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Shahpesand - Tehran
E.Route : Shahpesand - Tehran : PTD 0523 : PTA 1915 : P.Dist 300m.
A.Route : Shahpesand - Tehran : ATD 0750 : ATA 1909 : A.Dist 298m.
- Depart Shahpesand 0750
- 0900 - 0916 Shopstop
- 1007 - 1012 Bogstop
- 1029 - 1120 Shopstop
- 1222 - 1227 Shopstop
- 1620 - 1656 Chaistop
- Arrive Tehran* 1909
Pr.N.A.Spd 27.70 mph : Gross A.Spd 26.73 mph : Net.A,3pd. 31.53mph
Stop time 1:53 hr : Speedo TD 13206 : Speedo TA 13503
Comment : A very uneventful day, on average rather faster than the previous in the reverse direction, and without the hindrance of the attempted help by the police*
(*) - This is arrival time at Manzerieh.
Jim Lindsay's diary:
21 September
It took willpower to get going again and we were not early. We were back on
the humid plains of the Caspian with their lush vegetation and cotton fields.
Today we had a navigators' strike, one of these things that blew up from tensions
in a group of people cooped up together. This little entertainment resulted from
Ricky emerging from his sulk and trying to create trouble for the navigators and
others he thought had been responsible for his downfall. He persuaded Fay that
Brian too should become a navigator. We hardly needed five navigators when we
now only had three drivers, but Fay was persuaded that Brian needed a clearer
role than he had, and agreed to this. We had no problem with Brian but really
resented Ricky trying to interfere in our business. Don W and Dave suggested
that we should strike, I joined them and brought Johan out too. We announced
our decision and retired to the rear seats.
Gordon was driving at the time and did not know what was going on. He reasonably
enough was indignant about what looked like frivolous dereliction of duty and
started organising a kind of vigilante navigation squad including Eileen and
Sandra. It was only when we had a stop at a little town during the first
vigilante shift and explained what was going on that he and the vigilantes
realised the situation and came over to our side. Having made our point to
Fay we accepted Brian into the group. I was really pleased to get back to
normal. I enjoyed the job a lot.
The Elburz Mountains did not seem to have been very well made and lots of old
landslips were visible. We stopped at a little chai house halfway through the
mountains and sat at tables outside admired the view, sucking spare sugar
lumps to get the maximum value from our purchase.
Finally we found our way down into the smog and confusion of Tehran and made
our halting way to Manzarieh. Once again they gave us little passes. We erected
the first time for many days - I think it had last been put up at Kabul on the
outward journey - and made ourselves at home. Someone may correct me but I
think this was the last time the tent went up.
22 September
The initial plan had been for a short stay in Tehran but in the end we had two
full days. A major reason for this was mechanical. A number of coaches were
suffering and the worst problem was with our Goodyear tyres. Everyone had
suffered stripped treads and I think Leicester had actually lost three in
one day. A very impressive pile of dead tyres built up and was photographed.
Meanwhile Goodyear were shipping a replacement batch to Tehran so that we
could all make good, but of course this could not be done instantly. Cuddles
had been an early victim, which we thought gave us a marginal advantage in
being on new tyres while others were still losing theirs.
We got back our cholera suspects at this stage, and from Greg's point of view
it was very helpful to get the contingents together as a group so that he could
keep some control of our onward movement.
This time there was no shop on site so Yorkshire cleverly organised a cooler
full of great slabs of ice and sold drinks, but mercifully at quite reasonable
prices. We spent a lot of time doing the mundane things we did on rest days -
sorting the contents of our kitbags, washing clothes, writing home. Brian sugared
his pipes, something you apparently do to keep the wood moist and flexible.
23 September
Everyone seemed to be feeling quite lively. We gave Cuddles a good wash and
interior cleaning up at the standpipe near the toilets, and got soaked in the
process. There were various theories about ways of streamlining the cleaning
of the interior, but one much-hated and unavoidable part was getting down with
water and a cloth and swabbing away the most resistant grot that had packed
itself tightly round the seat-bases.
One thing that emerged from this process was that we had started the trip with no
more than six canvas buckets but now had no less than fifteen. Our gain had been
other peoples' loss, but loose property did tend to migrate if the owners were
slow or careless. Quite a lot of personal gear had also gone astray over the
weeks, typically left when camp sites were vacated and picked up by the last to
leave. We had "lost property races" here, where the fittest and fleetest could
race to retrieve the best items from the pile.
The Yorkshire coach was out of service (probably waiting for tyres) and they
commissioned Don and me to take them to their supply source and top up the drink
supplies for their shop.
On the outward journey we had enjoyed tuning into local radio stations as we went
along, but this had petered out in the later weeks. Now we were able to pick up
radio stations again.
Tonight there was a drivers' meal, which as far as I remember was made by the
drivers as the result of a long-running joke between them and the mechanics.
All the drivers contributed part of it but the main course was spaghetti
Bolognese, which suggests that Don C was responsible. Before the meal some of
us went down to the local shops to buy desserts for anyone who did not want
yoghourt, and came back with pomegranates and a kind of sweet-glazed unleavened
bread. It was a vast filling meal and left us comatose.
From where the sun rises by Liz Y
After Fariman we spent two days on the road, with one short night camped under the stars in Shahpasand. We followed
the Silk Road through regions with names from Persian antiquity, Khorasan meaning "the land where the sun rises",
Golastan meaning "the land of flowers".
Our journey led through the beautiful and contrasting landscapes of northeast Iran, the deserts of parched earth in
Khorasan, the rich green lands near the Caspian Sea, the dramatic rock faces of the Elburz Mountains, where peaks
stand capped in snow all year round.
It was late when we reached Shahpasand and braced ourselves for a night with the bugs. All that flitting and hovering
on the outward journey had left its mark, but this time there were no bugs, at least none that bothered us. The lights
were out and the season had moved on. I've read that there's a beautiful flower called Shahpasand, with petals in
brilliant shades of purple, pink and yellow. We were now in the part of Iran known as Golestan.
Gorgan is the main city in Golestan. The original city of this name was destroyed by the Mongols in the 13th century and
once upon a time there had been a province here called Gorgan. The name derives from ancient Persian and means "the land
of wolves". There are still wild wolves in remote areas near the Caspian.
But it hadn't been wolves which surrounded Cuddles, when we stopped in Gorgan late one afternoon on our outward journey.
It was here we were beset with excited boys, leaping up by the bus for a glimpse through the windows, closing in by the
steps as returning shoppers climbed on board. What happened on short visits to unfamiliar places coloured our impressions.
We associated Shahpasand with giant insects and Gorgan with grinning boys at our windows.
We got used to being stared at in the East. A convoy of twenty small coaches would turn heads anywhere, but in Europe on
our own we did kind of blend with the landscape. In Asia all that changed. Inside the bus, we had our own small world,
but around us people lived very differently and we attracted attention. On shop stops, interested bystanders would gather
round us as we shopped for vegetables, fruit, eggs, bread or whatever was needed that day.
We lived in the moment, the demands of the road, the needs of the day, our life on the bus, the chance for tea at a roadside
cafe. We took with us passing images of people in towns and villages, bucolic scenes in the fertile land by the Caspian,
traffic on a mountain road.
Iran lies on several major geological fault lines. Earlier in 1969, fifty people had died in an earthquake not far from
Bojnurd. In 1968 an earthquake, measuring 7.4 on the Richter scale had killed over 15,000 people in southern Khorasan.
After Shahpasand, we followed a road at some miles inland but running parallel to the Caspian Sea. The road led through
Golestan and the province of Mazandaran, towards the northern slopes of the Elburz Mountains. From 21st century maps,
I think our route led past Gorgan, then Sari, capital of Mazandaran Province, before turning to the south, east of the
city of Amol.
Before the Mongol invasions, northeast Iran was at the cultural heartland of Persia. For centuries it was famed for its
artists in calligraphy, ceramics, textiles and other sought-after artefacts and for its scholars in astronomy, mathematics,
medicine, philosophy and many other diverse spheres of knowledge. One name we would recognize was that of Omar Khayyam,
who came from the city of Nishapur, to the west of Mashhad.
Just beyond our route lay the Great Wall of Gorgan, built in 6th century CE in the days of the Sassanid Empire to keep
out invading armies from the north. The wall is said to be one of the longest fortified walls in the world and an amazing
feat of engineering. Iran is a treasure house for archaeologists, with artefacts and archaeological remains dating
back over thousands of years.
Towns, cities, high mountain passes were the milestones of our travels in the East. In between were many beautiful unnamed
places, where we pulled in at the roadside for crew changes, food stops, bog stops, times when we wandered from the road
to gaze across wide open deserts, mountain ranges, deep ravines. Somewhere I walked down to the dried silt of a riverbed.
In later years, scenes would fuse in our memories, become some sort of composite souvenir.
We retraced our outward journey through the spectacular scenery of the Elburz Mountains. It was a hazardous road but easier
now we knew what to expect. It was evening when we finally arrived in Tehran, amid the congestion and bustle of the capital
city. The beauty of a city depends on your vantage point and the view from Cuddles in the chaos of traffic-jammed roads
wasn't great. But the city was beautiful, with the backdrop of hills to the north and deserts to the south. We had already
seen the boulevards, the bazaar, other sights of the city and the campsite at Manzarieh was one of our best.