Down from the Zagros into Arab lands

After a three weeks break, our asses needed to be molded to the seat again, and we managed to get out of the city early enough to avoid the traffic. Back on the road again, we enjoyed the chilly breeze of freedom.
It was quite cold though, and soon we took a wrong turn leading to a steel factory and a dead end. There was a small kiosk, and happily we entered to get a coffee. When you look like you're freezing and stiff, people pity you a bit, so we had been again invited by the generous owner.

We were about to cross the Zagros Mountains now, this historical border separating empires and nations which are having conflicts tracing back to the earliest days of Muslim expansion. We were lucky since it is cold over here but dry, and we had a great ride to Lordegan. We found an ecolodge, empty as the season is over, and were happy for the great meal our Bakhtiari hosts provided us, a hot shower, and the gas stove.
Pouring rain in the night but again we were lucky: the way down to Shushtar was a piece of cake.

In Shushtar we entered a historical hotel that reflects the town’s former importance. The city was a major center of water management, renowned for its sophisticated hydraulic system of canals, tunnels, and watermills. This outstanding example of refined ancient engineering regulated irrigation for the surrounding agricultural lands and used flowing water to power mills.

We rode to Ahvaz, an oil city not worth the visit but we were curious. The population is mainly Arab speaking and very friendly. We then headed back north to Shush, where RidingKismet visited the late 19th century fortress which was built by French archaeologists as a base for excavations at the ancient city of Susa, serving as housing for researchers and a secure place to store and protect their stolen goods. In the meantime, IronChris guarded the bikes and had the greatest time ever with some kids. From their own bicycle, they give us some new valve covers that are FUCKING SICK.

Since goodbyes suck, we avoid them. In the case of FlyingNick 🪽, we didn't want to let go but to meet up again somewhere to have a last supper in the wild. We had agreed to meet up a couple days later in the bushes somewhere at the Ziggurat of Chogha Zanbil, and it worked out. We sat at the campfire with bebe beers and harpy rock'n'roll music, the dogs were happy for some chicken that was actually Nick's (in exchange, they would bark all night long, barking the enemies away...). We didn't go to sleep before the last embers turned dark, and we woke up late when a shepherd brought his goats over.
Nick had his eight breakfast cigarettes, then he saddled the donkey, fist bump, and away we go, brother - see you someday, somewhere, inshallah.

A bit lost now, we headed back towards the mountains - this could not have been it with the Zagros, and to the west there will be only plains and deserts. A small detour but it was cold up there and earnings for snow storms, so we turned left towards the border with Iraq. A big, stinky hotel room here costs as much as two doppelter expresso in Almanya, and early in the morning we headed out to have a last refill with Iranian cheap juice and to be the first ones at the border. Will we make it to Baghdad today?Leggi altro