I am NOT getting in that car!

Ali, an English-speaking Iranian, was holding up the replacement tyre, that they were about to fit to the taxi – it was as bald as a baby’s backside. At that point I lost it, packed up my bike, picked up a random direction, and headed off towards where I thought the bus station was. In my haste, I forgot to reconnect the front brake. I already had the rear brake disconnected due to wheel problems, so when I started heading downhill, and realised I had no brakes, and was heading towards a T-junction, things weren’t looking good. I should have realised that it was not going to be a good day when I swung my leg over the saddle first thing, and tore a big hole in my trousers.

We had camped in a half-finished building 15-20km from Marand, in north-eastern Iran. I had noticed that my rear brakes were grabbing a little at one spot, but thought perhaps the wheel wasn’t quite true, so hadn’t bothered looking at it, and was going to deal with it later. But then a few kilometres after starting, I realised something was wrong with my rear wheel. Stopping to look, I saw the rim had split along the braking surface. Check this out:

The wheel was holding together, but I didn’t know how long it would last. We weren’t too far from Marand, so I decided to push on to there, and try and find a bus to Tabriz.

I made it to Marand, where the fun began. A few wrong directions when trying to find the bus station, then I saw a sign for the bus station. OK, let’s go in that direction. A fair way along the road, I realise that I’ve probably missed a turn somewhere. I stop and ask directions, and meet Ali, who speaks a bit of English. I explain the situation, he says follow me, OK, this looks good. We meet an English teacher, and there is talk of cups of tea. No problem, I’m happy to spend a little of my time with people, who want to meet foreigners, practise their English, etc.

But then suddenly we are going around the bike stores, to try and find somewhere to fix my wheel. There is now a large crowd gathered around, including ‘Ice’, a German-speaker who keeps butting in. Next thing we are loading the bike in a ute, and heading off to another bike store, where I just know that they won’t have what I need – partly because Friday is a day of rest, with most places closed. The crowds continue, and I’m starting to get a bit frazzled. I’m struggling to keep up with the German flowing from Ice, who it would seem gets few opportunities to speak German, and is trying to make up for lost time.

Finally getting agreement that I need to go to Tabriz, they want me to take a taxi, not a bus. I really want the bus, but they are determined to put me in a taxi. This means that Ali and Ice also want to come to Tabriz (around 60km away). I can’t dissuade them, but then before leaving town the taxi gets a flat tyre, and I make my break. Everyone is very nice, but they think they know what I need, when (in this case) I actually do know what I need.

Getting on the bus is a mission, as I have to take the bike more or less apart, but we get there in the end. I get the seat next to the driver, which I would rather not have – I’d rather not see what’s happening on the road. But it’s OK – at the bus station we drop off all the other passengers, and the driver shows me how to take tea, Iranian style. Rather than dissolve the sugar, you put the lump in your mouth, and drink the tea through it.

Made it into town, caught up with the others again, then today we managed to get my wheel sorted out. Met a member of the Iranian MTB team, who directed us to Saeed Mohammedi’s store, where we got a new wheel built, and a couple of other issues sorted out, no problems. Lots of tourers come through here, and he does free servicing. Great place, lots of locals hanging around too. Check out what the rim looked like under the tape:

Here’s Saeed building the new rim, while I’m holding the broken one. That’s Jan on the right.

Going on a train from Tabriz to Tehran tonight, to get some visas sorted out, then going south to Esfahan and Shiraz, before rejoining the others somewhere around Mashad.

Iran has been good so far – whatever perceptions you hold of religious nutters running around planning terrorist attacks are wrong. Friendly people, but I can assure you that they are aware of the problems with their government and country. But more on that in another post.

P.S. If an Iranian suggests you should have a shave, does that mean it’s time to lose the beard?