The Boggy trundles slowly onwards, heading east, says Guy Craigie, as they meet friendly locals
WITH HIS Iranian visa sorted, Dave Russell didn't have to book a flight back to Ireland and joined us on the next leg. Finally, we're back on the road. Leaving Istanbul, we crossed the Bosphorus into Asia, and the start of the toughest part of our journey.
The drive east towards Iran brought us along the valley of the Firat Nehri river - a truly spectacular drive. As darkness fell, we pitched our tent in a bug-infested farm and, after a disgusting dinner of powdered stew, retired to the tent early to avoid being massacred by mosquitos.
After waking, Ben and David studied our progress, and made a depressing realisation of just how truly slow our old VW is. To get to the Iranian border on time, we would have to pull an all nighter. The reality of the practical decision proved rather more frightening than even we expected as -it often meant cosying up to speeding lorries in front to follow their lights - making driving through the mountainous regions somewhat manageable, although how we made it through without crashing is anybody's guess.
So far on the trip, we've noticed how locals always warns us of dangers in neighbouring countries. Turkey was no different - those in the west warn of the dangers of Kurdish eastern Turkey. The conflict in the region became alarmingly apparent as we witnessed an explosion at an army fuel depot, only 30 minutes after passing into the Kurdish region.
We pulled in for a few hours nap during the overnight drive, and were relieved that the entry into Iran was pleasant, if not overly efficient. Getting through the border, getting a transit carnet and insurance for the car took most of the afternoon. Everybody we've met so far could not have been more friendly, and welcomed us with open arms in to their country.
We thought we were well prepared for the infamous Iranian driving. Little did we know: never ever drive in Iran. It's about as much fun as a game of Russian roulette. The roads here are populated with reconditioned old Peugeots, Renaults, Kias and Iran Khondas, presumably an Iranian car company.
The kamikaze drivers think nothing of heading up motorways the wrong way or reversing back up them to take the turn-off they missed up. Speed limits are rigorously ignored, as are the rules of the road.
We spent a night in a cheap motel in Tabriz, and from there we drove down to Tehran where we stayed in the home of some incredibly generous friends back in Ireland, where we were looked after and fed beyond expectation by Amin, their farm manager.
Tehran is an interesting city, chaotic and hot, as one would expect from a city of well over a million cars and 12 million people. Having a comfortable place to stay really was an oasis of calm and a real treat after the previous week's mayhem.
Northern Iran, we have been told, is completely different to the barren hilliness of what we had encountered so far. Last night we made our way up towards Sari near the Caspian Sea - getting lost in Tehran for four hours due to horrific traffic. Thankfully - as always here - some friendly Iranians stopped their cars in the middle of the road to help us.
So far the Iranians are the nicest people we have met, immensely eager to help visitors to their country. An example of this was on Sunday when getting petrol.
We had run out of Iranian currency and only had dollars to pay (credit cards are not accepted). The customers of the petrol station came over and told the petrol pump attendant to fill up our tank for free for the simple reason "that Ireland is a nice place" according to the locals. We couldn't believe our luck.
By the time you read this we will be in Sari in northern Iran. After that we'll continue our journey towards Ashgabet, to enter "the Stans", starting with Turkmenistan. The real adventure has begun.
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