Monthly Archives: August 2011

Visiting 39°N, 47°E

The reason for fighting my way up and down the hills here in northern Iran is simple. It’s the hunt for first-time degree confluence visits. 39°N, 48°E from two days ago was easy. 39°N, 47°E today would require a little more effort.

39°N, 47°E is located approx. 15km north of the town of Kaleybar, as the crow flies, and approx. 3km east of the river Kaleybar, which also flows through the town of the same name. The area is pretty much uninhabited and not very inviting. My research has shown that there is a track along the river that I could probably use up to a little tributary which I would then follow for a while before heading into the wilderness to the degree confluence.

There is actually a road being built along the river and the first 10km are already finished. Somewhere along the way a massive rock and lots of debris had fallen from a cliff above the road and was barring it, but people were already cleaning up. I cycled another 10km to the little tributary. It was dry and I cycled a few hundred meters in its bed. Then I left the bike behind and began hiking the final 3km to the confluence.

The landscape is very hilly, with many little (now dried-up) streams having cut valleys in between the hills. I tried to follow those valleys as much as possible at first, but eventually had to climb. Vegetation consists mostly of dry grass, thistles, and little thorny shrubs, with the odd little tree thrown in. 39°N, 47°E is located on the northern slope of one of the higher hills, almost at the top. The views are just grand.

The return to the bike was easy. A peculiarly shaped hilltop served as a guide and from up there near the confluence I had a great overview and could devise the best way so that I could avoid climbing into the valleys.

After cycling back to Kaleybar I celebrated the successful confluence visit with a hearty dinner.

Why do I visit these confluences in the first place? Fame, of course! :) And also, I get to see regions I wouldn’t see otherwise. Without DCP I would have gone on a more direct route from Astara to Tabriz, missing out on all the rural loveliness.

Not everything here in Iran is good, of course. I don’t like how women are treated. Back at Araf’s in Razi, I got to see his wife only for a minute when she had to program the washing machine. The rest of my stay she was tucked away in the bedroom or at friends’ or I-dunno-where.
The other annoying thing is the dresscode for men. Having to wear long pants all the time is just crap.
And also, people here seem to have a complete misinformed view on Hitler. I’ve been told a number of times by Iranians (including one police officer) that he was “a good man”. (Disclaimer: I don’t share this view.) I can only guess where that kind of ‘education’ comes from…
Oh, and then there is the annoying habit of using the world as a big trash bin – but that’s not in any way exclusive to Iran.

Cycled: 39km
Hiked: 6km

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Qarah Aghej – Kaleybar

Before they let me go, the guys at the Red Crescent station insisted on cooking breakfast for me, gave me some canned supplies, and then showed me to the junction where I had to leave the main road (some 5km down the road).

From there it was 35km to Abash Ahmed, and 100km to Kaleybar, today’s destination.

A couple of kilometers before Abash Ahmed an older gentleman pulled me up a couple of steep hills with his car and got me some cold water in a small village at a friend’s place.

Later, when I arrived in Abash Ahmed, a guy was waiting for me at the edge of the town and escorted me on his motorcycle to the shop of the man who’d pulled me up those hills earlier. He’s a jewellery dealer, and he and a few friends fed me with cold drinks, bread, fries, salad, kebap, and – mayonnaise! How awesome was that?! (The mayonnaise, I mean.) They also offered me a place to stay but I wanted to make it to Kaleybar today.

35km from Kaleybar I had used up all my energy for the day – the road zigzagged its way up and down so many hills… – and I hitched a ride on an old truck. We arrived in Kaleybar after nightfall.

The Red Crescent people in Qarah Aghej had told me to head to the Red Crescent station in Kaleybar for a place to sleep. So I asked around for directions. Information varied and the whole thing snowballed so that I was brought to various places and people, including the police, an IT shop, and a tourist guide/translator/taxi driver who spoke excellent English but didn’t even know what the Red Crescent was – to no avail.

I’m staying in a cheapish hotel now.

Cycled: 72km
Hitched: 35km
Top speed: 69kph

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Razi – 39N48E – Qarah Aghej

Back in Baku, Heather, Stuart, Michael and me had talked about trip themes.

By going to the Caspian Sea, Michael had finished his quest to visit the lowest points on each continent. Stuart is fly-fishing in every country they come through (and of course has to catch a fish, too).

What’s the theme of my trip? Does it have a theme? Does it need one?
Maybe collecting ESC stars’ autographs, but with just one success story that’s hardly a theme, eh? Confluence points? Only failures so far. Oh, wait, there is 39°N, 48°E waiting to be visited! At least that would be a (late) start.

39°N, 48°E is located approx. 40km north of Razi, just 300m off the road connecting Ardabil and Germi, which also goes through Razi. The countryside up there is still very hilly. It all looks very dry, but on a second look one sees that much of the area is used for agriculture. It probably rains much more during the spring. Now, however, all the crops have been harvested and in the villages the straw piles reach high.

Anyway, back to 39°N, 48°E. Getting there wasn’t as spectacular as getting to 42°N, 46°E back in Georgia. I left the bike at the roadside and hasted down a slope across a harvested field – still 200m to go, then across another, steeper field – still 100m to go, then across steep, semi-desert, with cliffs falling down into a gorge below at the not-so-far end. Luckily, the confluence didn’t make me climb down those cliffs. I hit the spot somewhere on that deserty land. I snapped a number of photos as required by confluence.org and climbed up that hill back to my bike. And on I went to Germi. Pretty unspectacular, really.

Germi looks like a buzzing town, situated on a hill-side, with two pretty mosques with golden roofs and minarets. I stopped at an open restaurant and met a guy there who spoke decent English. Unfortunately, I didn’t ask for his name. He gave me all kinds of good advice. He asked about my plans for the night and even offered me a place to sleep – unfortunately in Ardabil. He then suggest I camp near a station of the Iranian Red Crescent, for safety reasons, he said, so we went to their local branch and he asked them to phone the station in Qarah Aghej, some 50km to the west on my route. They gave their ok.

I arrived there at quarter to 8pm and was welcomed with a shower, dinner, and a place to sleep. Iran rocks.

Cycled: 104km
Top speed: 77kph

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Namin – Razi

Hm, visiting 39°N, 48°E was planned for today, right? Well, maybe tomorrow (I’ll stop announcing stuff now).

So I left Namin at maybe half past 11am, after being invited to breakfast (refused) and tea (accepted) by the guy running the hotel. 39°N, 48°E is very close to a road leading to the town of Germi, approx. 100 kilometers to the north. The main road turns south first, towards Ardabil. Clever as I am, I found a shortcut on my maps. So I cycled along on quiet and hilly backroads, to the north, parallel to the Azerbaijani border. Or so I thought.

After maybe 25 kilometers I was stopped by a border guard, off-duty, and his friends. No English was spoken but what I understood was that I was on the wrong road, going towards Azerbaijan. I thought myself cleverer than the locals, of course, and insisted on going on, expecting the road to turn northwards later on. Eventually we’d built up enough misunderstandings that they let me go.

At kilometer 30 I had a look at the GPS and noticed that I was indeed way off of my intended direction and wasn’t very far from the border anymore. A local on his motorcycle offered to escort me back to a road that would get me further north. He led me through a village or two before saying good bye. I’d just have to follow the track to the main road, he said.

Not long thereafter I was stopped by two border guards on a motorcycle, this time on duty and armed. Hrmpf. I hadn’t done anything wrong and they were friendly and all, but it still took an hour and a look into my bags, numerous phone calls to their superiors, thorough passport checks, and a number of apologies from them before they escorted me to the next shop in a village a few kilometers down the road. There the chief ordered a sheet of paper for himself and a snack for me, and wrote down a page-long report, that I had so sign. Then they sent me off with directions on how to get to Germi.

It was late in the afternoon and still 70km to Germi, so I stopped in Razi at a barber’s shop and asked about possibilities for sleeping. There were no official ones, but one of the guys hanging out there invited me to his place.

We had chicken shashlik bbq after nightfall with him and two of his friends, one of which teaches English at a local highschool. Great, friendly guys.

Tomorrow will be another exciting day. I’ll try my luck on visiting another unvisited degree confluence, 39°N, 48°E.
Déjà vu?

Cycled: 67km

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Lənkəran – Namin

The longer I stay in a place, the more difficult it becomes to leave. Budapest, Pančevo, Batumi, Tbilisi, Baku, and now Lənkəran – without a little outside incentive I’d probably still be there.

Today’s incentive was the wish to finally make it to Iran! And a bit of boredom. Anyway, Iran, Persia!

Before leaving Azerbaijan there was a tiny bit of sightseeing to do, and a bit of cycling, of course. It’s about 40km from Lənkəran to the border town of Astara. Just outside Astara, in a village called Ərçivan, one can find Yanar Bulag, the Burning Spring. Rumor has it that the water from that spring is both drinkable and flammable! And I crap you not when I say that the rumor is true! I held a lighter to the water and it burned! There is no magic involved here, unfortunately. The water simply contains methane, somehow.

On to the border. In my head I went through my checklist again:

  • Passport and visa – check
  • Cash! There are no ATMs in Iran that I can use with my cards due to the American trade embargo – semi-check. I’d withdrawn half of my somewhat exaggerated budget in Lənkəran yesterday, and then had forgotten to get the other half today. Found an ATM in Astara – check
  • No alcohol in my bags. Import is forbidden. All the cool folks in the hostel in Baku had helped me finish that bottle of Georgian brandy I was carrying since Akhalsopeli – check
  • No pork products in my bags. Import is forbidden. Holy crap, no check. Hadn’t I just bought half a kilogram of sausages containing pork? No thinkie-thinkie, eh?!
  • Thumbs taped to the palms of my hands – no check, need them for cycling. Rumor, again, has it that the thumbs-up gesture which I so fluently use is in fact Iran’s equivalent to the ‘western’ middle finger gesture we all know so well.

To my slight disappointment, this crossing was as straight forward as all the other crossings before. “Welcome to Iran”, the smiling border guard said, and there I was, in Astara. Yeah, same name, different town (even though I bet it was the same one once), different country.

Went to a money changer and became millionaire by handing him a US$100 bill. I was now walking around with 58 Iranian banknotes of 20000 Rials each. That’s 1.16 million Rials.

Grocery shops were open. Looks like I’ll have no problems buying food during the day if necessary, despite Ramadan.

I left Astara to the west, and cycled into the Talysh mountains. And mountains they were. The road climbed pretty much all the time – from Caspian Sea level (approx. -27m) to a pass/tunnel at about 1600m. Hard work, I can tell you. When I left the tunnel the sun had set.

I’m in Namin now. Two guys from a shop next door watched my bike while I checked out the hotel for the night. When I came back they’d attached a flower to the handlebar. “Welcome to Iran”, they said.

Tomorrow will be another exciting day. I’ll try my luck on visiting another unvisited degree confluence, 39°N, 48°E.

Cycled: 106km

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Lənkəran

Yesterday’s fit is gone and forgotten. ;) I’m hanging out in Lənkəran for the time being, mostly to avoid as much of the Iranian (Muslim, really) month of Ramadan as possible. Even though travelers (and non-Muslims, of course) are exempt from observing the fasting rules, restaurants are closed during the day and eating and drinking in public are frowned upon (if not worse). Azerbaijanis don’t seem to care about Ramadan too much.

August 14 is the latest possible date of entry on my visa. Ramadan will end on August 29 this year, and my Iranian visa is valid for 20 days. I would like to witness at least the first day of the month following Ramadan, Shawwal, called Eid ul-Fitr. Eid ul-Fitr is a three-day holiday celebrating the completion of the one-month fasting.

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Ələt + 4km – Lənkəran

I’m growing a bit annoyed by (some) people’s habits here in Azerbaijan. Their driving is reckless and outright dangerous with no consideration for others, the honking is nerve-wrecking, and their inquisitiveness and doubtfulness is close to being rude. People just walk up to my table at a restaurant and pick up my phone to look at it, or they take my sunglasses off of my head to try them on themselves, and a police or security dude took my bike for a test ride while I was busy asking for directions elsewhere. It appears all this is much worse south of Baku. Or maybe I’m just less tolerant today for some reason.

The weather is awesome, however. It is again overcast and I have a nice tail wind. At noon I’d already done the first 100km.

Tried to get some food at a restaurant. Knowing about the (small) size of the portions I ordered three of them, but couldn’t make myself understood properly. People thought I was trying to haggle down the price. Didn’t get much to eat and had to pay more than was quoted originally. Left frustrated and hungry.

Many kilometers and a few hours (as well as a few edits) later…

Ok, I wrote the above after my failed lunch. Meanwhile, almost 100km further down south I’ve calmed down again. Of course, the honking went on during the day, and the driving skills haven’t improved, either. However, I’ve met a couple of nice people (one even drove me around Lənkəran in his Lada helping me find a hotel with Wi-Fi), I have a comfortable-enough place to stay at, and I just had a filling dinner in a simple restaurant where staff spoke Russian and understood that I need more than one portion.

The countryside down here is green again and flat. I’ve crossed the central plains and am now in the Lənkəran lowlands, bordering the Talysh mountains to the west.

Oh, and I had my first dog fight today. Had to kick it in the face to make it leave.

Word of the day: Super-Mini-Market (As seen on a shop near Salyan.)

Question of the month: “Do you work for the post?” (Asked by a couple of young mothers chatting me up when I was confusedly looking for a place to stay in Lənkəran.)

Cycled: 197km (Yupp, leaving early, good winds, and desperately wanting to leave Azerbaijan soon worked together quite well.)

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Baku – Ələt + 4km

Stuart and me went out again last night. Heather rang at 2am telling us that she’d gotten word from their boat, it would leave soon.
So we said good bye a little later. Good times, great people, unfortunately leaving Europe. Schniefschnuff.

After few hours of sleep I packed my stuff, said good bye to Michael, and left the hostel at noon.

I had a great tail wind today and rode southward with 30-40kph. Stopped in Qobustan to have a look at the petroglyphs and Roman grafitti there. The former are from various centuries and between 2000 and 20000 years old. The latter is the easternmost Roman inscription found to date.

I also visited the mud vulcanos near Ələt. Tiny little mini vulcanos spitting mud. Funny to look at.

Asked at a road side kafe/restauran for permission to pitch my tent in their backyard. Got invited to scrambled eggs and tea, and was questioned about all kinds of aspects of my life. People’s inquisitiveness is getting a bit annoying and tiring.

Throughout the day’s riding I had a gut feeling that was a mix of being hungry and feeling lonely.

Cycled: 97km
Top speed: 74kph

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Baku

Baku is a strange place. It has a grandly built city center, but there just don’t seem to be that many people around to justify that. At night some folks stroll along the boulevard at the Caspian, but the city center itself and its many pubs and bars are almost deserted, even on a Friday night. Maybe it’s due to summer heat and holiday time that people have moved to cooler regions (where would that be, though?) of the country. However, on top of the general lack of people I’m noticing a severe deficit in females. An effect of the conservative nature of this society, I guess.

There are also almost no foreign travelers here, as far as I could see. People’s staring is not as obtrusive as in Georgia.

However strange Baku itself may be, I’m having a great time here with Micheal from the States, and Heather and Stu, the moving-to-New-Zealand-by-bicycle couple, and various short-timers in the hostel.

Michael has just finished his mission of visiting the lowest points on each continent, and will be flying back home on Monday, and Heather and Stu will catch a boat to Kazakhstan tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, insh’allah. I myself will leave the posh-looking capital of Azerbaijan tomorrow, if I’m spared. I’ll be heading south towards Iran. Unfortunately, I’ve not met anyone here who could help me meet the Azerbaijani ESC contestants/winners.

Word of the day: matutinal (dt.: morgendlich). None of the above native English speakers knew it (neither did I). :)

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Novxanı Beach – Baku

We started cycling at noon today, and with a slight hang-over. Though the swim in the Caspian in the morning was good.

Before going to Baku proper we wanted to do some sightseeing on the Abseron peninsula on which both Sumqayit and Baku are located. The peninsula is rich in natural oil and gas reserves. There are two places that were of particular interest to us. The first was Yanar Dag, where gas streams out from the earth. It was ignited accidentally by a shepherd’s cigarette in the 1950’s, they say, and has been burning ever since. The place is now labeled “State Historic Culture and Natural Preserve” and an entrance fee of 2 manat is charged. The guards made up for that by inviting us to a glass of tea.

The second sight is called Ashtagah, the fire temple. It was built by Indian Shiva devotees in the 18th century, but was sacred to Zoroastrians for much longer. It is also located at a natural gas vent, however that reserve has run dry and is now connected to Baku’s main gas supply.

The ride from Yanar Dag to Ashtagah led us through the semi-desert of the Abseron peninsula, with oil fields and the ubiquitous nodding-donkey oil pumps everywhere, oil ‘lakes’, salt lakes and decrepit settlements. Quite an uninviting place.

We reached Baku from the east, on a crowded highway. The city is entirely different from all the other Azerbaijani cities I’ve seen so far. It is an actual city. Huge buildings, many in a neo-Persian style.

The hostel we’re now in is tucked away in the Old Town, awesomely located in a backyard off a tiny alley. Guess who’s here? Heather and Stuart, the cycling couple I’d met briefly in Akhalsopeli a week or so ago.

Cycled: 69km

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Almost Şamaxı – Novxani Beach

The sky was overcast again this morning. We were just getting up when a few vineyard workers arrived. They started their working day watching us packing our stuff.

Today we wanted to reach Baku – almost. That is, since it was likely going to be late at night when we arrive there, we wanted to stay somewhere outside the city to have a relaxed day arriving in the capital tomorrow.

About 40km from Baku the road descended in a long turn down towards the Caspian plain, and we could see the city of Sumqayit and the Caspian Sea in the not-so-far distance. It was a magic sight and we decided to go to Sumqayit, or rather a beach near that city, instead of Baku. The Dutch tourists I’d met in Şəki had told me that it was a nice place.

We rode through Baku’s and Sumqayit’s suburbs and judging from the traffic and the amount of houses it became clear that we wouldn’t find a secluded, quiet beach there.

It was indeed, of course, crowded. A hotel and disco nearby. No way we could camp there conveniently. What’s the major difference between an Azerbaijani beach and a European one? The (almost) lack of women and girls. Azerbaijanis may have a comparatively relaxed attitude towards religion, but they’re still conservative.

Well, we spent some time there anyway, had water melon, went for a refreshing swim, and got invited by a bunch of off-duty police officers to bread and cheese and tomatoes and German Eierlikör.

Eventually we checked into a hotel directly at the beach. There’s a disco there, too, and we wanted to check out the local party scene. The bouncer asked us politely to pay 10 manat entrance fee each (a bit less than 10 Euro), which we politely refused, thinking that was the ‘tourist price’. That almost put an end to our first Azerbaijani party experience. We were almost gone when the bouncer called us back and we were granted free entry. And so we met Azer, friends with the bouncer, hairdresser from Sumqayit, who’d put in a good word for us without us even noticing at first.

He’s of Dagestani descent and offered to help us with anything in Baku, Sumqayit or Azerbaijan. I asked about the Azerbaijani ESC contestants, but he doesn’t know them and can’t help me get an autograph. :( We learned that life is not easy for gay people in Azerbaijan, but he and his (male and female) friends had fun that night anyway. And we did, too.

Cycled: 137km

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Nic – almost Şamaxı

We got up kind of late – the sun hadn’t woken us up, the sky was overcast.

Anyway, the day was a hot one already, and the thin layer of clouds disappeared soon.

I haven’t counted yet, but I think I drink about 7 to 10 liters of water per day now.

At some rest stop a guy told us that he’d seen three other cyclists going in the opposite direction today. However, we must have missed them somehow (how?).

We hitched a ride hanging on to the back of a slow truck to get up a particularly nasty hill.

We stopped about 3 kilometers from Şamaxı in a hamlet without name. The place consisted mostly of a restaurant, two shops and about three houses. Had dinner there and then retreated to a vineyard where we pitched our tents.

Cycled: 106km

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