Iran Abridged

Because of the need to return to Tehran we had to miss out a little of Iran, and we decided to miss two of Iran's extremities, Mashad the Shiitte holy city, and Bam, the mud citadel, recently destroyed by an earthquake. The were chosen as they are in the far corners of Iran, also they are both notoriously hot, and Bam came with the added 'attraction' of police escorts, because of the reputation of those naughty Taliban guys hanging out in Pakistan. Hence our new agenda after Tehran was: Esfahan, Persepolis, Yazd, Dasht-e-Kivir (desert) and back to Tehran. The highlight of this was probably our three days camping in the desert, although we wouldn't advise missing any of the others, particularly Esfahan's main square, the ruins near of Persepholis and the desert oasis town of Yazd. Tehran can be missed mind you! So, here's our experience of the rest of Iran in a nutshell:

Tehran - polluted, smelly, dirty but very friendly people. Very missable for those not chasing visas.

Esfahan - absolutely beautiful sqaure with water, blue tiled mosques and a tourist bazar. Unfortunately the river was bone dry so all the tea houses amongst the bridges were closed. A stunning place to visit and not to be missed.

Yazd - our favourite city. Yazd is a desert city with winding alley ways, mud brick houses and more blue tiles. It has a very relaxed feel, with only a couple of real tourist attractions. By far the best thing to do is wander the streets, getting lost and finding the way out.

So, after our second visit to Tehran we were equipped with our Azerbaijan and Pakistan visas, and ready to take the northern route to Kazakhstan, via the cargo ferry from Baku. And with more and more demonstrations being called we knew it was time to get out of the city and find a drink!

Ferry Good?

So, the next mission was to try and get to Baku in time to catch the ferry that leaves Azerbaijan for Actau in Kazakhstan. this ferry comes with a nasty reputation for running to no timetable and having the least helpful staff known to mankind. Luckily we had inside information as our friend Russ was already in Baku and we were told that the ferry was likely to be leaving on Friday. We were kept in Tehran until Tuesday to pick up our Pakistan visa and hence had to hotfoot it to Baku, in order to cross the border and then pick up a Kazakhstan visa. We drove almost non stop and reached the border in time to get a few hours sleep and be first in the queue the next morning. Unfortunately this was our worst border yet and it took nearly five hours to cross, and we still had another five hours to get into Baku. But with the thought of our first alcoholic drink in nearly a month driving us on we reached Baku just in time for a well deserved pizza and a night on the town with Russ and his new motorcycle buddy Nathan.

Therefore on Thursday we woke with very sore heads and an urgent need to pick up our Kazakh visa, which was rumored to take 48 hours, but which we had to get in a maximum of 24 hours. The lady dealing with our request turned out to be a star, and after a little bit of shouting to Astana, the Kazakh capital, arranged for us to pick it up at 5pm that day! This was incredibly lucky for us, because whilst we were at the embassy Russ had been at the docks trying to pick up his ferry to Turkmenbashi, and had found out that our ferry was now going to leave a day early on Thursday! Wow, it was now a real race against time.

Our biggest problem now was communicating with the Vogan like staff at the port, who seemed to take great satisfaction in humiliating the foreign travelers who were clueless regarding the ferries. And because we were all really hungover the whole situation was one of the more stressful we had had so far. Eventually Jenny returned from the embassy with the visa in hand just as I was about to secure our priceless ticket! Vive Kazakhstan .......

Cruising the Caspian

Whilst queuing for the ferry we met up with a whole shower of fellow travelers: two American cyclists, a French back backer, three French classic Citroen drivers, along with their rather handy Russian photographer, as well as Russ's mate, Nathan. Russ himself was catching the sister ferry to Turkmenistan, and was unlucky to have no other travelers with him. We would next see Russ in Uzbekistan, holed up in hospital, and this time begging us for a drink. More of that later though.

We hadn't researched this ferry in much detail because it was such a late addition to our trip, but we had heard rumours that it could take upto three days and would have no food on board. Because of the chaos of the day we hadn't had a chance to buy any food, and were a little worried we may starve on the Caspian, but we were soon relieved to not only find a bar and restaurant, but also find that Eva our new Russian friend, was a vegetarian. We would live!

The only other thing we knew about the ferry was that its sister ferry was sat on the Caspian seabed, having failed to finish a crossing during a storm. Because of this, any storms now meant a dropped anchor and more time added to the crossing. We got about 10kms out of Baku before the winds changed and we dropped anchor, waiting for a promised storm. It turned out that we waited for 3 days in this spot, with the sea never getting worse than the average crossing of the English channel. But with new friends being made, and an endless supply of vodka, we were happy to pause for a little while. And with Eva's Russian we were also allowed down below deck to get food and other comforts from our vehicles. This meant on our last night we could cook a celebratory chilli, and spend a pleasant evening with our new friends.

Kazakhstan Through to Uzbekistan

We arrived in Actau a little 'seasick', and even though we were ably assisted by Eva, the border was another nightmare 4 hours, but soon we all met up ready for one last evening together. We drove through Actau in a crazy 'Wacky Races' style convoy - two old Citroens, a motorbike and Dino. We were giving the two cyclists and the backpacker a lift, and Dino was full with three people in the front, the two cyclists and their baggage crammed in the back, with their cycles perched on the roof. Everywhere we drove we were greeted with friendly beeps, smiles, waves and cheers.

We searched for a while, but found no obvious camping spot, and were growing a little tired and weary. Then, out of the blue, we were joined by a saviour on a Harley Davidson - Vlad the Russian Kazakh. Vlad took us to his flat, pointed out the areas which were 'no go' due to radioactive contamination, and highlighted to us the perfect spot, a yacht club ten minutes away on the beach. It was now eleven o'clock, but we all were suddenly awake and ready to go again. It was also summer solstice, 21st June, and almost Jenny's birthday. Having been stuck on a ferry for much longer than anticipated, I had had no chance to organise anything for Jenny, but it was looking like a 'surprise' beach party was on the cards. God was smiling on us. We arrived and soon cooked a great meal, and then at midnight Alex (the cyclist) pulled out his violin and played Jenny happy birthday. This was followed by plenty of shots of vodka, and a cheeky dip into the very cold Caspian sea. Happy Birthday Jenny!

We spent one more day and night on the beach, chilling, whilst watching the Kazakh Marines doing strange drills on the beach, but then the next day we all went our own ways. Our plan was to meander our way down to Uzbekistan, taking 5 days or more to cross the border. We were now ahead of schedule and actually had to kill some time because our Uzbek visa was not starting for 5 days. We headed off across the endless flat steppe, happy to be in Dino, with no agenda to chase and enough food, water and fuel to be self sufficient until we crossed.

By now the road was almost impassable in an ordinary car, and we were relieved to be in Dino, although our average speed dropped down to 20 kms an hour. We drove for long days, but had beautiful evenings watching the sun go down as we drank a beer or wine, eating beautiful home cooked for - we were now living the long envisaged dream and were truly happy.

Sudden Text

We were enjoying slow meander to Uzbekistan, when out of the blue we got a text message from Russ - he was holed up in an Uzbek hospital across the border with either petrol poisoning, salmonella or biggirlsblousitis. He spoke no Russian, and was having trouble understanding why he was being given an hourly enema. There was no choice for us - we would have to try and cross the border early and save him from the ravages of the Uzbek health system. So off we went.

 

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