Giro d'Alborz - stage 3

I had a short day yesterday. Got prepared. Had an early night. Slept well. I dress. Eat bread and dates. I'm pedalling at 5:30. The road is wet but the sky isn't. I'm still following the river. It's beautiful country.


I wind in and out of each gully that feeds the valley. With small downs, but steadily going up.

After a couple of hours it starts to spit. I go up a short driveway and shelter under the eve of a garage. I eat some cookies. Drink sugar and salt water. It's chilly. I've started out wearing my windproof cycling jacket. I get the waterproof jacket out of the bag. I have to look after myself today. No getting wet and cold. No dehydration. No hunger. My Visa expires tomorrow. I have to get back to Tehran today. The shower doesn't turn into much. I tuck the waterproof jacket between the tent and the main bag. I ride on.

After 4 hours on the bike I stop for a leak. When I get on again, this is what's in front of me:

The zigzag lines don't show up that well at this image resolution. But it's the end of the valley. Time to climb up and out. I'm ready for it. Yeah, that white patch is snow. I've picked up a bit of altitude. I'm down in the lowest gear and I turn the pedals over.

Before I get to the zigzags I can see, I go way right. Into a fold in the mountain. My legs and lungs burn. Have to get to the turn at least. I've only been back on eight minutes. At the turn I get a picture of Darband Sar.

Darband Sar 4542m

My legs and lungs burn. I've only been back on five minutes. Have to get to the next turn at least. I get to the next turn and stop. I lean my elbows on the handlebars and breathe hard. I realise I'm breathing fast and shallow so I slow it down.

My legs and lungs burn. I've only been back on two minutes. Have to make it to the next turn. The zigzags are shorter now. I should be able to make it. I get to the next turn and don't stop. I don't stop again. There's no anger fuelling this climb. There's just resignation. This is my life now. Just turning the pedals. Might as well get on with it.

It takes fifty minutes for the zigzags. On the top I savour the cool air and get pictures in both directions. I thought it would be down from here to the highway, but it looks like another zigzag climb first. That takes some of the fun out of the huge downhill I've got coming.

The valley behind. I've come through all those mountains.

First summit of the day

The road ahead

I don't hurry off the top. It's nice up here. When I go, it's quickly apparent that it won't be fast and fun. The seal is broken on most of the corners, so I have to ride it slow, pick a good line and wince as I crash through the bumps. I loop around a group of wild horses. They rear and gallop when I pass below them. There are beekeepers tending hives. Even with my jacket it's cold, but the chill eases as I get lower. I normally use two fingers on the brake and keep two round the grip. When my fingers ache I put another one to the brake. Now there's no room left between the brake lever and the grip. Four fingers on the brake.

I'm speeding up into a straighter section, must be near the bottom, when the trailer threshes. Flat tyre. I take out the offending metal swarf. Where is all this swarf coming from? Must be from parts shearing off these rubbish cars. I change the tube. My stomach says lunchtime anyway. It's beaten the clock, but it's close. I sit on a rock. Dry biscuits and tuna. And dates. A car passes, then turns around 100m up. Must be coming to see if I'm ok. No, just changed their mind about the hill.

I cruise the rest of the way to the bottom and start with the next climb. There's roadworks. They've ripped up the top two inches of seal in strips and patches. Sometimes I can connect up the seal, other times I have to ride the ripped stuff. At least they're fixing it. And it gives me something different to think about. It's the same all the way up. I pass the roadworks gang sitting in the grass drinking tea. They offer some but I can't stop. I'm on the last stretch to the summit when there's great views down the valley. I'm glad I'm not going down there. I take some photos.

Almost at summit number two for the day.

I don't bother stopping at the top. The roadworks are the same on the way down. Slower than I would like, but at least I'm not pedalling. It looks like a cement works at the bottom. Civilization. Yuck. The last zigzag is at the cement works gate, then I come out on the highway at the elbow of a hairpin. There are cars stopped and a few shops and restaurants. I probably should get some food and drink. But I don't want to stop. This highway comes from the Caspian. I'm already a long way up. It can't be too far to the summit, then it's down into Tehran.

I don't enjoy being in traffic again. Specially these idiots. There's no shoulder. It's hairpin after hairpin. There's constant near-death overtaking. I don't really care except when it affects me. I take to the gravel a few times. It's a rest anyway.

Kurdish women use the pull off areas to sell pickled green walnuts. It doesn't look like there's a lot of takers.

I sweat and turn the pedals. I mark my progress with the helpful signs spaced at 100m intervals. Uphill. Windey.

You don't say!

Then a different sign. Tunnel. Kandovan tunnel. The ride over the summit is supposed to be gorgeous. And with all the traffic going through the tunnel, I'd have it to myself. I don't like tunnels. Nowhere to go to avoid cars. No extraction. Choking on fumes. No light. Can't see what sort of road you've got coming. I've probably got time. It's 1:30. I eat roasted almonds and look up. It's not that high.

Insanity eludes me. I push the caked mud off my rear reflector and switch on my lights. I go into the tunnel. It's downhill. A car passes me near the start, but after that I'm the only one going my way. I just have to hope no-one coming the other way decides to overtake. I watch the light grow smaller in the mirror. There's no light in front. The road dips forward, and there's the exit. I'm out.

It's fast going down. I stay off the brakes as much as I can. There's a bus gaining on me in the straights. I give it some pedal. I like having my own piece of road. Eventually he gets me and I let him go first on a hairpin.

Karaj 75. Tehran 105. But I'm not going that way. Gachsar 5. That's where I turn. At the junction there's billboards for hotels. It's another river valley, and people are picnicking on the bank. I'm going up river. It's not that steep, but my legs don't feel like more up. At 2 I stop for my own riverbank picnic. Digestives. These ones taste burnt or something. Not burnt. Too much baking powder. Or something. They're not good. I stop a few short of the whole packet.

I rest for half an hour. I'm hardly back on the bike when it clouds up. Thunder cracks. Spits. I put on the rain jacket. Hail. Big enough to feel on my shoulder through two jackets and a cycle jersey. I'm glad I've got a helmet. The tyres hose me. Not this again.

There's a restaurant that's closed. I lean the bike against the wall, and take up a seat in the doorway. Three steps up I'm still getting splashed from the iced water gushing off the roof. I lean my head back against the jamb and close my eyes.

When I wake up it's eased. It's been half an hour. Just a light spit now. The clouds look like they're getting lighter. I'll go.

I keep crawling up the valley. Wasn't it only supposed to be 13 from the turn to the skifield? That might have been to a hotel. i've passed a lot of hotels already. But when I get to the skifield, Dizin, I just have to cross the 5km summer road to Shemshak skifield, then it's 55km downhill into Tehran.

I turn a corner and here's the skifield. The grassy slopes are covered with trails and ski lifts. Where does the road go? There's no obvious pass. There's a car coming down from the top. A lot of people are going to the top. Oh God.

After ten and a half hours and three summits, I arrive at this. Is this some kind of a joke?

Dizin skifield has a catalogue drop of 900m, with the upper slopes around 3500m. The road goes over the top. Higher than the top chairlift. This is ridiculous. When I start, I can smell the burning brake linings of the cars coming down. I could just hold onto somebody's window. Nobody stops. People clap, but it doesn't mean anything. There's a long way to go.

I like it much better from this side. Looking back from the top.

There aren't any words to express how happy I am when I get to the top. There aren't any words I can publish to express the hour and three quarters before that. I've left two dying cars stranded on the hill. Cars that passed me are stopped on top. People turn back from the view and I get a series of slow claps. I'm grinning. The driver of a 4WD coming from the other side almost breaks his neck with the wide-eyed double take as he passes.

It's cold so I don't savour it for long. The seal is broken again on the way down, so it's more hard braking and bouncing. At the bottom of the steep part I stop and eat. 7:30. 55km downhill, should get in around 9:30. It's all going well. It's a resort village strung along a narrow valley and gorge. I cruise fast through it as it gets dark.

Then there's a sign, Tehran right. I go right. It's uphill. What? This is total crap. I crawl up zigzag after zigzag in the dark, my way lit by corn roasting on hot coals. It's agonisingly slow. I'm barely moving. I don't really have anything left. The sugar is still going in, but not producing much output. I finally, achingly get to the top.

Fifteen hours in I'm ready to see these lights. Tehran.

It can only be downhill from here. It turns into an Expressway, and there it is. City Lights. Almost done. just have to survive the traffic. At one of the first intersections a car shunts my trailer. The tyre is wedged under his bumper and I can't pull it out. I yell and signal him to back up. On the other side of the intersection I check the wheel. It's still fairly round. Now I take pre-emptive yelling and gesticulating to a whole new level. An hour and a half takes me back into familiar territory. I stop at a juice bar for Carrot juice with icecream. Yes, that's right, the icecream goes in the carrot juice. It's really good.

Not a bad day. Well, it was an awful day really, for the most part, but it sure had it's moments. I figure I've climbed about 10,000m in the last week. 35,000 feet. It's an estimate. I've probably done more.