Churchill street to Babisandz street. We think the misspelling is to maintain plausible deniability
More murials of the supreme leaders and some martyrs
Pictures of matyrs and the supreme leaders cover the country
The hijab laws extend to both men and women. Meaning men have to wear trousers. We observed the law until cycling in the desert got just too hot and we had to change on the side of the road.
Only two days after skiing north of Iran we were in the desert. and you can see the smog covering the city.
Long shadows after cycling late into the evening
Camping under an old persian bridge
Most Iranian sit cross legged on these raised platforms when eating
We got invited in to stay in what was becoming a tourist house and campsite
Large “friday mosques’ are being built in all cities
Mosque in Kashan
Dome in a historic house in Kashan
More domes
Finding this historic hotel at half price in off season was a deal too good to turn down
Great spot to read your book
Nice visiting a UNESCO heritage site sharing your name
Recently the iranian government has instituted a 6 euro (200,000 rial) entry price to most tourist locations. But if you can read farsi you can see beside the 200,000 rial price is 30,000 ( 1 euro) price for iranians. Pretty cheeky, but we often haggled a bargain out of them.
Originally each of these fountains shot up the same height, maintained purely by the natural pressure of the entering water.
Far away mountains seem nice and manageable
less so the closer you get
After cycling down this lovely road we stopped and realised i had taken a wrong turn and we would need to turn around and go the whole way back up. Whoops.
Clearing the road of debris
Mosque at Natanz, right beside the Nuclear enrichment site. The gaurds were very suspect of us passing the site until we said we were going to Natanz, after which they beamed with smiles and said it was lovely.
More crazy domes
Our campsite seemed pretty interesting to a police hilux that drove up to have a look at us
Chadors are the dress of choice outside cities
Shah mosque in Esfahan
When this school group walked in and saw hugo they swamped him all crowding around to get selfies. Very quickly the mullahs corralled them away from the infidels
Mullahs with selfie sticks
At the Friday mosque in Esfahan
There an elephant strangling someone in this painting
Iranian take their confection seriously
Richie smushing his first Ab Ghoust
Relaxing after an Icecream
We were pretty excited approaching Persoplis
The original gates all guest would have walked through
One of these would have been placed on top of each pillar and a rafter ran over it.
Even though the complex was burned to the ground by Alexander the great. It was later buried under sand preserving it excellently.
The new year consuming the previous
Guest from around the empire being lead to the King.
The Faravahar symbol of the zoroastrian religion, hugely important for iranian identity.
OUr best attept at an album cover
Bastani is iranian icecream and in the south they make it with gelatine and it’s one of the best things we’ve tried all trip
Tombs of Kings of the persian empire. I can’r remeber but Xerxes from 300 might be there.
The founder of the entire Persian empire Cyrus the Great’s tomb. We were asked by the tour guide who was Irelands Cyrus the great
A bridge in Esfahan
Inside a bridge in Esfahan
After our first day climbing Richie thought the climb would never end
But then it did
Cycling down hill to have a warmer campsite had us cycling into the night.
Kerman is our last stop on the bikes in Iran
Beware of camals
Police waved us over, not to check visas or anything but just to see whats going on and get some pictures with us.
Hot in the desert
Last pic of Hugo and his Daesh beard
I got caught in a swarm of chadored women very hard to get out of.
Can’t go to a persian garden without taking a picture of the dome
Persian gardens are a nice break from hectic Iranian cities
Richie, Julie and France at a Zorastrian fire temple
Richie and Zorastor himself
View from our hostel roof in Yazd
There’s a huge amount of littering all across Iran. These are what we call plastic bag farms, nearly ready for harvest
Spiderman making his morning coffee
We could cycle ooor we could throw rocks for another half an hour
How did this pine cone end up in the desert.
Luckily or unlucky we didn’t come across any
Nearly finished cycling for the day
We found this house in the middle of nowhere, thought there might be bathroom we could use
One of the worse bathrooms on the trip
All the camping spots are kind of the same in the desert.
When it rains it pours, punctures for all.
After patching this puncture I found out it went through to the other side and had cause a second puncture.
My bike is somewhere in there being repaired by the local electrician.
A shot of the villagers who came out to help me find my stolen light. This is about a third of the total charcters who made an apearence over the course of the afternoon. The secret police refused to have their pictures taken for obvious reasons.
You could pick up these huge mud bricks and throw them around. Throwing things around the desert is one of the best ways to stay sane.
Hey buddy
The camals were a bit camera shy
Pistachio bush or tree
Sun setting on our way into Kerman
The start of the armed escorts
After cycling out of the iranian border town we were stopped at the first checkpoint. After we spent the whole day in escorts only to get to the border too late, we were pretty forceful explaining we had to get to the border. It was all well humoured and after marching around yelling and waving our hand a truck arrived and took us on our way.
Iranian Border with Pakistan in the distance
After the myriad of iranian offices, customs buildings and security measures we walked across the border in to the desert. There was nothing. We were lead over to one small mud building processed to all the incoming and exiting traffic.
Dublin to Nepal, Finnian's Galleries, Iran

Southern Iran

Gallery
Dublin to Nepal, Pakistan

Quetta and the train to Punjab province

We were totally under police control while staying in Balochistan. We couldn’t leave the hotel without there escort and we couldn’t leave the city without obtaining a No Objection Certificate. Getting the certificate was free, but we had arrived in the city on a Saturday night and the office was closed on Sunday. So we spent a day in the hotel doing nothing, which suited me as I had caught a cold over the last couple of days.
On Monday we went to get the NOC which wasn’t hard, just a cause of patience as the bureaucratic machine worked. The police drove us to the city hall where we gave our passport info and waited. It took about two and a half hours. After we went to buy train tickets, but the system was down and our escort didn’t want to wait so they took us back to the hotel (after we made them take us to get lunch). In the evening I went out to get the tickets which took a bit of time as the station wanted copies of our passports and NOC’s but we were sorted in the end, tomorrow morning we were leaving Quetta.

 

Richie making the most of being stuck in the hotel

 
The next morning we got up early, ready to go to the station with time to load our bikes up. We were ready to go on time but the escort was late. We were about to just cycle to the station on our own, given it was only 5 min down the road when the police showed up just in time and told us to cycle anyway.
We had just enough time to register our bikes and get them into the luggage compartment on the train. We the loaded up our panniers around our seats and got ready to sit down, when a large family came through and sat down. They had gotten their tickets mixed up and changed two hours later at the first big stop. From then in we settled in to the slow and dusty train out of Balochistan and into Punjab.
Punjab is mostly alluvial plain and we all enjoyed watching the arid, sandy desert slowly change into lush green fields over the course of the day. First the green patches of crops grown in the desert though irrigation canals, then some trees, then the green patches increased in size and frequency until we were at last surround by green. After so long in the desert across Iran and Balochistan, the green of Punjab was such a relief.

 

sweet green grass, Ive missed you

 
The train was full, but not overcrowded or with people hanging out the sides or on the roof as we had seen with the buses. We were even able to pull down the sleeper bunks once we had manoeuvred the panniers off them and sleep for the final hours of the journey.
We pulled into Multan at four am. Richie and André went to rescue our bikes from the luggage compartment porters while Finn and I unloaded all the panniers. Somehow throughout all the loading and unloading over the last four days all we had lost was a couple of straps.

 

The bikes survived the journey!

 
We went to kip on the train station benches while we waited for dawn. The station guard found us and after getting over the shock of finding three foreigners sleeping on their benches they brought us to the waiting room where we could sleep in the beds there.

sleeping in the waiting room

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Dublin to Nepal, Pakistan

Riding with the Levies: Escort across Balochistan (Border Crossing: into Pakistan)

The checkpoint on the Iran side of the border was a fancy purpose built building with office and security screening and everything. On the Pakistan side there was a small one room hut where our visas were processed. This contrast framed the Pakistan experience perfectly. 

Everyone we dealt with was really friendly, the checkpoint guards, the passport bureaucrats even the money changing scalpers were friendly in their attempt to give us a poor exchange.
Once we had gone through passport control we were led to another hut where the army took our information and after that to the levies station. The levies are the law enforcement group in Balochistan, they are a paramilitary force that have jurisdiction over most of the provincial areas of Balochistan set up during the time if the British Raj.
In the past tourists could take the bus from The border town Taftan to the first big city Quetta but in recent years ‘security issues’ has meant that now the levies drive every tourist that comes through from station to station the 800km to Quetta. All this was explained to us while we waited in the station by one of the station workers. We also had an interview with a rather stern bearded man about our route through Pakistan who advised us on where we should and shouldn’t go.

 

with the levies in the Taftan station

 
We had to wait for the rest of the day in the levies station, we passed the time playing cards which was quite a relaxing way to pass the time, except when the levies dragged some guys into the station, beat them and jailed them explains that it was because they were ‘disrespecting the uniform’ as if it was the most natural thing in the world. We were really in the Wild West of Pakistan now.
A bit later in the day we were in for a big surprise. Another tourist arrived at the station, and he was a bicycle tourist too! 
This was André Augustusson, a young guy from Sweden on a round the world tour. Through some fantastic coincidence he happened to leave Iran the same day as us. We spent the rest of the evening talking about bike touring, what our route was, people we’d both encountered, it was really nice.
We also talked to the assistant commissioner of the levies for some time, he was a well spoken guy who liked to practice his English when the tourists came through and was very proud of the levies and his position. He brought his brothers over later that night and we talked to them too, very friendly guys eager to talk to tourists like us.
The next day we loaded up our bikes and all our luggage, four persons worth, in the back of one pick up truck and sat in the back with it all. This would be the first of many times we did this over the next two days as we travelled from levies station to levies station changing trucks at every stop.

 

André and Finn in the first escort truck. see if you can find Richie

 
We left Taftan behind and drove out across the desert. There were frequent checkpoints where we had to sign in with our passports info but that was the only delay. In general we sped across the desert. Two hours later we swapped trucks at a small village and continued on the same as before.

 

leaving Taftan

  

almost all the trucks in Pakistan are decorated like this

 
At the third stop of the day we had lunch in the levies station as we waited for the next truck to arrive. After an hour the final truck arrived, we loaded up and drove on the last 80km to Dalbandin where we would spend the first night.

 

leaving the second village

  

One of many checkpoints along the road

 

 

another checkpoint

  

lunch in the levies station

 
We didn’t stay in the levies station here, we were brought to the Dawood hotel where, after a bit of bargaining got two rooms for 500PKR (about €4.50) each. Here though we met the Dalbandin levies captain who proved to be a bit difficult to work with. 
He didn’t want to load our four bikes and luggage in the back of his new pick up. He made all sorts of excuses, that he needed the room for his men that he didn’t have time tomorrow, all sorts of nonsense, and then said we had to hire a truck to drive us to Quetta tomorrow for €70.

 

André outside the Dawood hotel in Dalbandin

 
We were all pretty sure he was supposed to take us in his truck, and no way we were shelling out €70 so we told him ‘fine, if you don’t won’t to drive us we’ll cycle and you can follow’. Clearly not pleased we had called his bluff he made up some excuse and said he couldn’t take us until the day after tomorrow. I don’t know what we would have done if we hadn’t made friends with the assistant commissioner the day before but we did and we got his number too, so we called him us and explained that the levies chief here was not being cooperative.
After a short phone conversation the chief came back and told us he’d be here tomorrow morning to escort us while we cycled. Problem solved. And we were pretty sure he wouldn’t have the patience to drive slowly behind us as we pedalled and would just load the bikes up in the end anyway.
We spent and enjoyable night in the hotel and the next day we were proven right. We were all ready to cycle when the chief pulled up and told us to load up the bikes.

 

loading the bikes into the truck in the end after the chief finally conceded

 
What followed was a long day of load and unloading the bikes as we arrived and left the various levies station. Sometime we would only drive for twenty minutes before we had to change escorts. But everyone was friendly and for the most part easy going.

 

Now this is desert

  

swapping trucks at the first of many checkpoints today

 
 

Any room in there?

  

we got very good at fitting everything in one truck. theres two more bikes and all our luggage and four grown men back there

  

good view from these pick-ups

  

waiting at another station for the next truck to arrive. you can get an jeea for the amount of stuff we had to pack in each time

 
It was dark by the time we arrived at the outskirts of Quetta and here the levies jurisdiction ended so we waited by the road for an hour until the police arrived. They all seemed a bit high strung and even transferred us to an armoured car as we got closer to the centre of the city. We had to swap trucks three times which was a bit overwhelming in the dark in a busy city with all the police shouting ‘hurry up’ as we did so but kind of exciting too. 
We made it at last to the Bloomstar Hotel, a compound of a hotel where all the tourists that pass through are dumped, like it or lump it. It had been exhausting trip across the Balochistan desert, transferring heavy luggage all day and riding in the back of pick ups but we were out the worst of it. Soon we would be on a train out of Balochistan all together and we could ride our bikes again.

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Dublin to Nepal, Iran

Journey to the Pakistan Border

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. 

 

only photo I took all day, Finn in the hotel room

 
The next morning we left with a fresh vigour ready to get to Pakistan. We had to make it today, it was the final day our Pakistan visa would be valid. First step was to get our passports back, which we did by walking down to the police station down the street and making a fuss back in the hotel and in the end the police organised the escort and the hotel gave us our passport. Next we loaded up the bikes and started cycling to the border on our own. The police wanted us to wait but after our experience yesterday we knew that was a loosing game.
At the first checkpoint we had to stop, as we had presumed, but now we were in the road at least and not waiting around in the hotel. Once again we were waiting for the army escort to arrive, but unlike yesterday we kept badgering the checkpoint guards until we were sure it was on the way. Ten minutes later it arrived and thirty minutes after that we were at the border.
It had been quite the ordeal getting here but now were leaving Iran, and just in time too. Apart from the last few days the stay in Iran had been fantastic, and amazing, eye opening journey through a land diverse in history and rich in culture where everyone was welcoming and trying hard to shake off the bad image their country had. 

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Dublin to Nepal, Iran, On Tour

Day 118: Rafsanjan to Kerman (Bus to Zahedan)

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.

 

Finn was so excited to see the camels he fell off his bike

 
 

trying to get a photo with the least shy camel of the bunch

 
  
It took a while to photo the camels, they weren’t that eager to hang around. But, persistence paid off and we road away happy in the end. 30 km of featureless desert followed this, but like an oasis the town of Kabootarkan appeared over the horizon. 

  
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.

 

With Nima outside his bike shop

 
 Nima gave us directions to the bus station and we made it there with time to spare, the night bus to Zahedan wouldn’t leave for another hour and half. To kill time we went to get something to eat and ended up waiting so long for it we were barely finished by the time the bus arrived and we were whisked away to load up our bikes.
We were taking the bus for two reasons, first we and been told that East of Kerman to the border is ‘dangerous’. I’m not entirely sure how dangerous it really is although the area is technically part of the golden crescent. The more definitive reason though, was that we were running out of time to get into Pakistan. With only three more days of validly to enter there was no way we could make it by cycling.
With everything packed up we got on the bus. This was the last day of cycling in Iran. If everything goes smoothly we should in Pakistan in the next few days.

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