Tabriz to Astara

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Had a typically late start to our first day riding. Got out of bed around 10am and on the road by about 12. Lightening quick really.

Getting out of the city prooved an adventure in itself. Traffic was bedlem, each driver seeming to take joy in trying to get as close as possible to me and the trailer of death and then swerving out of the way, somtimes into another car.

The poolution was pretty bad as well. Due mainly to an Iranian institution called the Paykan. A tiny sedan that for some reason is allowed on the road. Its main fault being that it chews through about 10L of leaded fuel per 100km (as a comparison a brand new Toyota Landcruiser does about 9L per 100km), with its small 4 cylinder motor, and adding to the environmental woes it doesnt have a catalytic converter.

Amongst the ubiquitios Paykans are the new Pegeaut hatchbacks, and many many piece of crap diezel trucks spewing black fumes from their exhauts. Usually right at face level.

So it took about 2 hours to get through the city. Then we hit the up hills- hooray.

Onwards and upwards was the climbing. Pretty much the most painful way to start riding again after a month off. Crept into the mountains, the snow increasing in cover the higher we went, all the while contending the road with a multiude of trucks and Paykans.

After several tortourous hours where it looked like there would be no good camping spots due to the total snow coverage the road started sloping downwards. Was eventually met with a cracking 5km downhill which pretty much froze my hands to the handlebars.

Got into Saba with about half an hour of light left. Pitched the tents in a park and treated ourselves to two hot kebap meals.

Sometime during the night though, on odd thing happened. I woke up and projectiled vomited out my tent. Didnt really bode well for the next day.

Next day woke up feeling like death. But rode on despite this.

The next town we also camped in a park. Great places the parks, nice setting green grass and it feels really safe to stay there. Chatted to a few interested locals that were strolling past and were offered to have tea and food in some guys house. great hospitality again!

(tunes listened to: Block Party, The Kooks, Tool (of course) and the smooth jaz tunings of Charles Mingus).

We woke the next morning to a sunny Iranian day. Birds were chirping, the sun was out and there was a definate hint of spring in the air.
There is a good set up for you.

Only problem was that the day brough wind, snow, massive hills and pestelence on a Ben Hur scale.

Riding consisted of a series of long, steep soul destroying hills followed by scooting along a snowy windblown mountain plateau for an hour or so then descending down into a long valley and finally onto a flat plain. A couple of times cars would pull up next to me and the occupants would emerge with pity and sadness on their faces. They would offer water and snacks all the while muttering something in Farsi that im sure was
"you fool of a man, its cold, wet, and windy, what for you do this riding"?
i would do my best to smile which was a mix of a poor grin and a good grimace.
(I had some good photos of this leg but the bastard that stole my camera in Rasht has them now. Im after you you scum bag)

It was pretty tough on the old legs to say the least. But its not all bad.

However a really good part of this riding caper is noticing the small gradual changes in the environment. At the top of the mountain it was pretty much barren snow covered land. No hint of green or any idea of what was trying to penetrate the white cover. As I descended a few thick shrubs (not unlike the aussi malley shrub) started to appear, still lower down these shrubs were joined in brother hood by some small trees and the odd patch of grass. Upon getting into the valley itself and onto the flat plain large trees emerged and the ground took on a lush green cover, bird calls could be heard through the rush of air and river beds were running with snowmelt water from the mountains. These subtle changes in flora and fauna are a really charming part of riding bikes, the bastard hills arent.

The decision had been made earlier to abscond to Sarayeen. A small town famous for its restorative mineral baths. A great little place to recover from the days trials. Only problem was.....another hill.

To get to the town required the ascent of about 5km of hill. Now that is usally a bit of a pain. But remember this is after one of the hardest days riding so far, its late in the afternoon, and even better once at the top of the hill it started snowing like nothing else.
'just a little further, just a little further" was my mantra.

Finally made it to the top, dusted off the accumulated snow and were led by a new Iranian friend to stay at his house (a common practice in Sarayeen people let out there unused houses as a hotel/apartment set-up). Had a wash, a feed, and best of all a long and much needed soak in the mineral baths.

The bath itself consisted of a bubbling small sized swiming pool with several other smaller baths attached to it. Being of the open air variety the snow slowly fell upon us as we soaked in the hot, rejuivinating waters. The place was packed with guys just hanging out like it was a bar. Chatting, washing, or swiming, everyone was lauging and having a great old time.

The ritual consisted of entering one of the smaller pools, being slightly cooler than the large pool it is a great way to ease yourself in. After a few minutes getting used to the heat, you then clambered over the wall separating the two pools and took up a post in the large pool. Steaming hot water bubbled up from the depths of the earth to create a slight spa effect. Here one could walk around, swim, or just recline back; think about nothing and watch the snow fall.

This lasted about an hour or so, just going from one pool to the other. After this we proceeded to another pool which was constantly draining and where you could have a wash. The soap and shampoo came out and we scrubed away the last few days of grime and dirt. And finally there was a quick rinse in the showers.

All this pleasure and relaxation was for the princely sum of about US$2. Not bad value?

Needless to say it was a great, relaxing finish to a tough day in the saddle.

(as a final word on this tale of the ride from Tabriz to Astara. The next day i decided due to consistent and persisten trots to get a bus from Sarayeen to Astara. It was a hard decision but having absolutely no energy and being pushed for time there wasnt much else to be done. Sux!)

But got to Astara in one piece and found it a great little city.

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