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adventure & travel

Biking over Tehran

The hot springs of Tehran

by Jan Sallawitz 07/28/2009
Still high above the city, we lie on a rocky plateau in the sun and grin like crazy. What a country, what a descent! The ground becomes darker and sandier, and many sections are now paved with steps and walls. We seem to be approaching the urban area again. But the altimeter still shows 2500 meters.
Whenever we think that the city finally begins around the next bend, the path becomes wilder and more technical again. At least we meet people again who greet us with a big "hello" and insist on a souvenir photo together. We don't actually reach the bottom until early evening. The brakes are smoking and everyone is tired – but happy and enriched by a first-class descent.

Still high above the city, we lie on a rocky plateau in the sun and grin like crazy. What a country, what a descent! The ground becomes darker and sandier, and many sections are now paved with steps and walls. We seem to be approaching the urban area again. But the altimeter still shows 2500 meters.
Whenever we think that the city finally begins around the next bend, the path becomes wilder and more technical again. At least we meet people again who greet us with a big "hello" and insist on a souvenir photo together. We don't actually reach the bottom until early evening. The brakes are smoking and everyone is tired - but happy and enriched by a top-class descent.

The day starts early - with sunshine, of course. We quickly pack up our camp and take the gondola up to the highest station. We are greeted by a cold wind - and a large hotel, the Tochal Complex. You can spend the night in the ski area at an altitude of 3750 meters. But we are more interested in the upcoming descent. Almost 2500 meters of altitude await us. And it's a tough one. After a very steep and, due to the altitude, extremely strenuous ascent over ski resort gravel to the Tochal summit, the fun begins with a trail made up of large shards of stone. It sounds as if you are riding over an oversized xylophone. This trail stretches for kilometers along a mountain ridge before descending in steep serpentines towards the town. We come across a horde of horses that only look up briefly as we pass them in a cloud of dust. A clay path repeatedly changes sides of the stream we are shooting along via small fords. Rocky ribs stretching down the mountain flanks from far above cross our path again and again, spicing it up with challenging sections. Those who manage to stay on the bike are cheered on by the others. The descent takes so long that our forearms start to ache - and it doesn't look like we're getting much closer to the town. A small valley opens up and invites us to play with berms and small jumps, then the path becomes steeper again. A break. Our arms are aching from the constant downhill, so we stop. No one had thought it necessary to stop for lunch on the downhill so far.

We spend the last few hours of our trip in the city. Once again, we enjoy a sumptuous meal with our hosts and all our new friends. Once again, we enjoy the overwhelming hospitality that comes so naturally to the people here. Once again, we have a spontaneous party with people we have just met on the street. Once again, the laws of the land are subordinated to the fun... until there is almost no time left to catch the plane. The night is almost over when our plane takes off from the dark and bumpy runway and heads west...

Text: Jan Sallawitz | all photos: Stefan Hunziger

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