Before crossing the border from Turkey into Iran, it's time for a change of outfit. In the middle of a lorry queue about 5 kilometres long, we say goodbye to our casual cycling clothes and change into "morally appropriate" ones. Long trousers for the man; hair covered with a headscarf, a long-sleeved shirt and of course long trousers for the woman! The border check is quick and straightforward, and our 30-day visa starts now. As at most border crossings, the "street money-changers" soon spot us. Each one offers the best rate and says it's impossible to change foreign currency on the other side of the border. By now we have become a little wiser and only change money outside the customs area, on Iranian soil. For 164 Turkish lira we are handed 1,300,000 Iranian rial (CHF 100.00). Outside the customs area, on Iranian soil, you get twice as much, which means our next accommodation costs only "half". Our piggy bank is happy, and we race downhill to Maku, 22 kilometres away. At the best hotel in town, the Tourist Inn, only the suite is still free. As "rial millionaires" we can afford it, and we spend the night in this oversized suite with 2 rooms and 2 bathrooms.

While stopping under a shady tree, we get talking to a lorry driver. After some initial problems understanding each other, and with the help of the "German - Farsi" phrasebook from "Reise Know-How", it turns out that we are all heading for Tabriz. After tea and biscuits we continue our journey in his lorry. It's already 19:00 when we are dropped off on the edge of Tabriz. Time to look for a hotel. As dusk falls, at 21:00, thanks to a police escort, we find one. The hotel is fully booked! After long discussions at reception we get a room after all. In front of the hotel we meet Frieda and Norbert, a German couple cycling from Shiraz (Iran) to Trabzon (Turkey). We swap experiences, rest for a day, go sightseeing in Tabriz, and then carry on towards Miyaneh. After more than 1,000 metres of climbing, and while looking for drinking water, we come across a station of the Red Crescent paramedics. We know that this organisation also offers free places to sleep, and sure enough we are invited to spend the night at the camp. We quickly set up our mobile beds on the carpeted floor and are welcomed with the obligatory çay. Our next stop is Miyaneh, where we have a tailor alter Claudia's clothes once again. The search for the ideal Iranian cycling clothes – a topic that will keep us busy for quite a while yet! With the help of an Iranian woman and the experienced tailor, the fitting already shows the first signs of success. Claudia now feels visibly relieved and better "ventilated". A group photo with everyone involved, and of course, afterwards there is çay, melon, nuts, and a "Farsi-English" textbook, which we are given as a present when we say goodbye.

The temperatures keep rising, the midday sun is burning, and the road surface reflects the heat. We take it easy and wait at the roadside until the next lorry driver gives us another lift. Once in Takestan, we top up our supplies and set off to look for a suitable place to camp. As usual, not so easy: our "nice to have" list of requirements calls for shelter from the wind, shade, no risk of flooding, as level as possible and without stones, no thorns that could pierce the tent floor, and above all the promise of a quiet night. And if possible no stray dogs, crowing roosters or diesel generators starting up unexpectedly – the list could go on! Only at 20:45 do we find the "right" spot for our tent. The first attempt, in the middle of a plantation, doesn't work out. With everything set up and furnished, a diesel generator with a groundwater pump is started. We already know all about sleepless nights, so we prefer to take everything down, pack up and move on. The second attempt succeeds. A quick introduction to the farmer, with a handshake and a "merci", and our well-earned rest is secured.

On to Hamadan. The temperature in the sun climbs to an unbearable 49 degrees, simply too hot for us. We soon find a solution: at the edge of town we "flag down" a lift. This time it isn't free. For a fare of 200,000 rial (12 euros), we and our bikes are taken to Hamadan in an air-conditioned "VIP coach". At no extra cost we get a snack and hot tea. Another 175 kilometres covered, we cycle a short 8 kilometres into the town centre, where we will visit the sights of Hamadan the next morning.

In the cities we mostly get around on foot, and we don't go unnoticed. The astonished faces and smiles of the locals don't go unnoticed by us either. Tourists are unusual here, and in our strikingly "adapted" clothing we look exotic. As will turn out later, we had already been spotted as we rode into the city and were registered at precisely 16:47.......story to follow.

We are greeted with unmissable calls of "hello" and "where are you from". Our answers: "no Farsi" and "Switzerland". To our surprise: the "Rolling Stones" are just as unknown as "Switzerland", but "Dolce & Gabbana" is a name everyone knows.
While looking for something to photograph, we are approached by a man with dual US-Persian citizenship. He has noticed our aimlessness – and we notice his English mixed with a parallel mobile phone conversation in "Farsi". He spontaneously invites us on a "sightseeing tour" in his slightly battered Peugeot. In this travel report we will call our new companion "Israf".........story to follow.

A sightseeing drive through Hamadan or Esfahan is an adventure that can't be beaten. Pure adrenaline! It outdoes everything we have ever seen! It's not the temperament of the driver, but the "lawlessness" that decides how the traffic flows. Even the police have to bow to the "local customs". Two-wheelers are barely tolerated, pedestrians are an obstacle. You find elderly people neither behind the wheel nor crossing the road. One hand on the wheel, the other on the horn, and the mobile phone wedged between ear and shoulder. Although we didn't see a single accident in the cities, the statistics are frightening. In 2006 there were reportedly 28,000 road deaths and 270,000 injuries, with 74 million inhabitants.

By now our acquaintance with "Israf" has grown into a friendship. He handles his "original Peugeot" (not an Iranian copy) superbly, so in no time at all we know every sight and the few traffic lights. We gladly accept his invitation to dinner and to stay the night, and he picks us up in front of the hotel in his "original Peugeot with Iranian number plates".

At his family's home, sitting comfortably over tea and dates, the phone rings: "Are the 2 cycle tourists who arrived in Hamadan yesterday at 16:47 with you? – YES – Come to headquarters, all of you, with the passports." After our passports have been checked, 2 hours follow: us on folding chairs in the anteroom, our friend "Israf" in the interrogation room. The accusation of breaking the law: "A tourist is not permitted to accept a private Iranian invitation without the consent of the police." A report is written by hand, our passports are copied, and "Israf" receives a warning. The invitation is forbidden under threat of punishment, and we are given 2 options: "Go back to the hotel, or leave the city, stating your destination." Contrary to every travel report we had read, we, like those involved, knew nothing about this rule. We prefer to set off immediately for Esfahan.

An unusually strong headwind stops us from making quick progress. This time we are offered a "cosy" little spot for the tent. Not a bad idea: spending a quiet night sheltered by the neighbouring woods. The wind has turned 180 degrees, storm gusts shake the outer tent and the guy ropes vibrate. Woken from his sleep, Alex has to secure the tent against "taking off" with extra pegs and stones. Our Hilleberg holds firm, and we can retreat into our sleeping bags. Meanwhile the temperatures have moderated too: 3 days ago it was 49 in the sun, and now it's only 23 degrees. We get up early and battle our way to Arak into a headwind (we already know all about those from Turkey). For our lunch break we eat in a small lokanta and are surprised by a typical, delicious Iranian dish (photo Iran No. 33). Further on, at the halfway point, we meet a fellow cyclist from Poland. We quickly swap website addresses, and then the good news: now it's the remaining 65 kilometres smoothly and steadily downhill. The result was a new daily record, Gonbad to Arak, 156 kilometres.

Evenings at the hotel: 18:30 "check-in", a freshly made bed; shower and wash the dusty clothes at the same time, write the report, get the photos ready, update the internet, charge the batteries, make coffee on the MSR stove in the bathroom (ideally under the extractor fan), top up our supplies, 23:00 sleep.
Mornings at the hotel: 06:30 get up, 7:00 breakfast, taking whatever we like from the buffet, snacks for the road included, pack the bags, "check-out" at 08:30, off we go.

The remaining 320 kilometres still mean 2 more nights in the tent. We only just manage to reach the goals we have set ourselves, because fierce headwinds or crosswinds take a lot of strength and nerve. In Esfahan we are already expected at the beautifully restored, 400-year-old "Dibai House", near the bazaar and the Harounieh Mosque. We have planned 3 days off to recover and a trip to Shiraz.

To our surprise, "Israf" has decided at short notice to follow us 500 kilometres from Hamadan on the night bus. He has relatives here in Esfahan, a chance to get hold of another "original Peugeot" for sightseeing. Our friend's driving skills can't be beaten here either. The "highlights" are soon captured on camera, the Iranian ice cream speciality tested – it really tastes good – and evening has come. In the meantime his uncle has organised a picnic in the park with us and his family. Even though the headscarf and the Islamic rules and customs are always there, we spend a spontaneous, relaxed evening full of laughter.

We are allowed to leave our bikes and luggage at the guesthouse. With only the bare essentials in 2 small backpacks, we take the "VIP bus" to Shiraz, a 6-hour journey. A 485-kilometre route, dead straight, bleak and boring. The bus is air-conditioned, generously laid out with only 3 x 15 seats, and has plenty of legroom and space to recline. Listening to music and writing our travel report, we "shorten" the time and reach Shiraz in the evening. By bike, the journey would have taken a week.

The fastest and most comfortable way to see a city in Iran is by taxi. Above all, you aren't constantly exposed to the heat. Through a recommendation we find an English-speaking tour guide who, for a flat day rate of only 60 euros, takes us to all the ancient buildings worth seeing (guide, driver, air-conditioned car and all entrance fees included). In the morning we visit the inner part of Shiraz, and in the afternoon we drive to Naqsh-e Rostam, the necropolis, and to Persepolis, where we learn a lot about the history of Persia and its kings. Back at the hotel at 21:00 – the next day at 13:00 back to Esfahan by coach, to the "Dibai House". That leaves us one more day to do the laundry and plan the rest of our journey.

The east of Iran seems unsuitable for cyclists to us. Already in May the thermometer climbs to 40 degrees around midday. The heat takes a lot of energy, and you need twice as much to drink. The 300 kilometres from Esfahan to Yazd gave us a first impression of what cycling through a desert-like dry region feels like. Incredibly hot, bleak, dead straight, little vegetation, boring, and long stretches without a hard shoulder. The infrastructure "thins out", and the places to buy supplies get further and further apart. Once again there are 800 metres of climbing, and our routes are often at 2,300 metres above sea level. After 100 km we spend the first night in "Kuhpayeh" in the tent, bedded on sand. Another 125 km without any climbs, then the second night, on a carpet at someone's invitation. The rest from "Aqda", 115 km to go, "head down, eyes on infinity", and we reach the "Silk Road Hotel" in Yazd. Once, and never again!

For the next day, the "Silk Road Tour" is planned. It's the most popular excursion around Yazd, through the desert and the pre-Islamic town of Meybod. From 08:00 to 15:00, for a flat price of 1,000,000 rial (CHF 60.00), with a guide, there's plenty to see:

Mud brick village
Shaking Minaret
4000 years old citadel of kharanagh
Zaprastrian's holy temple
Narin castle
Caravanserai
Ice house

We still have 2 hours left to walk the 5-kilometre "City Walkway" through the old town. It's best not to leave the well-signposted route. If you haven't got lost, you should come across the following ancient buildings:

• Jameh Mosque
  Alexander Prison

One more sight you shouldn't miss: the free tour of the "Fahadan Hotel" (ask at reception), not far from "Alexander Prison".

Yazd, one of the oldest historic cities in Iran, lies between the Dasht-e Kavir and Dasht-e Lut deserts. The city was founded at an oasis and, according to historical records, has existed since the third millennium BC. Its architecture is unique in history. Many fire temples (atashkadeh) can still be found here today. When it was founded, the city is said to have been on the shore of a large inland lake. To this day, water channels and pipes, some of them built in ancient times, are used for the water supply.
Yazd is one of the oldest cities (in the world) and lies in the middle of the provinces of Fars, Isfahan, Kerman and Khorasan. On the route of the Silk Road, in ancient times Yazd was an important crossroads for many travellers and merchants.
According to UNESCO, Yazd is the second-largest city built with fired clay bricks. The old part is fortified by a high mud-brick wall dating back to the 5th century. The Narin fort (the largest mud-brick caravanserai) and the Jameh Mosque, whose origins go back more than 1,000 years, are masterpieces of Islamic architecture.
Yazd's wind towers, the natural cooling systems for houses and public buildings, remain a wonder of architectural planning.

900 kilometres to Mashhad? No thank you! About 400 kilometres of it run through the "Dasht-e Lut" desert. Following the good advice of the locals, who know what they are talking about, we buy two tickets north for 300,000 rial including bikes (CHF 15.00). At 20:00 we leave Yazd to arrive in Mashhad on the night bus after a 12-hour journey.

16 hours by bus, this time not VIP, which showed in the service and the late departure. On top of that, while one bike was being unloaded, the rear-view mirror came off the handlebars. Annoying: a repair in unfamiliar surroundings always takes a lot of time.

The Holy Shrine! Taking photos is not allowed, either inside or outside. As non-Muslims, access to the inner area is closed to us. Believer or not, anyone who wants to be inside the barriers must wear a chador. Claudia has the option of renting one to get in. But neither of us will get to see the Holy Shrine. We do without that fortune and look at its magic in the photographic masterpieces instead. In countless photo studios, "digital artists" create souvenirs and family keepsakes. Proof of the pilgrimage can be bought for anything from 60,000 rial to "the sky's the limit". The crush in the streets and on the pavements is correspondingly great. After one day we leave Mashhad with relief, heading for Sarakhs.

Mashhad is the second-largest city in Iran and is considered one of the seven holy places of Shia Islam. Because of the holy Goharshad Mosque, the city became a religious centre. Every year more than 100,000 Shia pilgrims visit this place of pilgrimage. Mashhad's special religious importance for Iran comes from the fact that the remains of the (eighth) Imam Reza are buried here. Mashhad benefited from its location on the Silk Road and was a trading point on the way between West and East.

Getting out of Mashhad, no problem for us? But the Iranian driving style and the heavy traffic block our way too. "Stop and go", honking, pushing, phoning and waving through the window at the same time – unbelievable, and yet it works.

The road from Mashhad to Sarakhs, as it presented itself to us, can be described in just one word: "headwind" – head-on! Again and again this hot, relentless north wind. At a snail's pace of 12 - 14 km/h into the wind, we didn't even notice the 600 metres of climbing – and that was only by pedalling hard! We have never experienced anything like it! The glaring sun, which pushes temperatures up to 49 degrees, dries us out. We drink about 10 litres of water a day and are grateful that passing drivers keep handing us bottles of water.

We wanted to reach Sarakhs, the border town with Turkmenistan, in 2 days. The daily stages couldn't be kept to, and we were still 30 kilometres short of the border. Because we never ride after dark, another night in the tent was unavoidable. Camping on the way is no problem as long as you carry enough water. We had too little! The solution: collect the empty PET bottles at the roadside and wave at the approaching vehicles. A water tanker stops, and from an oversized outlet valve 8 litres of water were quickly filled, leaving the road and my shoes soaking wet.

We spend one more day recovering in Sarakhs, to collect the required visa the next day and cross the border into Turkmenistan.

Iran for beginners:
Anyone who wants to travel in Iran should first get properly acquainted with the rules and customs!

Dress code:
Long trousers for men and women. Women: a head covering (choose a silk scarf or an airy cotton scarf, never synthetic), and long-sleeved tops reaching over the bottom. Travelling by bike can become an ordeal! A woman must be aware that she will be out in almost 50 degrees in the sun in "dress code". This rule must be followed without fail.

Money, currency and exchange rate (inflation is 25%!)
Bring enough cash (preferably) in euros or US dollars. It's impossible to use a credit card in Iran or to get money in any form. The many cash machines only accept Iranian cards. Money by airmail or bank transfer is simply impossible. If you lose your money, your only option is to go to the consulate!
The national currency is the rial; but prices are mostly given in toman. 10,000 rial equals 1,000 toman; it's the same banknote. Careful: make sure you know which one you're talking about!
Money is best changed, for example, in Tabriz at "Daraie Amirno", or with a "money-changer" on foot; ask around, with caution.
Changing money at a bank or in a hotel? Unfortunately you only get half for each unit of currency!
Exchange rate in May 2012 in Tabriz:
1 euro = 11,000 to 22,000 rial
1 US$ = 8,000 to 16,000 rial

Language:
National = Persian, local = Turkish, 6 languages across the country.
In English, anything is possible, from no knowledge at all to perfect.

Shopping:
You can buy everything, almost everything, but there is no money for tourists. Under the women's chadors hide lingerie, brand-name goods and copies. The products (even those you wouldn't dare think about) are displayed in the shops and can be bought freely, but they may only be tried on behind closed doors.
3 kinds of flatbread, it doesn't get any cheaper."

Other things:
No restaurants as we know them, more like lokandas with 6 - 10 tables
Salad or vegetables are the exception, stews and fast food the rule
Mostly squat toilets, only occasionally sit-down ones, sometimes with paper and a flush
Only a few hotels; for example: in Hamadan, 7 hotels for 500,000 inhabitants
The largest cities are Tehran, Esfahan, Tabriz, Shiraz, Yazd and Mashhad
Iran has 74 million inhabitants
You can't miss the countless boxes of tissues, but you'll look in vain for packets of paper handkerchiefs
Alcohol, physical contact before marriage and homosexuality are forbidden
Women are not allowed to ride bicycles; dress code for girls from the age of 9
Pets that have to be taken for walks are not allowed
At 2,000 metres above sea level, Hamadan is the 2nd-highest city in Iran
Equal rights are a foreign concept
If a woman dies, the insurance pays her surviving family only half the pension
A man may marry several women, but a woman only one man

We leave Iran with these memories:
Seen a lot, and a little
Mosques covered with mosaics, and historic buildings
Friendly, helpful people
Islam bound up with the state
"Wild West" traffic conditions
Dry, hot, dusty, sand, little vegetation
Storm gusts from every direction, no rain
Sweaty clothing
Tea, tea, tea – you'll look in vain for coffee as a ready-made drink
Most of our routes were at an average of 2,000 metres above sea level

Biker info for the route

-	Active (17 days of riding)	1,460	kilometres
-	Total climbing	8,480	m
-	Average speed	19	km/h
-	Riding time in motion	78:33	hrs