Into the Desert - Esfahan to Yazd

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We had a good fast cycle out of Esfahan towards Yazd, but failed to make an early start and so it was hot, especially now that we had left the Zagros Mountains behind and were entering the central deserts. Although it was a main road it was not too busy and the wind was not too bad at first. The desert was pretty flat and uninteresting though and we passed by the salty marsh where the river flowing through Esfahan terminates in a depression in the desert. In the afternoon the wind picked up and although the going was flat our progress slowed and was hard work. We watched the dust devils spiraling along over the desert beside us.

The first night we were looking around for a place to camp before the hills when ‘Mr Ali’ stopped in his car to invite us to his house for the night. We stayed in his small village and I was summoned out to meet the women. It was really nice to talk to the women who were very interested to speak to me and they were really very smiley in their colorful chadors. It was also the first time we spotted a water storage dome. These really are beautiful buildings; they are domes with four Badgirs (wind towers) at each corner. The Badgirs are the original form of air-conditioning and really are effective at catching any breeze and cooling it by passing it over water and into the mud-brick buildings. I was amazed to learn this water store was the village’s water supply in the past. In the winter, when it rains and even snows here, they filled it and in summer they relied only on this for their drinking water. This village and the others we had passed did not have their own water and these days they relied on tankers from Esfahan. I was totally shocked; the idea of a village with no water was completely alien to me and it really hit home that I was on the edge of a massive desert.

We cycled over some nice hills towards Na’in but on the way down I got a puncture, this was to be the first of many. We cycled out of Na’in after lunch into the dusty desert, but only after about 20 miles, and another puncture, I was literally falling asleep on my bike. With relief we spotted an old Caravanserai with a small car mechanic and tyre shop beside it. We went over and got some water then went round the back of the caravanserai and found a brilliant sleeping platform in the shade to sleep on for the afternoon. We were both really tired and the heat made it unbearable to stay awake. We had no idea of the temperature at the time but learned later that it was in the high 40’s during most of the day. Trying to cycle across the desert in the afternoon was simply stupid, the heat was oppressive and if there was a breeze it was hot and only made things worse. It was easy to get water from the many trucks that would stop to say hi or were parked up for a rest, with the drivers sleeping on mats under the shade of their trailers.

The caravanserai was impressive; one of the 999 built by Shah Abbas in the 1600’s to facilitate trade along the silk roads. They are spread out about every 30 km and used to have water and room to house animals as well as rooms for lodging. They were kind of old fashioned motorway service stations. These days many are ruined but some still have water flowing to them from ingenious irrigation systems called Qanats; tunnels with water flowing down from the mountains. We were debating whether it was a good idea to stay the night at the caravanserai, there were obvious tracks leading from the road and it was plain that trucks would park up here for the night. Also there was some graffiti around that made us think that this was an obvious attraction for cruisers at night. While trying to decide whether to push into the desert to camp in the middle of nowhere, the old farmer who had been tending fields behind the caravanserai, watered from the qanat, came round and insisted that we stay with him in his hut by the road. We agreed but although he was nice and gave us tea and water for washing, his hut was hot and noisy.

Still we made an early start the next day and were cycling by 5.30 am when it was still cool. It only really got to a nice temperature about an hour or 2 before sunrise, and by 2 hours after sunrise was already unbearably hot. We had a cola stop at about 9 am but I had another blow-out, our tubes seemed to be disintegrating in the heat. We had no spares left and hoped we could make it to Yazd without any more problems. We reached Ardakan for lunch and a sleep under some trees. The desert had been pretty uninspiring but we had now made it close to a line of mountains that was running all the way to Yazd and a strip of green farmland that followed alongside them.

We cycled on to Meybod to see the castle and the restored caravanserai. We really liked Meybod; the whole town had been made from mud-brick and the castle was very impressive. However I got yet another puncture (failed tube) and as it was Friday Robin had to go on the back of a motorbike off to the other side of town to find a bike shop that was open to buy a tube. I patched the damaged one and we now at least had a decent spare. We cycled off through the farmland and shrubby desert towards Yazd, but after only about 15 km I had another flat tyre. This meant that we had to camp where we were as the sun was rapidly setting. We found a spot by some bushes and decided not to put up the tent since it was such a nice temperature. It was nice sleeping out under the stars but all night I kept waking up to shake the ants out of my sleeves and the next day I realized I had quite a lot of ant bites, Robin had not been bothered at all though. We changed the tube on my bike and cycled the last 40 km to Yazd. Unfortunately Robin developed a puncture on the way there and every couple of km had to get off and pump, because we had no more inner tubes spare. We had left Esfahan with 7 good inner-tubes, including the ones we were using, and arrived in Yazd with only 3!

In Yazd we checked out all the cheap guest houses but they were either full or not that cheap so we ended up at the Silk Road Hotel. The hotel is built in a restored traditional home and it is a mid range hotel with a dorm room. It was here we met the first other cyclists that we had spoken to in a long time. One South African guy was going to Pakistan but a lot quicker than us, and an English guy called Steven who had come from Japan on his bike. We had planned to spend only a few days in Yazd, but the company of fellow backpackers and cyclists, the wonderful relaxing courtyard of the hotel and the start of the World Cup kept us there for 5 days. Also it did not help that Yazd is ridiculously hot and the whole town shuts down from noon to 5 pm. We spent a lot of time in Yazd asleep, chatting or watching football. In particular we met a fellow Aberdonian called Erik, who had a surprising grasp of Persian. Turns out he is half Persian, his mother coming from Tehran. It was really cool to chat to someone who is familiar both with home and with Iran.

We tried to get some inner tubes for our bikes and Robin thought it would be good to have his ball bearings changed in his rear hub like I had had mine done in Bijar. Robin’s hub had been grinding a bit since Damascus. Unfortunately we could not find a good mechanic and the one we did find made a complete mess of the hub, so that after charging us a lot for the work it literally fell apart on the way back to the hotel. Robin was fuming as it was obvious the guy had not even replaced all of the parts. With some help from Erik we got some instructions written in Farsi and returned to the shop the next morning, insisting he rebuild it using the original parts, with Robin standing over him to make sure he put everything back in the right order. My advice to other cyclists looking for repairs in Yazd - go somewhere else!

Despite the heat and constant world cup matches we did manage to look around Yazd. According to UNESCO, Yazd is the second oldest city in the world and this is easy to believe when you wander through the maze of passages in the ancient mud-brick old city. The Masjed-e-Jame here has 2 towering minarets which dwarf the surrounding squat mud-brick settlements and used to act as a beacon for caravans crossing the desert. Along with the dome they are tiled with the traditional Persian turquoise geometric mosaic patterns. Only women can climb the minarets as it is possible to see into private courtyards from the top and therefore glimpse women who may not be wearing hijab inside their homes. Yazd seemed very conservative after Esfahan, with nearly all the women wrapped in black chadors despite the heat.

We met Assiye and her brother Karim, who asked if his sister could ask us some questions. She proceeded to produce an enormous list of questions written in English and interrogate Erika about western culture and life in Britain: “Do you go to discos?”, “How short are your skirts?”, “What do you think about make-up and plastic surgery?”, “Are people all rich in your country?”, “Is it true you can buy a car whenever you want?”, and so on and on and on……. Erika seemed only too happy to make sure she was properly informed and when I discussed with Karim how women can talk for hours he suggested we should continue the interrogation at a nearby tea-house, inside an old hammam deep inside the bazaar. Over tea we learned that things really did seem to be different in Yazd; Assiye told Erika that she hated her chador but was made to wear it by her family, and that her mother would die of shame if she were to go without it in Yazd. She could only remove it once she was “40km away from the city”.
Karim told me that he would like to marry, but he was not free to choose his partner as it was impossible for him to have a relationship with a girl before marriage, not even to talk and meet in public places - something which certainly doesn’t seem to be an issue in other parts of Iran. His brother had met his wife for the first time at their wedding ceremony! He hated the idea of being stuck with someone he didn’t like or didn’t share the same ideas and dreams with, “it would be hell”, and so felt it was better never to marry. “It is not possible to have girlfriend in Iran”, he said. I felt like telling him to go to Esfahan! Maybe there really are 72 tribes…….

Aside from the mud-brick old city, Yazd is also famous for its bizarre Amir-Chakmak monument. This is an ornate 3 tiered religious building used in the Shia mourning ceremonies for the martyrdom of Hossein, the 3rd Shiite Imam who was murdered in Iraq by the early Sunni caliphate. There is a plainer replica inside the old city that we used to climb to the top of to sit and enjoy the views across the roofs and badgirs to the mountains and desert beyond the city.

Yazd is also the centre of Zoroastrianism in present day Iran. Once the state religion of ancient Persia Zoroastrians now form a tiny minority inside Iran, with most living in Yazd. There is an active Fire Temple which houses a fire that has been kept burning for nearly 1500 years, although it was moved 3 times to its current location. They do not worship fire, but rather use it as a symbol of the spiritual essence of God - at least that’s what I understood anyway. Zoroastrians worship a single, all powerful god called Ahura Mazda, and as such Zoroastrianism is believed to be one of the earliest monotheistic religions, and is possibly the forerunner to Judaism, Christianity and Islam. As the major state religion of ancient Persia it would have been well known in ancient Mesopotamia and Babylon (itself a vassal kingdom to Persia at many times) and therefore may have inspired Abraham and his worship of a single, all powerful God. This is a controversial debate though, so I will leave it there……

Zoroastrianism was still the main religion prior to the Islamic conquest, with many fire temples destroyed and priests (known as magi) killed by the invading Arab armies. The religious government today regards Zoroastrians as “people of the book”, although not technically true they are afforded this tolerance due to their position as the last remnant of something truly Persian. Most slowly converted to Islam or else left and fled to India where a sizeable population of ‘Parsees’ live today, though they are apparently very secretive.

We had hoped to cycle out into the desert to a place called Chak-Chak that is an important pilgrimage site for Zoroastrians and where a 4 day festival was about to start. We got word that non-Zoroastrians would not be welcome though, and the temple would be closed to non-Zoroastrians for the duration of the festival. We changed our plans and went in a taxi with Erik to visit the site before it closed. On the way we stopped at the village of Kharanak with its crumbling, ancient mud-brick village perched on a cliff looking over a fertile valley fed by Qanats from the surrounding desert hills. The place was like a 3-D maze of tunnels, stairways and rooftops and it was great to explore, though some of the buildings were pretty fragile.

We then continued deep into the desert on unsurfaced tracks running between awesome, sheer sided high rock mountains that were somewhat reminiscent of Wadi Rum in Jordan. Chak-Chak is a tiny collection of buildings built onto the side of a cliff on one of these mountains. Legend has it that a Zoroastrian princess, fleeing the invading Arab armies, escaped from Yazd into the desert running for her life. She arrived at this cliff and was cornered, with the army closing in on her. She prayed to Ahura Mazda to be spared and the cliff opened and she disappeared inside. From that time a spring of water marked the sacred spot, its drip-drip giving the Persian name Chak-Chak. It has become an important shrine for Zoroastrians ever since. We climbed up to the shrine but were disappointed to find the fire was not burning; seemingly they only light it for ceremonies. There were some candles and a rather crude red plastic bucket catching the drips from the holy spring. There is an impressive door of brass/copper with relief’s of temple guards on it and the setting is amazing, in a cave half way up the cliff. The shrine had a huge tree growing out of it which people appeared to have tied rags and bits of cloth to, though I’m unsure of the significance. The setting, cave, tree and legend had many parallels with the Christian shrine at Ma’alula in the mountains in Syria (see much earlier blog). The caretaker told us that as of that afternoon they would be preparing for the pilgrims and closing to tourists. It seems that there is no real festival as such, just a steady flow of pilgrims passing through over a 4 day period.

On the way back to Yazd we stopped off in Meybod again, actually getting into the castle this time and also inside the ice-house. The castle is built on remains dating back 5,000 years and as such is the oldest mud-brick building in existence, apparently. We also visited the pigeon tower, a bizarre building that has been fully restored for some reason, complete with several stuffed pigeons in a variety of poses. This was used in olden times to collect the pigeon shit to use as fertilizer on the fields of the surrounding oasis.

Back in Yazd we also visited the “Towers of Silence” - the funery site for Zoroastrians in ancient times. The basic edicts of Zoroastrianism are “good thoughts, good words, good deeds” and in particular they revere mountains and the natural world in general. Some describe it as nature worship but it seems to combine pagan nature worship with the worship of an all powerful, single creator God. As part of their respect for nature Zoroastrians did not used to bury or cremate their dead, as this would contaminate the earth or air respectively. Instead they followed nature’s example and left their dead to be eaten by vultures and other scavengers until only clean bones remained. The corpses were left to be consumed in this way on special raised platforms just outside the city. Such ‘towers’ were once common all over Iran, but were in use most recently in Yazd. They comprise round platforms built onto the top of low mountains just on the edge of the city. On the plains below lie scattered ruins of various temples and buildings used for funeral rites etc. Beyond is the current Zoroastrian cemetery - the practice of feeding the vultures was banned some time ago and a compromise reached of burying the dead inside concrete lined graves to avoid contaminating the earth. We sat on top of the “tower” and admired the view back across the city and to the surrounding mountains and desert, now beginning to glow as the sun set.

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Photos

Masjed-e-Jame, Yazd.
The towering minarets and portal used to guide caravans in from the desert.

Detail on the Fire Temple
This winged figure represents the human essence of Zoroastrianism.

Caravanserai
An ancient rest stop in the desert.

Water Storage
Typical water storage dome in the Yazd region. The four towers are badgirs, no not furry animals.

Siesta
Erika makes good use of the limited facilities at the caravanserai.

Puncture!
Another failed tube forces a stop in the desert.

Desert Sunset
On the road to Yazd

Meybod Castle
Possibly the oldest mudbrick building in the world!

Old City, Yazd
Part of a labyrinth of mud-brick lanes in the second oldest city in the world.

Chak-Chak
Brass door guarding the entrance the Holy Shrine of Zoroastrianism

Zoroastrianism
Symbols and Philosphy of the ancient religion.

Chak-Chak shrine
Halfway up a cliff in the desert.

Silk Road Hotel
Sometimes it was hard to tear ouselves away from such luxury....

Fire Temple
And not a ruin this time. Inside is a fire that has been kept burning for 1500 years or so.

Tower of Silence
An ancient bird table for vultures..... but not for hanging peanuts on....

Comments

[Sean]

Small World
Hey guys - inspirational stuff - myself and mate were bumming around Yazd and surrounds at almost exactly the same time as yourself, during July 06; and we seem to have pretty much matched each other step for step - am surprised we didn't bump into you along the way - if you ever saw two badly sunburnt irishment then that was us - keep on truckin