4^th October Bam, Iran to Mirjaveh Iran

We left early enough… but there were already police outside the guesthouse. They escorted us to the highway….. and couldn’t keep up. 20 miles into the journey Richi discovered he had left his mobile behind. Jerone and Stephen went on, I and Martin waited whilst Richi did the round trip to collect his phone. Phone collected we were on our way again.

The deserts that we pass through become bigger and bigger. Nothing prepares for the vast emptiness of the deserts. Sporadically strong winds collect themselves from nowhere and everywhere. They change direction without discussion.

We pass watchtowers built from mud brick. Some are pockmarked with bullet holes. The area approaching the Pakistan border is well known as a drug caravan route. Opium produced in Afghanistan passes across the lengthy and prorous border with Pakistan and Iran, Europe bound. This area is almost a no mans land. There are almost no signs of life, just a strip of tarmac stretching in desert haze and mirage.

We pass more disturbing sights. A burnt out bus by the roadside… .. it looked very much as if it had been blown up…. In the middle of a gorge on a steep and winding road from which escape was impossible

We are finally stopped by a checkpost and escorted. At the next checkpost we meet up with Jeroene and Stephen. Their escort had been a powerful  Hilux pickup. At times they had ridden at 100mph.

We travel on with a Hilux crewed 2 guys with Kalashnikovs and another guy manning a machine gun mounted to the rear of the truck. We roll into Zahedan around 12. We need fuel but surprisingly the Iranian police are unable to persuade the petrol station to give us fuel. There is no dispensing card available… !!??

We move on and into the police barracks. An armed compound with young cops larking around inside. They offer us food which we gladly eat. Speed is our priority but not theirs.

We leave after an hour or so to get fuel. We arrive at a major roundabout and are dropped outside a UPVC cabin containing a single older cop. We sit on kerbstones to the rear of the cabin. There is an intense stench of shit and piss. This provokes Jeroene into a rant about “Poo flinging” and a vebal assault upon the cabin officer. After much much time we are collected by a Hilux to be escorted to the other side of the roundabout (at least 50 metres) to where we buy petrol on the black market from guys with plastic Jerry cans. The Police are anxious and manhandle a guy who sits down next to me. There urge us swiftly onward to the city limits.

We stop at another checkpoint. We are a massive spectacle. 5 shabby European bikers perched on the steps of their mobile office. It is rush hour, 1000’s of vehicles are passing within metres of us … we understand that we are vulnerable. There is further larking around. The escorts hold our passports so we are unable to ride away into the distance. I grab the passports and run off ….. luckily the cops have a sense of humour.

We are escorted to another stop a further 10 miles down the road. It is getting dark. We are now being escorted by a single cop… no guns. He attempts to flag down passing cars as we refuse to allow him to ride pillion on our bikes. I feel sorry for the guy, In desolate territory with unappreciative guests, the sun having now set this must have been less than rewarding and positively humiliating. A carpenter in a pickup finally offers a ride and we are on the way. The next Checkpoint is maybe 20 miles down the road. We are sat in pitch black next to a fuel  dump. Hundreds of jerry cans of diesel piled up a few feet away from us. Finally we get our last escort to Mirjaveh, the cops manages to flag down a minibus. We check in at the government guest house, slightly frustrated, very tired. I have sore eyes from following the minibus… fumes and dust

Mirjaveh Mileometer 22364