Update October 2018

Countries visited: Tajikistan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Iran

Cycled mileage in October: 1,136.1km
Cycled mileage per country: 260.4km Tajikistan, 428.8km Uzbekistan, 49.3km Turkmenistan, 397.6km Iran
Total cycled mileage incl. October: 43,202.5km
October mileage not cycled 827.7km (Taxi, Train, Bus)

Days per country: 5d - Tajikistan, 16d - Uzbekistan, 4d - Turkmenistan, 6d - Iran
Days cycling: 18d

Technical failures: 3 Punctures, 1 Shifting Cable, 1 Valve Core

Link to this month's route

Last month we had finished cycling the Pamir Highway and had reached the Tajik capital Dushanbe. After a bit of a rough patch recovering from a stomach flu and after fixing up our bicycles we were ready to leave Dushanbe on October 1st.
We got a super late start. Before setting off we met with Adela and Kris, the Polish couple we had been cycling with last month. We had lunch in a cafe and only at 2pm we finally got on our bikes and left Dushanbe together. There would be more than 2,000 metres climbing ahead to reach the top of Anzob pass. We knew we wouldn't get up there within one day anyway. So we had decided to just tackle the first half of it today. Even though the road kept climbing constantly it was easy cycling with very gentle gradients, a smooth road and a wide enough shoulder. When the sun set we found a nice camping spot between farmhouses on the bench of the river we had been following most of the way. We set up camp and kept chatting until late.

Farewell Dushanbe!

Back into the mountains

Even though we were camped next to the river we had a good rest. The noises from the river blocked out the sound of the nearby road and the temperatures were pleasantly warm. We got up with sunrise and as most days we didn't leave before 9am. Adela and Kris have a similar routine and it felt good not having to rush having breakfast and packing up. For the first part of the day the road continued with gentle gradients but unfortunately with not much of a rideable shoulder. To make things worse there was an abundance of tunnels to be tackled. Most of them were just a few dozen metres long and designed to protect the road from rockslides. But there were also two longer ones. The first would be just under one kilometre long and the second tunnel on the top of the pass would be five kilometres in length. We were dreading even the short tunnels. There was a lot of heavy traffic and unfortunately most Central Asian drivers don't care about cyclists, traffic rules and consideration. Wherever we could we took the old and often unpaved road that went around those tunnels. When we reached the second-longest tunnel and started pushing our bikes over the gravel road that led around the tunnel, Dominik's rear tyre went flat. It took a while to fix the puncture and to find the small wire that had caused it. Eventually we reached the other entrance of the tunnel and elected for an early lunch break. From the spot where we had lunch we could already see the start of the steep climb ahead. When we got back on the bikes after lunch it felt like someone had turned on the heat. And the headwind of course. It was a slog cycling uphill. The trucks kept speeding past us and the sun was scorching down. Not only did the road get seriously steep, also the tunnels got longer and longer and some of them didn't have an old road leading around them. The 5-kilometres long tunnel on top of the pass was dubbed the 'Tunnel of Death' for being so narrow and for its lack of illumination and ventilation. There would be no way we would cycle it. We stopped at the last stopping bay before the tunnel entrance to hitch a ride. The first minivan stopped. Soon later all four bikes were loaded into the back of the van and off we went. Actually the tunnel totally deserved its name. The illumination was poor to say the least and the fumes were so bad that there was a dense cloud of smog escaping from the tunnel entrances. The van dropped us at the first stopping bay after the tunnel. It felt like a different world. The landscape had gone from relatively green to dusty brown. The temperature had also gone down notably and we were keen to lose some altitude so the night would be less chilly. Wouldn't it have been for the heaps of trucks speeding past us it would have been an enjoyable downhill. Eventually the steep descent ended and we passed a dusty village where we did our shopping. After that village we kept following a river. Just when the sun set the river valley got a bit wider and there was a restaurant with an adjacent orchard. We asked at the restaurant and were allowed to pitch our tents between the apple trees.

Tunnels on the way up Anzob Pass

Village after Anzob Tunnel

The camping spot was excellent, still it wasn't a good night. Dominik came down with pretty bad diarrhoea. There was a small town with a hotel about 35 kilometres down the road and the next morning we decided it would be our best bet to go there rather than staying at our camping spot. It took a while until the anti-diarrhoea and nausea pills showed effect but eventually Dominik felt good enough to go on. Pace was slow but at least the river gorge we followed was spectacular. In the late afternoon we reached the hotel. Adela and Kris decided to carry on to a camping spot about 15 kilometres further on while Dominik spent the rest of the day in bed.

Spectacular river gorge

The next morning Dominik felt much better and his appetite was back. We got a late start but made good progress. The road was still spectacular and the closer we got to the Uzbek border the less traffic there was. Around lunchtime we had finally caught up to the Polish. They were sat in an orchard next to the road and chatted with two French cyclists they had met. We joined the group and inevitably kept chatting until late afternoon. We saw off the French who were going the other direction and then we carried on. We didn't get far given the late lunch break. There was village after village and no sheltered camping spot to be found. In the end we asked at a roadside restaurant whether we could pitch our tent in the adjacent fields. The owner insisted we should sleep in his house instead but he smelled heavily like vodka and so we refused kindly. Eventually he agreed to let us camp in the fields. We all thought the loud music from the restaurant or the traffic on the nearby road would keep us up all night but we slept surprisingly well.

The last hills in Tajikistan

The next morning we hit the road at the usual time of 9am. The road was smooth and mostly flat. We could have made it across the Uzbek border easily but we decided it would be better to split the remaining kilometres to Samarkand into two days. We faffed about and just before sunset we found ourselves less than 10 kilometres from the border in an area with lots of orchards and vineyards. Just when we started looking for a camping spot, Simon's front tyre went flat. We fixed the puncture on the side of the road and then cycled on for a few minutes. We stopped when we saw a truck loaded with grapes. The harvesting was still going on in the nearby fields. The driver of the truck started chatting with us and gave us a bunch of grapes each. We took our chance and asked whether we could pitch our tents in the fields. Naturally he insisted to invite us home but in the end he accepted our decision to camp. We pitched our tents between some cherry trees while a bunch of children squatted around us watching us. Eventually the children went home and we enjoyed another evening exchanging travel stories.

Camping in an orchard

The next morning was Dominik's 30th birthday. There was talking about celebrating in Samarkand later that day. For now a Snickers bar with candles had to do. We still managed to get an early start and made it to the border by 10am. Getting stamped out of Tajikistan was a hassle-free affair. We had been dreading the supposedly thorough checks on the Uzbek side but actually things were equally hassle-free. There were some money changers after the border gates but the rate they offered was so bad we couldn't be bothered to exchange our remaining Tajik Somoni into Uzbek Sum. We cycled on for a bit and with about 30 kilometres to go to Samarkand we stopped for a lunch break. It was a rather unusual lunch with all of us throwing in the left-overs of the supplies we had bought in Dushanbe. We ended up with stale bread, pasta with oil, tomatoes and garlic plus a coffee to wash it all down. We all felt a bit lazy but eventually we had to get going. The road was rather narrow and bumpy with a lot of traffic and we were glad when we finally reached town. We briefly stopped to take some pictures at the Registan, the most famous landmark of Samarkand.
With accommodation ridiculously expensive Adela and Kris had suggested we might ask whether we all could stay at the Polish church. We went there, were received by the bishop himself and surprisingly they agreed to leave us a meeting room in one of the buildings where we could sleep on the floor. Initially they had only agreed to have us for one night. After the bishop had left Adela and Kris talked to a Franciscan Brother in Polish and we were told we could stay for two nights. We were genuinely surprised about the generosity and trustfulness.
We relaxed for a bit, prepared our beds but then the hunger set in. As it was Dominik's birthday we decided to treat ourselves to a pizza. The first restaurant we found didn't serve pizza but they sent us to another place where they said we would get the best pizza in town. That other place was actually super busy but we secured a table and were pleased with the affordable prices. A 40cm-pizza was only about 3 USD! We had a fun evening indulging in some solid pizza (quality-wise it certainly didn't make it into our Top10), some cold beers and good conversations. We left the restaurant just after sunset and strolled to the Registan. Not only is the Registan illuminated amazingly also the tickets are discounted in the evening. The guards had told us the the lights would remain on until 9pm but actually they went out at 8.30 when we were just about to explore the last part of the complex. We complained and they turned the lights back on. The night guard was eager to practise his English and even showed us around for free. While all the other visitors were led to the exits, we were still walking around and unexpectedly enjoying our private tour! The night guard even opened the door to another yard for us. Usually it would be open for the public but all day they had been shooting a music video in there. Suddenly we found ourselves in the middle of the film crew. We kept chatting for a while with an actress who spoke excellent English. Then the break ended and while they resumed filming we left the Registan.
What. A. Great. Day.

Dominik's 30th birthday

Snickers instead of a cake

At the famous Registan

Pizza!!!

Exploring...

...the famous...

...Registan...

...at night

According to the forecast the summer weather was supposed to end over night. In fact we woke up to pouring rain and temperatures around 10°C the next morning. We couldn't be bothered to do anything outdoors and went to a cafe where we spent most of the day using their free WiFi and enjoying the cheap food. Probably not the best of ideas as Adela came down with diarrhoea that night.
The next morning we had to leave our sleeping places in the church and decided to move to a hostel for the next two nights. The Franciscan Brother pitied us. When he heard that we would go to Bukhara next, he invited us to stay with the community there if we would arrive after the next weekend. What an amazing guy! He sent us off and we cycled the short way to the hostel. Our room wasn't ready yet. We left our bikes in the yard and did our shopping in the meanwhile. We also managed to obtain an Uzbek SIM-card and to exchange the last Tajik money. When we returned to the hostel our room was ready. We dumped our bags and Adela went straight to bed. Given the disgusting weather we also opted for staying indoors and kept ourselves busy with admin stuff.
The next morning Adela still didn't feel all too well and stayed in bed. Together with Kris we set off to do some sightseeing. Siob Bazaar, Shah-i-Zinda were among our destinations. When we returned Adela was feeling much better and we figured we would be good to leave the next morning. We also inquired about tourist registration. As a tourist one is supposed to register at a hotel every third night of the stay in the country. There was also a new option to register as an independent traveller. With such a registration we would pay about 1.10 USD tourist tax per day but wouldn't be required to stay in hotels. A perfect solution as we wanted to camp anyway! Unfortunately the help of a hotel was required to do such an independent-traveller registration. The hostel we were staying in tried to add a commission of a whopping 110% to do that. So we went to an upscale hotel nearby instead where they agreed to do this registration for us. Unfortunately they couldn't do it the same day so we would have to go back there on the way out of Samarkand the next morning.

Siob Bazaar

Another section of the bazaar

Ornate tombs...

...at Shah-i-Zinda...

...'The Street of Mausoleums'

We got a very late start the next morning and when we got to that upscale hotel to have our registration completed there was a power outage. Bummer! It was late already so we went to a nearby shop and held our lunch right in a park opposite the hotel. By the time we finished, electricity was back and we finally got our registrations. We got going at 2pm - just to bump into Yuta and Sergei. Back in Mongolia we had cycled with them for a few days and had stayed in touch via email. We knew they were planning to spend the winter in Tashkent and we were kind of disappointed our paths wouldn't cross. The more surprised we were to meet them in Samarkand! Apparently they had decided to make a side trip there before it would be too cold. We kept chatting for a while and by the time we said farewell it was well after 3pm. Surprisingly we still managed to cycle about 30 kilometres. When the sun set we decided to ask at a farmhouse whether we could camp in their fields. We weren't allowed to. The whole family was about to leave for a celebration in town and they told us to stay in their house instead. No way to refuse that offer. Our beds were prepared and food was served and then the family went off. Only two sons and their friends stayed with us and practised their English and Russian on us while we were taught some Uzbek words in return. What a fun evening!

Unexpectedly meeting Yuta and Sergei

Staying with a local family

We got up early the next morning and unexpectedly we were greeted with a delicious breakfast. We also had a good chat with our hosts. We weren't in a rush and neither were our hosts and so we didn't get to leave much earlier than 10am. We had figured that we should spread the about 300 kilometres from Samarkand to Bukhara over 6 days of cycling. Would we be faster we would be too early to take the invitation of the Polish Brother. So for once we had the rather unusual target of aiming for short days. Even though the temperatures were much lower than they were before Dominik's birthday it was still warm enough to hold an extended lunch break. After lunch we were rather lazy and took it slow. By the time we started looking for a camping spot we had done a mere 60 kilometres. Just before we wanted to call it a day a car stopped in front of us. They invited us to stay at their house but from what we understood it was quite far away and so we kindly refused. Instead they gave us a massive sausage as a present and waved enthusiastically when they sent us off. Shortly later we found something like a public healthcare centre in the middle of a huge meadow. We asked whether we could camp on their land and were shown a spot behind the building. It was well sheltered from the road but unfortunately there was no grass. It was rather a corrugated field and so we were given a rake to even the ground a bit. Finally we had pitched the tents and followed our usual routine chatting until it was too cold to sit outside any longer.

Preparing our camping spots

Surprisingly we found our tents covered in condensation the next morning. Well, we weren't in a rush and so we took an extended breakfast and waited until the sun had dried our tents. Off we went and after the bumpy road yesterday we finally reached a stretch of smooth new tarmac. We made good progress and if we wouldn't have actively tried to slow our pace down we could have easily done a 100 kilometres day. But as things stood we held another very looooong lunch break and just generally faffed about. The views didn't change for most of the day. We were either cycling through cotton fields with workers harvesting the cotton or we were cycling through sleepy villages. Actually it looked like quite the challenge to find a good camping spot but just after passing a busy police checkpoint we spotted a construction site next to the road and found shelter behind some gravel piles. The spot wasn't all too great and the noises from the nearby road continued throughout the night.
Probably none of us slept particularly well and we all were a bit tired the next morning. We faffed about a bit more than usual and got going by 10am. We made good progress until a very early lunch break that turned into a very long one. Finally we got going again. Soon later we reached a sizeable town and sorted resupplies. The Polish Brother had told Adela and Kris about a Polish cemetery from the days of WW2 nearby. He didn't explain the precise location but there was only one cemetery on our map so we decided to check it out. We did find the cemetery from the map but none of the locals seemed to know if there were Polish graves on it. When we left the village a car stopped and together with the helpful driver of that car we figured out that we apparently passed the Polish cemetery a few kilometres earlier. Bummer!
We carried on for a bit but the wind picked up and dark clouds turned in. Also the nice, smooth tarmac had ended. We were already looking out for a camping spot when two cyclists stopped on the other side of the road. It turned out they were Polish as well and so they kept chatting for a while with Adela and Kris. It had become seriously cold and windy and the sun was already setting. We were all shivering by the time the Polish cyclists had left. And of course this was the perfect time to struggle finding a camping spot. Eventually we found a sheltered patch of grass and quickly set up the tents. In the wind sheltered camping spot it was actually even warm enough to keep up our routine of chatting until late.

Cotton fields...

...and piles of cotton

When we woke up the next morning it was freezing cold and actually the tents were covered in ice. Not a good timing for Adela to come down with diarrhoea and stomach cramps. It was too cold for an early start anyway. By the time the sun was high enough to warm up our camping spot Adela was feeling a bit better. We slowly continued and reached a small town by midday. We found a restaurant that looked as if it was closed and we asked if we could hold our lunch break on their terrace. We were allowed to and Adela took a nap while we buried our heads in our phones. In the afternoon Adela felt better and we decided to carry on for a bit. The forecast was for a storm the next day so we wanted to get as close to Bukhara as we could. Progress was rather slow. We had changed the busy highway for a secondary road that was even bumpier. When it was about time to set up camp we passed an orchard that looked just perfect. We even found a small driveway and rolled down into the orchard. That was when disaster struck. That part of the orchard must have been flooded recently and after not even ten metres our bikes were covered in thick, sticky mud. It was so bad the wheels blocked completely. We pushed and lifted our bikes back up on the road and were forced to use the last daylight to clean them somewhat. By the time the bikes were about roadworthy again it was pitch-black night. Adela had discovered that only one part of the orchard was mud-wonderland. The other areas were dry. Reluctantly we pushed the bikes back into another part of the orchard and in fact we found an acceptable camping spot.

Historic cistern along the way

Cleaning the bikes from mud

We were expecting to find the tents covered in condensation but they were completely dry the next morning. The wind had picked up slightly during the night and that had probably helped matters. The weather didn't look like the forecasted storm was about to start. Still we didn't really trust the peace. We got our earliest start in quite a while and the closer we got towards Bukhara the more threatening the sky looked. Luckily the road improved at the same time so we still made good progress. We stopped for a bit of sightseeing at the Naqshbandi Memorial Complex. Apparently Naqshbandi was something like an Islamic saint and his mausoleum is considered one of the holiest Muslim pilgrimage sites in Central Asia. We strolled around for a bit but the weather was so unpleasant that we didn't stay as long as we wanted to. Instead we continued to the church where we were supposed to meet the Polish Brother. We briefly stopped for some shopping in what was probably the biggest supermarket since Almaty. Eventually we reached the church. We were warmly welcomed and were given two rooms in a wing of the church building. Surprisingly everything was brand new and there was still construction work on the roof of the church. We even had a basic kitchen and a bathroom with a hot shower. What else could we ask for?! The rest of the day was spent relaxing and indulging in the treats we had bought at the supermarket earlier.

Impressions of Naqshbandi...

...Memorial Complex

We slept in the next morning and then we went for a walk through the historic centre of Bukhara. First stop was the Lyab-i Hauz with its adjacent mosques and madrasas. On we went through the old streets with their historic buildings. Much of the old town was restored but some parts were yet to be polished up and they offered an interesting glimpse of what Bukhara might have looked like back in the days. We elected to not visit the so called Ark, the royal court, as we found it a bit overpriced. Instead we slowly walked back. On the way we found a stall selling fresh samsas filled with pumpkin – delicious!

Madrasa in Bukhara

Lyab-i Hauz

Restored old town...

...and the authentic parts of it

More impressions of the old town

View onto the old town

Yard of a madrasa

Fresh samsas

The next day was a lazy day. We slept late, chatted and tried to get some of the chores done that we all had on our respective lists. Doing laundry, servicing the bikes and planning the route ahead. After dinner we sat down together to have a movie evening. And that was when things went awry. While the movie started we received a message from our friend Valentina. We two had applied for our Uzbek e-visas together with her so we had the same dates on our visas. Now she told us that her hotel in Samarkand had sent her to the border as her visa was expiring this night. We checked our visas and in fact the wording was that our visas would be 'valid until' today. We had been among the first to apply for the new Uzbek e-visa so there was not much of experience so far but at three different occasions we had been reassured that the validity date would just be the date until which you would have to enter Uzbekistan. Even when entering on the last date of validity one would be allowed to stay 30 days in the country. After Valentina's message we weren't quite sure what the actual situation with our visas was. The border south of Bukhara was already closed for the night so there was no point in leaving the country immediately anyway. We decided to go to the border tomorrow first thing.

Community centre...

...and our sleeping places

Long story short: We went to the border and were told that our visas had actually expired the day before. They refused to let us leave the country and sent us back to Bukhara to apply for an exit visa at the immigration office. We were lucky to have the help of the Polish Brother, a retired German interpreter and a lady from the immigration office. Still it took 2.5 days until we finally received the exit visas.
What. A. Hassle.
We received the exit visas on Saturday and would have to leave before Tuesday. We decided to attend the 'Day of the City of Bukhara' festival on Saturday afternoon, cycle to the border on Sunday and cross into Turkmenistan Monday morning.

Uzbek exit visa

The festival was nice but after all the hassle with the immigration office it was a bit difficult to calm down and enjoy the folk dances that were performed on different places throughout the old town.

Performance in Bukhara old town

Decoration for the festival

On Sunday we got an early start. Leaving the city was annoying as is leaving all bigger cities. Also the road was rather bumpy and narrow. At least the weather was friendly and there wasn't much wind. After all we made good progress and despite a relatively generous lunch break we reached the border area by late afternoon. The actual border post was still about 5 kilometres away but there was a stretch of lonely desert where we hoped to find a good camping spot. We actually did in the end but it was an agonising task. Wherever there was a sheltered spot the ground would be covered with spiky plants. Eventually we found a spot with almost no vegetation. To get there we had to push the bikes through deep, soft sand. By the time we had pitched our tents it was pitch black night. We quickly prepared dinner and then went to bed early. It had been a long day.

So long, Bukhara!

We got a very early start the next morning. Thankfully it wasn't too cold and we had packed up quickly. Despite the early hour there was already a kilometres-long line of trucks waiting. We cycled past them and reached the Uzbek border post just after 8am. There were lots of reports about extensive luggage checks but the customs officers soon lost interest after they had scanned through some of our dirty laundry. After not even an hour we were on the Turkmen side of the border. They didn't have much interest in our belongings but having the actual visas stuck into our passport took a while. We had arrived with just an official visa grant notice that could be converted into a visa right at the border. At 10am we hit the road again. Together with the Polish we cycled to the next town, Turkmenabat. We bought stuff for lunch in a small supermarket and then had an early lunch break in a public park nearby. After that we said farewell to Adela and Kris. They would cycle all the way through Turkmenistan and take the east-most border crossing to Iran. We would take a train from Turkmenabat to the Turkmen capital Ashgabat and cycle from there into Iran.
After seeing the Polish off we cycled back into the city centre of Turkmenabat and found ourselves a nice hotel. After a short break we went to the train station and secured two tickets for the night train the next day 8pm. After all the hassle in Uzbekistan we felt like taking a break and spent the rest of the evening in our hotel room.

Square in Turkmenabat

We slept late the next morning and checked out as late as possible. Disappointingly there wasn't anything in terms of touristic sights in Turkmenabat. So we decided to pass the hours until the departure of our train in a cafe near the train station. We managed to get some admin stuff done and left the cafe at 4.30pm. Our train would only leave at 8pm but we were told to check in the bikes at the luggage department before 5pm. When we got there and showed our train tickets a very unfriendly lady told us that our train wouldn't have a luggage compartment today. We went back to the ticket office. There we were told that the train at 5pm would have a luggage compartment. We received new tickets and ran back to the luggage office. The unfriendly lady there was shouting once more at us but luckily the lady from the ticket office had followed us and helped us to get the payment sorted. With only 10 minutes until the departure of the train we sped to the luggage compartment at the end of the train. We lifted our bikes into the train and hoped the guys there would secure them appropriately. There was no time to make sure they would. The conductor was hectically waving towards us and so we ran to the closest door and boarded the train. We had a four-bed compartment. For the first half of the ride we shared the compartment with an English teacher so there was a bit of conversation until it was time to go to sleep. The teacher left in the middle of the night and her place was taken by an elderly woman.

On the night train to Ashgabat

After all we got a fair bit of sleep and felt refreshed when we arrived in Ashgabat just after 7am the next morning. We rushed to the luggage compartment at the other end of the train and miraculously our bikes had survived the train ride without any obvious damage. From the train station we cycled directly to a hotel that by all accounts was supposed to be the cheapest in town. There's a booming black market in Turkmenistan where Dollars can be changed for extremely good rates. Hence everything that can be paid in local currency is ridiculously cheap. Unfortunately hotels generally expect to be paid in Dollars. Our hotel was no exception and the price of 54 USD was in deed very steep particularly given how dirty and run-down the room was. At least they allowed us to check in early so we had the rest of the day to do some sightseeing. We spent most of the day exploring the area around the Independence Square. There are heaps of governmental buildings, all of which are massive white marble structures. It's a weird world that is solely made to impress. Except for some maintenance crews there were no people about. We kept walking around and soaking in this strange picture of a deserted white marble city. Unfortunately there is a pretty strict ban on taking pictures of governmental buildings in Turkmenistan so we cannot really provide a lot of photographs – sorry! After a visit of Lenin Park and a rather taste-free pizza in a nearby restaurant we returned to our shabby hotel room. We bought a bottle of local beer from our last Turkmen Manats and relaxed for the rest of the evening. Our transit visa would be valid for two more days but we decided to leave the country the next day. The day after would be a Friday and there was no official information whether the Iranian border would be open at all on Fridays.

White marble...

...empty squares...

...statues of the president...

...welcome to Ashgabat!

Last beer in Turkmenistan

We managed to get an early start the next morning. Yesterday we hadn't explored the Berzengi quarter of Ashgabat – another weird creation of white marble and general emptiness. We knew we would cycle past it today and so we did. We had a superficial look at the attractions of Independence Park. Namely of the golden statue of Turkmenistan's former president Turkmenbashi. Before his death a few years ago Turkmenbashi's statue would revolve throughout the day so it would always face the sun. From Berzengi we continued through the outskirts of the capital and finally reached the foot of the mountains that form the border with Iran. About 20 kilometres outside Ashgabat we reached a checkpoint. For the remaining 30 kilometres to the actual border we had to get on a bus – Bummer! Despite the uphill it looked like a nice road to cycle but police didn't give us a choice. As soon as we reached the actual border a Turkmen guard asked us for a bribe. He repeated the word 'Dollar' constantly. We pretended we didn't understand and again and again showed him our customs declaration on which we had declared all our cash. Eventually the guy gave up and buggered off. The rest of the border checks was rather superficial and after not even one hour we were stamped in to Iran.
There was a rest area soon after the border and we stopped for an early lunch break. When Simon got off his bike he noticed some wires poking out near his right thumb shifter – the shifting cable was about to snap. We postponed lunch and changed the cable first. We were a bit concerned about losing time fixing up the bike and it was only while we were checking the route ahead on our phones that we noticed we had gained 1.5 hours. Somehow we hadn't realized the difference between Turkmenistan's and Iran's time zones. We carried on and it was a serious struggle. The road was smooth tarmac and there wasn't a whole lot of traffic. But there was an abundance of hills and the sun was scorching down. After the cold days in Uzbekistan the temperatures were now back to 30°C.
On our bikes three out of four tyres are very worn and virtually paper-thin. So it shouldn't have come as a surprise that we had to fix a puncture halfway to the town of Quchan. Now we were running late to get there before nightfall! We plodded on and our road joined a major highway. For most of the way there was a shoulder but it was covered with all sorts of debris. Retread tyres and second-hand tyres of questionable quality are allegedly popular in Iran. Judging from the amount of busted tyres we came across this seemed to be true. We were constantly in fear of new punctures from those nasty wires that poke out of busted tyres! Around nightfall we were still about 20 kilometres away from Quchan. We plodded on and luckily the last bit of the way was downhill. Eventually we reached a hotel – just in time. One of those wires had punctured Simon's front tyre! We dumped the bags in our – very basic – room and then we went out to find something for dinner. After not having any proper food since our early lunch we were starving. We settled on a sandwich from one of the ubiquitous fast food restaurants. When we wanted to pay we were told we were invited. What a nice move!

Bye, bye Turkmenistan!

Fixing a snapped shifting cable

On the way to Quchan

The next morning we slept late. We both felt rather shattered and decided to take a day off. It was Friday so most shops were closed anyway and we mostly just stayed in our room and didn't do much. We fixed Simon's front tyre though. While we were on it we also checked the other three tyres and naturally we found another wire stuck in Simon's rear tyre. The tyre didn't seem to lose air but as soon as we had pulled the wire out it deflated immediately. Bummer!

Our hotel room

The next morning started with ample sunshine but the forecast was for a rainstorm for the evening and the entire next day. Initially we had thought about cycling the 140 kilometres to Mashhad in two days but given the forecast we changed our plans. There was a bit of a headwind when we started but soon it turned into a crosswind and we made good progress. The busy highway we were following invited for rushing anyway. We averaged a nice 27kph speed and had bashed out the 140 kilometres by 2.30pm. We checked in to a guesthouse that had been recommended to us. The sky was completely overcast now and we stayed in the guesthouse for the rest of the day chatting with Dutch cyclists Djinn and Tim and with Daniel, a Swedish cyclist.
The forecasted rain started after nightfall and continued throughout the night and the entire next day. We couldn't really be bothered to do sightseeing in that weather and so we kept chatting with Daniel. After all we also got some of our chores done. We stocked up on supplies for the stretch ahead, got an Iranian SIM-card and found new gas canisters for our camping stove.
The next day it was still overcast but at least the rain had stopped. There were some more things on our to-do-list and so we first exchanged some money and then got Dominik's shoes repaired. Finally we set off to explore Mashhad's main attraction – the shrine of Imam Reza. Imam Reza was a descendant of Mohammed and and the eighth Shi'ite Imam making his shrine one of the most important pilgrimage sites in Shi'a Islam. The complex around the shrine is huge, containing prayer halls, museums, an university and the largest mosque in the world by area. It took a while to stroll around and it was fascinating to watch the people performing their rituals.
When we left the complex we heard loud music and the beating of drums. We later found out that it was the day before Arba'een. On this date Shi'a Muslims commemorate the martyrdom of Mohammed's grandson Husayn Ibn Ali. Part of the ceremonies around that date include processions and self-flagellation. It was a quite interesting thing to watch even though it was only back in the hostel that we actually found out the backgrounds of what we had seen.

Imam Reza Shrine...

...dozens of yards...

...and the actual shrine in gold

Arba'een procession

The next morning the weather was still grey but it didn't rain and so we set off. We didn't start particularly early but still temperatures were freezing. Actually, it was still around 10°C but with the brief return of summer in Turkmenistan and on the way to Mashhad we weren't quite used to lower temperatures any more. After we had left Mashhad behind the road became fairly undulating and progress was slow. Not only was the weather unpleasant, the rain during the last two days had also turned the fields and meadows along the road into mud. We knew we had about 150 kilometres to go to Torbat-e Heydarieh where there would be hotels. If we wouldn't make it there today we would have to pitch our tent somewhere in that mud. Given the undulating terrain and the unpleasant weather it seemed rather unlikely that we would get there in one day. After 40 kilometres we reached the small town Molkabad and stopped for lunch. We checked Google Maps and actually there was a guesthouse in Molkabad. It would be the last and only indoor accommodation before Torbat-e Heydarieh and after some soul-searching we elected for staying in Molkabad for the night.
Unfortunately there was no guesthouse when we checked out the location that Google Maps had indicated. We asked a local and he immediately invited us home. We kindly refused. They have this thing called 'Tarouf' in Iran. Basically people would offer you something out of politeness. At the same time they would expect you to refuse the offer. After the refusal the offer might be repeated but apparently one can only be sure the initial offer was genuine when that forth-and-back has been repeated three times. We tried to stick to the Tarouf rules and eventually the offer was not repeated. Instead we were shown a hotel. The room wasn't great but it was warm and dry. It was only early afternoon and we spent the rest of the day listening to audiobooks and just doing nothing.

Accommodation behind the minaret of a mosque

The forecast had been for another overcast but dry day. When we woke up it was raining. It was still raining when we had finished breakfast. We weighed our options – staying in this lacklustre place or cycling in rain. The rain was supposed to stop around noon and so we decided to leave. A bad decision. Naturally the forecast was wrong and it kept raining all day. The terrain was still hilly and so we were rather slow. By 2pm we had done 75 kilometres and were shivering from the cold wind. We warmed up in a restaurant at a rest area and then we pushed on. Just before sunset we finally reached Torbat-e Heydarieh. We found a hotel, got a warm room with a hot shower and could finally lean back. What a finale for an exhausting month!

Questionable breakfast...

...before a rainy day

Approaching Torbat-e Heydarieh