IRAN (Part 3)

Alamut castle

Photobiker: Bjorn Holland

And here follows an episode that I'm not particularly proud of ... Though having said that, have achieved a number of much dodgier lows during my life, that put this one on the distinctly tame side of things. Nevertheless when I think back, believe I could have done things a lot better ...

A couple of years back I read a rather compelling and at the same time controversial novel by Dan Brown, called the DaVinci Code. In it a 'baddy' was trained as an Assassin in one of the remote and little known castles of Alamut, found in North West Iran. Having been caught up in the story of this enigmatic sect of religious nutters, was compelled to seek more knowledge. I subsequently found out that they evidently plied potential male converts with marijuana, (hashish) and once 'high' led them to a secret garden full of nubile lovelies, instilling them with promises of an eternity in paradise after they die. Of course these somewhat naïve youngsters went for it, and became the legendary stealth murderers without fear. After all why worry about dying, when you're going to spend forever in a paradise being serviced by a small herd of gorgeous nymphets! Anyway, to finish giving some background on why we were there in the first place, there is some knowledge available about these loony's who lived in the mountains, but due to the inaccessibility of the location and the secrecy surrounding their practices, much still remains guesswork. What I do know is that the authorities of that time, were unable to subdue all of the castles due to their remote locations. Negotiation and time however, did what military might was unable to do in taming the sect of the Assassins. But their final fate mattered not, as I was already intrigued, and had it mind to find out more by going there myself ...

After leaving the main road between Zanjan and Tehran, found that it led the way directly towards the distant mountains. It wasn't long before we began to climb, and started winding our way up a steep hill, that took us deeper and deeper in between the dark peaks. It started out well with me watching our path on the GPS that was set to a smaller scale. The track began to look like one of those kids puzzles where the kitten had to find his way to the ball of string by following the route of one tangled piece. The tortuous series of esses, weren't advancing as too much as the crow flies, but was counting up the kilometres. Estimates of how long it was going to take wasn't too far out in the end, though much depended on the road conditions. Fairly large sections were still under construction, that led to some rather interesting moments going around bends with steep drop-offs. I've gotta say that the ride though 3 hours in total, was over in what seemed no time at all, as it took us through some spectacular mountain scenery. When the road surface was good enough, we were able to drift our way around sweeping bends. The road threw everything at us. 180-degree'ers, switch-backs in both combination and series. In fact near continuous good motorcycling, the like of which makes a ride worthwhile for it's own sake. The only criticism might be that we weren't able to get much above 50 Km/hr as no sooner had we gone round one bend, the S's would continue straight onto the next set of S's. On several occasions during the ride we could see a road on the opposite side of a big valley. Following it with the eye whenever possible, it was deduced as the one and only road. Our road. And indeed ended up following up and down along and around the seemingly endless valleys, in order to get to our destination.

Above the clouds, on the road to Alamut ...

Eventually we ended up in Alamut village, a place short on ... well, it looked about it was short on everything as it was so remote. We'd passed many small villages, but they gradually got fewer and each successive gathering of ramshackle huts looked more and more ramshackle. The narrow road went upwards towards a cleft in the mountains. A sheer cliff appeared when we'd cleared a patch of trees that lined the roadside. After winding our way through the village of Alamut we could see the castle right in front of us. All that could be seen of it was a pile of stones on top of a lofty crag, but nevertheless it dominated. Thunder rumbled and heavy clouds closed in. Somewhere high in the mountains a dog howled, with what sounded to me like a pack of kids answering with their own wolf-like howls. The place was not short on atmosphere.

Having bought provisions in readiness for a nights camping, steady rain had begun to put a damp squib on ideas of a night under the stars in the mountains. And to be honest we hadn't passed too many spots that looked appealing enough to pitch a tent. So we decided to take a room at the local pension. We came across a guy in a car, so asked him for directions. He turned out to be really helpful because he jumped into his car and drove in front for some few minutes, to make sure we found Alamut. When he stopped, he got out and approached another man, who we guessed to be the pension owner. The owner then turned to us and went on to quote what we thought to be rather a lot. A lot of money that is, when compared to the standard of accommodation on offer. Bjorn meanwhile went on to check the room and reported back, to say it was 'basic'. But of course the dampness and impending dark, persuaded us to accept, and in we went. Now, the rather helpful chap with the car continued with his assistance, and insisted on carrying our gear up ... and up ... and ... There were quite a lot steps, as the whole village and surrounds sat on little more than a series of precipitous ledges. The 'hotel' was on one these ledges and connected to the road, by some poorly concreted steps of varying step-height. After paying the owner upfront for the room, Mr helpful then surprised us with demands for a further IR100,000! Standing there with the pension owner in front of us we initially said no, so there followed some discussion between them, after which he pressed his demands once again. And here's where it starts going wrong. We paid him ...

Watching him walk off, had that sinking feeling that someone was taking the p*ss with us. The $ sign alarm bells that reminded me this travelling lark isn't open-ended, rang for all they were worth.

Looking around our rather meagre room, ... And you do need to trust me here, in that I'm being kind with this description. The bed was 'hard' with a mattress some 20mm in thickness, though again using the term mattress is doing that tatty bit of bedding kindness. It goes on ... Ancient gas boiler, with soot marks coming from the pilot-light hole. But surprise of surprises did actually give out hot-water after our host lit it. He did it like this ...

With him muttering away in Farsi (or may have been a local dialect for all we knew), as he shuffled back and forth was doing little more than getting under our feet. He continued to talk to us even though clear we could understand very little. We tried to get organised, but he just kept getting in our way. While I wasn't able to make much progress of getting out of my damp bike-gear, to the chance to have a look at the ablutions area (sorry as the word bath-room might give the wrong impression). It was not very inviting at all. The grubby looking toilet had to be negotiated before you could get to the shower area as it was right in front of the door. The dribbly shower was an ancient tap furred up with lime and had well-stretched pipe and shower head of equally ancient origin. This quick description of one aspect of our room, is to give you some impression on what I was seeing and how it made me feel at that point. And what it was, was pretty pissed off. We'd ridden some three hours off of the main road, to arrive in a pretty desolate place with no particular plans. The original idea was of spending a couple of days in or around the Alamut ruins, but the dismal weather and depressing accommodation just me feel as though I wanted to get out of there as soon as humanely possible. Adding to this, was that we were being charged an inordinate amount, and further that we'd been taken severe advantage of, by one of the locals on the make. And this grumbling old fella was not doing much to help, by bumbling around when all I wanted was a beer, some food or simply something to distract me from the dinginess surrounding me. Interrupting his waffle, asked if there was any hot-water by pointing at the taps and boiler. In my enquiries was ready to give him a hard time and re-negotiate rates if there wasn't any. But he leaped into action and in lighting the boiler turned out his pockets to retrieve a box of two matches. Wasting one match I was amazed that he managed to catch the pilot-alight with the 2nd. He was quite chuffed of himself too, as he proudly turned on the tap hovering shakily over the top of a dirty steel-sink. A few seconds later steamy water was streaming down the plug-hole. Leaving it running as well as forgetting his pocket-contents and his empty box of matches, he took his gangly frame and worried expression out and away, for which I was grateful to finally get the space we'd forked-out so much Rial to rent.

And then it was, that I noticed in searching for matches and tipping-out the contents of his pockets onto the *work-surface, it included the money we'd given him only a few minutes earlier. Ching-ching. Pay-back time, ya Rat!!!

* I've gotta tell ya, that this 'work-surface' was a tatty flat piece of board with years of dirt grimed into scratched laminate, that should never in a million years be used to preparing food!

Now here you have to bear with me, as I'm trying for all I'm worth to play this down because ... well, I feel pretty shabby about all. And I know you've guessed what was coming. So yeah, we took this money back. I do feel guilty about it. Not too much I might add, as the room was over-priced for what we were getting. In reality he was unreasonable in his demands, when comparing it against other places such as our last hotel in Tabriz. But the truth of the matter, is that the real sting, was the guy who'd helped us find the place and subsequently helped us carry our gear up. We neither engaged him for his services as guide, nor as porter. So it was his decision to help, and could not expect to be paid seeing as we'd not agreed a verbal contract. We did not need to pay him. In hindsight, the banter between him and the owner was probably this guy trying to get money out of the pension owner. Who'd obviously told him no, and that if wanted anything to try and get it out of us. Which we foolishly allowed him to do. We should have done the same the same as the pension owner, and told him to take a flyer too.

In continuation of trying to justify things, will relate one incident that occurred after dark ... With the rain persisting, the evening was pretty miserable and so therefore didn't expect anyone to be wandering around outside. I had cause to retrieve something from the panniers that had been left on the bike, so wandered down wearing my running vest and shorts. Now in central Tehran or indeed any other city or town in Iran this would have been a no-no, but guessed that a rainy night in the middle of nowhere, it wouldn't create too much of a problem. After diving outside, was picking my way through the muddy path in order to find the steps back down our bikes. I then noticed our pension owner outside with a towel over his head, huddled over a tatty old BBQ. With smoke billowing around his head I nodded at him when passing. He nearly choked but not from the smoke, but the fact he could see my bare arms, shoulders and legs. He started gesturing at me to try and tell me, and I'm guessing here, that his missus and kids weren't too far away in the house. Sod you, I thought. They're hardly likely to come outside, and even if they did would most likely dismiss me as another western Touro' that doesn't know any better. But it was too late for him as far as I was concerned. His OTT reaction under those circumstances had turned my brain against him. And so continued on my way thinking what a bloody twerp he was. F'cryin' out loud, he was living in the dark ages so far as I was concerned. But immediately my mind turned to the money, left on the side in our room.I should say that at that moment, I fully expected him to return to the room and ask for his money back after remembering his oversight. But up till then was no sign of him doing so. In fact in confirmation that he'd completely forgotten what he'd done, when I came back up some five minutes later, distinctly saw him rummaging through his pockets as if looking for something. I used a bit of quick deduction and realised he had no idea where he'd put whatever was in his pockets. Neglecting to mention he'd left his cigarettes behind too ... so was possible that he could have been looking for those instead. But of course reason tells me the most important thing, would be a wedge of dosh he'd taken from us only a short time earlier. Then and there and because of his rather negative reaction towards my less than adequate dress, decided to take the money back so long as he didn't ask us for it again. My ego felt been bruised and felt he'd been disrespectful towards me, after all knew I'd never be flagrant in someone else's country or home by ignoring their sense of decency and displacing it with my own standards. Stuff him, I thought, as I watched the silly miserable bugger smoking his tatty bits of meat in the rain. It's a grotty little pension anyway, and with little sign that any money goes into making things better for his guests, he doesn't deserve my respect.
But of course I was wrong. The next day came and for many reasons we decided not to make the hike all the way up the crag, to see whatever was left of Alamut castle. I'd read it was mostly rubble anyway. And anyway the discussions of the previous evening, led us to the conclusion that obtaining a Chinese visa was higher up the list of priorities than it had been up till then. So were keen to get on to Tehran and to make a start with that side of things. As well as that, the incident with the money had tainted the already morbid atmosphere of that damp and desolate place. It would be good for our brains to get away to more brighter surroundings ...

Our host re-appeared as we packed the bikes, and did what he could to help getting us down the precipitous bit of roadway into his shabby place of refuge. Looking at him again, saw a simple man. He didn't appear as I'd imagined the night previous of being an ignorant person with little empathy or interest in his patrons. He seemed almost hurt we were going so soon, and it prompted thoughts of going back to the room and leaving at least some of the cash I'd pocketed. But I didn't do it, instead hardening my resolve to finish getting myself and the bike packed ready to leave. We left and I carried with me some regrets about this deed. It needn't have been that way. I could have done things better I'm sure of it ...

We rode back to the way we'd come in, and after a while the concentration required to keep us safely on the road, took my thoughts back to a more positive frame of mind. I couldn't keep this positive injection of energy going for too long , and found that after an hour or so I started getting tired. Looking at the clock on the bike, there was a good couple of hours of the windey stuff still yet be dealt with. With drowsiness clouding my mental horizons, the journey back wasn't quite the same fun experience that it had been the day before, so was glad to be back onto straight roads once more. The clouds receded and at the same time the heat had returned. Coming down from the highlands our focus turned to getting ourselves to Tehran. With the mountains dwindling in our mirrors, we hit the motorway heading east. A big city beckoned ...

Here's a couple of pictures where we decided to have a power-nap, while on route to Tehran!