Four seasons in one day

I left the Turkmen Ecolodge in Totli Tamak with a refreshed body and a rejuvenated soul. My destination: Mirarkola. About 5-6 hours riding back toward Tehran. A friend, Mani, had recommended it as a place to camp up in the beautiful mountains. So with nothing more than a pin drop on a map, I set off as per my GPS instructions keen to see what beauty I would eventually behold. Early on though, it would seem my ride out was to be different to my ride in. A left instead of a right and some dirt roads indicated I was not on the same route. I decided to continue and see where it led and I was not disappointed. For reasons unfathomable to me, my GPS had decided it knew what I loved best and so guided me onto the most stunning dirt road descent amidst a heavily forested area back and forth along the mountain edge with not a soul in sight. I couldn’t believe my luck at such a serendipitous event, just as the locals in the village below couldn’t believe a westerner popping up out of the mountains before turning onto the highway and tearing off into the distance.

The ride was the usual affair. Lots of towns to pass through with their series of unpainted speed bumps (that’s a thing here by the way – they are everywhere, you really have to pay attention), the crazy drivers, the no indication, the non-existent lanes, the usual “Super?” question at service stations (meaning “Do you have premium unleaded?”). As is routine (or tradition by now), I didn’t get away too early, but I figured I had all the time in the world. Although the mountains to my South beset with enormous rain clouds were a minor concern. I figured whilst I was riding alongside I’d be fine. Until I wasn’t. As I came within an hour of Mirarkola, I entered a wet mountainous region. This was to be the famed area of Mirarkola and I now had three concerns to deal with: 1) Daylight was disappearing fast with the heavy, leaking clouds, 2) How much fun is it going to be finding and setting up a campsite in the wet and 3) This was the first time I’d ridden in the rain since my electrics blew a fuse back in Brisbane!

Explanatory note: Before leaving Australia, I got caught in the rain on my ride to work. Next thing I know I’ve lost power. Electrics completely gone. Realising a fuse must have blown, I changed it out and it blew again. I was concerned at the thought of taking a bike overseas that is allergic to wet weather but was glad to have discovered it at home. Once the bike dried out if was fine. And so I covered all my cables, applied di-electric grease to all the connectors and hoped for the best. It’s a really hard thing to know whether you’ve fixed it or not. I started the bike after a big wash and it was fine and that was the best I had to go on.

Despite the growing anxiety I continued deeper into the mountains. The cool and the wet were actually a welcome change. So too the scenery. As I wound my way around the beautiful greenery I finally came upon Mirarkola. A tiny village on the edge of a glorious lake. I descended into the village and I swear it could have been a movie set from the middle ages. Ducks, chickens, dogs and cows roaming around, muddy dirt roads, old traditional style wooden houses and an old guy not overly keen on my arrival. (No idea what he was saying to me, but he seemed grumpy.) I saw what appeared to be other non-residents in a car ahead of me and so I continued down the mud-fest to the bottom of the village nearest the water. As I surveyed the beauty of everything around me, I tried to reconcile Mani’s descriptions with what I was beholding for there really wasn’t much by way of camping spots. Furthermore, the rain continued.

So I rode back up to the main road and continued deeper into nowhere. Some spots seemed ok, but were too visible from the road. Not ideal for security. By the time I went through the next village I realised a change of plan was needed. I was going to have to go back to civilisation. It was now well after 7pm and darkness almost upon me. I  re-programmed the GPS and decided Firuzkeh would be a good option. It was on the way back to Tehran (where I wanted to get to eventually before heading North East) and only another couple of hours. By now I’d been on the road for eight hours. With the ride, some fuel stops and a quick meal in one of the towns the time had quickly ticked on.

When I reached the major highway, the cool that was once welcome suddenly became ice cold. Being drenched at altitude after dusk was not a good combination. I powered on at speed determined to push through. My teeth would chatter from time to time and I was shivering quite a lot. I made it to Firuzkeh and got a change of shirts under the soaking (and non waterproof) jacket. Fortunately, this didn’t involve too much undoing of the luggage and I found a thermal top, my trusty vest and another long sleeve shirt. The warmth was amazing. Immediately, I noticed the effects and felt completely comfortable. I also decided that Tehran wasn’t too far away and I should push on.

Side note: Relying on Google maps for accommodation searches is good unless it’s a small non-touristy place like Firuzkeh. All the search results appear in Farsi and you have no idea if it’s a dingy shed or the Taj Mahal. Furthemore, you know damn well they won’t speak English so asking questions about bike parking is going to be difficult. 

I shot a quick text to Ali to see if he was in Tehran. He had insisted I stay with him earlier, but I was worried about my late notification and was happy to go to my hotel so as not to inconvenience him. I then jumped on the bike and my new-found warmth gave me new-found energy. I was up high in the mountains on a perfect road about to descend to Tehran and the atmosphere was enhanced with an impenetrable fog! I was riding literally along the mountain edge (a bit like the Toowoomba range) but could see nothing of the abyss… all the cars slowed down dramatically and for some time we cruised safely relying on each others’ headlights.

During the ride Ali had replied and the offer was kindly still open so I pressed on and found myself finally in Tehran at 10:30pm. The final couple of hours had been fast and exhilarating. I had now done some serious night riding in Iran and reminded myself that only a few days ago I didn’t have a working headlight that I didn’t think I’d need. How wrong I was. Nevertheless, an 11 hour marathon was complete. I couldn’t quite believe I had left the Turkmen village the same day. I felt fully wired and alert and not a sign of tiredness. I’d been through humidity, heat, rain, freezing cold, fog and now the Tehran heat again. It really was four seasons in one day.