When dawn came I rose to see Tehran as we entered. It was your average industrial city. At one point we passed miles of pipeline clearly destined for the oil industry. I was about to photograph it when I noticed watchtowers - obviously military and therefore verboten. Then there were large tracts planted with young trees, much as we had seen around Damascus. Is this the Middle East's answer to global warming?
Arrival at Tehran's main station was uneventful, and we soon found a driver. Why did it seem so quiet? Last night in Esfahan they had been celebrating Eid, the end of Ramazhan. "Oh no!" we were told,"That was just those Saudi's jumping the gun. Our mullahs haven't yet seen the moon." We groaned, for it meant that, yet again, Tehran was closed for the day.
Nothing daunted, we rented a car and driver for the day and headed for the hills. The mountains to the north of Tehran are very high, and about 50km to the east was the highest peak in Iran, Damavand, 5671m above sea level.
But first, there was a problem with petrol. One of the world's primary sources of crude oil has to ration petrol. We were told this arose from two problems - first, Iran's refineries were small and old; and secondly, the mullahs were hogging all the gasoline and selling it cheaply to the Turks, making a killing for themselves. As a result, the average citizen was restricted to a maximum of 100 litres per month. Our driver had to borrow his sister's car, because he had used most of his allowance.
Finally we were off, a broad highway through the suburbs, and eventually over a series of passes in the foothills. Then a run along the southern flank of the mountains, passing through many small towns, before we reached a huge intersection where we turned north over a high pass. On the far side we plunged down towards the Caspian Sea, some 30km away, and there ahead of us was the great mountain:
On we went, with our driver certain that he would find the side road leading to high on the mountain. But no, we went deeper and deeper:
Finally we stopped at a charming mountain stream, with icy water coming from the glaciers high above:
There we turned back, and finally found the side road. It led over a high hill, and looking back we had a view almost of Switzerland, with charming houses and snowy peaks away to the south:
We dropped down into another valley, where there was a hot spring, and hundreds of Iranian families out enjoying the clear mountain air with their children, and celebrating a religious holiday well away from the prying eyes of the religious police (or so our driver assured us!) On and up we went:
At the highest point we reached, a dirt track was signposted "Base hut - 400m" so up we strolled, definitely feeling the altitude, and equally definitely feeling decidedly cooler than we had been several hours before. The views got better, but we got worse, and all too soon it was time to turn back.
We tried to take a pretty road past some lakes, but the road was only open in summer, and now the military had closed it off. We then found our way over new passes, some with fine houses alongside what were obviously ski runs in winter, and others with very alpine-feeling lodges. Eventually we dropped down to the plains and the heat and the road back to Tehran.
The traffic was thick, and the going slow. The driver of a car stopped next to us pulled out a tape, and stuck it in the deck of his radio. "Oomdah, oomdah, oom-di-di-oom dah" we heard - just audibly, even with the car windows open. A little later there were sirens, and the car was pulled over by uniformed police. "Idiot man!" said our driver, "He should know better than to play that sort of music in public.
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