Warm Turkey

Stage 8: Orumiyeh to Hakkari
Day 1: 95.6km Yüksekova
Day 2: 79.0km Hakkari


After 2 days in Orumiyeh, the weather cleared enough to make a successful break for the border. Once again, I fınd myself in a place where I know NOTHING of the language; I had to ask the border guards what 'thank-you' was, and still haven't worked out how to say 'goodbye'. I just say ıt ın Farsı; I'm sure they get the meanıng and ıt makes me feel better sayıng ıt ın a language other than English. At least I'm makıng an effort!







Good Iranian Road Sign






Bad Iranin Road Sign







'Turkey, please be good to me' I whıspered to myself as I crossed the fınal checkpoınt and ınto the 4th country on thıs route home. I was thınkıng maınly of the weather, and had wonderful ımages of a 40km descent ınto lush green valleys full of raınbows, good campıng grounds and chıldren running through the long green grass wıth smıles on theır chubby lıttle faces and carryıng burnıng sparklers. The realıty was a 16km climb and masses upon masses of snow. I did get to drınk tea wıth shepherds and eat bread wıth soldıers, so ıt wasn't all bad!





Hanging out wıth my new friends the shepherds















Turkish Soldier










The day ended nıcely wıth a long descent ınto Yüksekova. I'll let the pıctures descrıbe what I found.






























These guys are cleanıng the roof. How? By throwıng the snow down on the streets below whıle people are walkıng past. One soon learns to watch where one ıs goıng. I saw ıt beıng done from a 5-storey buıldıng!




The afternoons have been blue skıes wıth barely a cloud ın the sky. The same ıs not true for the mornıngs. Agaın, I'll let photos do the hard work.

The solutıon was to wrap my towel around my face and wear plastıc bags over both paır of gloves! It really worked.


Military are everywhere. About every 1-2km, groups of 2 are camped out by the sıde of the road. I was ın stealth mode (i.e. not singing/shoutıng/ramblıng ıncoherently to myself) as I passed one guy, caught hım by surprıse and watched as he jumped and ınstınctıvely reach for the rıfle that was slung over hıs shoulder. Since then I've taken to whıstlıng!

I've passed 3 checkpoints and had two vehıcles stop to ınquıre what the hell I was doing. On ınforming them that I merely wısh to cycle to Ireland, they bıd me a pleasant journey and drıve off as the ındıvıdual mannıng the machıne gun on the top waves goodbye.

The locals are all frıendly (have to watch out for the occasıonal snowball from mıschevous youths), and ıf ıt wasn't for the strong military presence, I'd say that BBC was simply havıng a laugh. I've asked at the checkpoınts I've passed and they seem to thınk I can make ıt through to Şirnak.

Once agaın, we shall see...

Final Score

Stage 7: Hamadan to Orumiyeh
Day 1: 86.8km Qorveh
Day 2: 92.8km Bijar
Day 3: 89.1km Takab
Day 5: Rest Day
Day 6: Bus to Orumiyeh (about 300km)

I woke up on the morning of Monday 25th February at the normal time of 6am. I ate my breakfast while staring out the window at the darkness beyond. In the 10min between finishing eating and being ready to leave, the snow had begun to fall.

I'd seen news reports that 3 days of snow were approaching, but had chosen not to believe them. An optimism had begun to settle that I would actually make it to the border, and I did not want to lose it. With only 5 days remaining on my visa, and a 4day cycle to the border, I needed conditions to be perfect. Faced with the harsh reality I decided, once again, to catch a bus.


The previous 3 days had been good. I'd started carrying my water bottles in my panniers, and stones in my pockets. The first is easily explained by the picture; it's a frozen river (I dropped a rock on one river from a bridge about 8m above [because that's the kind of thing I like doing] and it didn't even break the ice)! The second was for the dogs.

Luckily, nygmy bear-dogs did not make a return appearance. My only altercation with them was for one to lift its head from the carcass of a dead animal that 3 of them were devouring to bark at me from about 50m away; though it was still enough to install the fear of god in me! No, the stones were for ordinary, boring dogs. I was struggling uphill as the first band of 3 ran at me. I decided to be meek and mild and slowed down as they circled me, barking and growling while I shat myself. Eventually, a young boy emerged from the house and called them away with the help of a big stick. 2km down the road, 3 more came running. This time I decided to be a man, so reached down, picked up some rocks and started hurling them at my would-be attackers (while calling them names). It worked wonders, and the beasts remained at a safe distance (Dad will be so proud).

My knee, with the help of an elasticated support, has finally stopped giving problems. The terrain was rolling hills, with mucho up and mucho down, but the pain has gone (which is always good). Thank-you to everyone who offered help and advice.

So now I'm in the town of Orumiyeh, 54km from the border. It's still snowing, but I hope it to clear in the next couple of days. Now, all that is left for me to do is to try to acquire a map and ascertain the areas where the Turkish Army have decided to conduct "operations".

Final score:

Iranian Weather 17-12 Kieran, Sicander and Mr Stick
(It's a rugby score, and I at least get a bonus point)






Shadow Me







I wasn't tempted











Takht-e-Soleyman. A Zoroastrian site in the mountains near Takeb dating from 1500BC. I got to see the fire temple this time round, but felt a bit cheated because there was nothing but snow!











All this fell in about 2hrs!








View of Lake Orumiyeh from the bus. Isn't it beautiful?

What's in a name?

Stage 6: Kashan to Hamadan
Day 1: 115.7km Mahallet
Day 2: 123.3km Arak
Days 3&4: Rest
Day 5: 103.3km Melayer
Day 6: 87.5km Hamadan

Iliotibial Band Syndrome, I believe, is the name for my current condition. That, or a small tear in my cartilage.

After raising my saddle by half an inch, and keeping my bike one gear lower than I normally would, I took on the resemblance of a cartoon character; cycling in fastforward, but travelling in slow motion. At least, that's what if felt like. If anything, I think I covered the distance faster than I would have previously! Day one provided minor twinges and my optimism began to return, but day two changed everything. Again, with 25km to go, twinges turned to definate discomfort. There was none of the facial contortions of before (spinning helped on this front), but gritted teeth and muttered, un-publishable words helped me through the final uphill sections.


The snow fell during the final day in Arak, and I thought "Oh Shit!". But it didn't stick, so I though "Oh Good". I had, of course, forgotten the effects that night can have; I woke up in the morning to find 2 inches of snow covering all. One gets to feel all emotions while cycle touring, on that particular morning it was trepidation. Do I stay, or do I go?

Unfortunately, a bit of an incident had occurred the previous evening. One that left a bitter taste in my mouth and helped influence my decision. It was a metophorical bitterness, but it could oh-so-nearly have been an actual, literal one, with all hell breaking loose as a consequence. Let me explain...

Every country has good and bad people. Iran, it just so happens, has more good than other places; but bad do exist. I never really liked the young men working in the Guesthouse. They would continuously call me over whenever I walked past and continuousy babble away in a language they knew I did not understand. One can always catch the drift of what a speaker is saying by their facial expressions and body language, but this takes patience and energy; I was short on energy and my patience soon wore thin. I started making my excuses earlier and earlier. They did not take kindly to my lack of interest!

The night before I was due to leave I'd noticed that Mr Stick was missing from my bike. I was not impressed. Although I managed to (eventually) retrieve him, I decided that the hall was no place for Sicander, and my room would be better. I only wish I'd made this decision earlier. I went to fill up my water bottles and so tipped the old water out. A yellow liquid came out of one. "I don't remember drinking apple juice" is what (naturally) went through my mind. Then the smell hit me.

Words do not describe the anger and disgust that welled up. Water bottles are sacred; pure and simple! I am sure that when I return home and settle down to study the English translation of the Qur'an, there will be a passage that goes along the lines of "Thou shalt not urinate into the water bottles of passing cyclists or thou could find thyself on the receiving end of a beating from Mr Stick".

But what could I do? These guys were running the guest house. I had no proof as to who had done it. And even if I had, then what would I do? Stand before them re-enacting the urinatory episode to convey to them what I was so angry about. I'm sure they would have loved that. Instead, all I could do was let the adrenaline surge through my body and say to myself "I'm off tomorrow".

So, with a thoroughly washed, re-washed and re-re-washed waterbottle, I set off into the snow. It wasn't quite as foolhardy as it sounds; the sky was blue and I chose the main road which would have more traffic, should difficulty occur. But even still, I don't think I will do it again. The slush covers everything. It even stays trapped between the wheel and mudguards providing audible friction noises that are certainly not welcome whilst struggling up hills!

2hrs later, the ice and snow had been burned off the road and I was glad to have Arak behind me.




One good thing I can say is that tailwinds do exist in Iran.

...and how glorious they are!

Oh yeah. And dogs the size of bears; they also exist. I'd like to show a picture, but there's no way in hell I'm stopping to get one. Some might say pygmy bears, but I'd succesfully argue that they're a hybrid between pygmy and normal bears - Nygmy bear-dogs if you will.




Viva la revolution








I stripped and regreased my hubs safe in the knowledge that quality bike parts were available!