Archives for October 2015

Iran Adventure: Part 3 – To Damavand

31st October 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Please click here for Part 2. Part 3 of this blog describes our journey to Damavand, one of the Volcanic Seven Summits.

I awoke at Shirpala on 4^th August after a better night’s sleep – but not a great one. Breakfast was at a late 8am – it was also not great today so I raided some of the food left over from my lunch supplies. Today we were to descend back down to Darband and then drive 50 plus miles to Damavand.

It was another beautiful day with barely any smog.

A group of giddy Iranian women were making some noise in the courtyard. They had obviously had a relatively early start from Darband and had brewed some tea in the sunshine, and were off to Tochal. It would be impressive if they made it given the total 2,200m (7,200ft) height gain, let alone possible altitude effects.

As is necessary in Iran, their walking gear was loose fitting and most had head scarves, though a couple were a bit more rebellious and just had baseball caps with hair tied back. We could even hear their giggling as it drifted across the still air as they set off up the zig zags.

We ourselves left Shirpala around 9am.

The descent through the roped section was easier than I had anticipated.

When we reached the outskirts of the village we took a higher route and so did not pass the restaurants again. I do not know why this was done as it was less interesting. But we did now have a look at a chairlift that follows the gorge.

But eventually we ended up by the statue. A few from the group made a beeline for an ice cream parlour. It was hot, hot, hot – probably around 35C-38C. I just glugged some water. My innards were feeling better but I did not want to risk the ice cream.

A nice large modern people carrier was waiting for us. And the bags we had left behind at Kassa Tours had already been loaded. There were seats for 12, though three of these had been taken up with boxes of food and cooking equipment. Our two junior guides were dropped off separately in Tehran. The driver fought our way out of Tehran.

It was so hot that Mehti decided that a traditional Iranian cold dish was called for. The driver stopped the vehicle at the side of the busy road and Mehti returned a short while later with Persian ice cream sitting in faludeh. It was rude to refuse. Faludeh is a frozen syrup with vermicelli noodles and flavoured with rose water. It was quite nice, different. Though I did not manage all of the vermicelli as they were a bit starchy.

At about 2pm we arrived in the town of Polour, which is the nearest town to Damavand. The restaurant we were to visit was on the opposite side of the road. So our driver decided to make a U-turn in the four lane highway. As he straddled the road (the outside lanes in each direction) we heard a squeal of tyres as a car that was coming from the direction we had realised there was a blockage. I steeled myself for the impact. Fortunately it never came.

That excitement over, we pulled up outside the restaurant and went in. We were shown to a long table by the entrance. A dirty window at the back gave us a view of Damavand. It looked gloomy up there. We were presented with a veritable feast. There were lamb and chicken kebabs, flat bread, pickles, salad, yoghurt, garlic, eggplant and saffron rice. Drinks comprised carbonated drinks and doogh. Doogh is a traditional yoghurt based drink with water, salt and mint. To my taste it was both odd and quite nice!

From there we were driven a short distance to “base camp”. It is perhaps now worth explaining that there are routes up all sides of Damavand. We would climb the most popular, south side. On this side there is base camp, camp 1 and camp 2. Base camp comprises a large building at 2,200m (the Polour Camp) run by the Iranian Mountaineering and Sport Climbing Federation. It is not a base camp in the traditional sense. It is a large 3 storey building with a number of dormitories, cooking facilities, a climbing wall, offices and an indoor sports hall.

Polour Camp, Mount Damavand - one of the Volcanic Seven Summits

Indeed you can barely even see the mountain from there.

A glimpse of Damavand - one of the volcanic seven summits - from Polour Camp

We would stop here on our return. But for now we would swap our people carrier for more robust vehicles that would take us and our gear to camp 1. The place was busy with climbers celebrating a successful climb and others, like us, preparing to go up.

We had a bit of a wait and I spent some time talking to a dentist from Shiraz. He had summited the day before. From our discussion, he seemed keen to move to Europe to practice and the UK would be his favoured destination. He peppered me with questions about visas and life generally in the UK. It was quite interesting to see how many people were able to speak quite good English, especially when they had never had the opportunity to go abroad. In the case of this guy, his degree had been in engineering and English was required for this degree.

We had to leave and I said goodbye. Our vehicles were packed.

And we set off in our 4WDs. One was a Jeep Wagoneer, a car that we had used on Orizaba in Mexico last year. They are great cars for rough roads/tracks. But I was in the other car with Phil and the guides!

Having lost our two young guides we were joined here by Majid, an Iraqi Kurd. He had moved to Iran at the time of the Iran-Iraq war and he spoke with a thick accent. Mehti seemed to regard him as a bit of a super hero. Majid was married, his wife also being a climber, with a two year old son. Majid had climbed on big, cold mountains and had lost a number of toes in doing so.

After an initial 15/20 minutes on tarmac we turned off on to a track and had a bumpy 45 minute ride up to camp 1 at 3,200m (9,000ft) passing shepherds with their flocks and guard dogs.

Damavand - one of the volcanic seven summits

Camp 1 is called Goosfand Sar and we would stay here the night. I was slightly concerned about this camp because my research before going to Iran suggested that this camp was crowded, noisy and dirty. As it happens, I did not think that it was too bad. It even comes with its own mosque.

Damavand - one of the Volcanic Seven Summits - from Goosfand Sar

Our accommodation was to be a converted stable. Here we are making ourselves at home.

And here is a short video clip showing the surroundings.

As we festered at one end of the building – reading, snoozing or listening to music – our guides prepared and cooked our meal over gas stoves. All day I had been cursing the fact that I seemed to have lost my buff. This had been a life saver in South America, especially once I had developed my throat problems. I had searched high and low for it in the hut on Tochal, looking around my bunk and emptying my rucksack at least twice. I was depending on it being available for the higher altitudes on Damavand. But I could not find it anywhere.

For dinner we were having chicken in batter plus sliced roast potatoes and salad. A table cloth was laid on the floor and we sat cross-legged around it. I found myself a roof support to lean against. Although I was now regretting again the ice cream I had had earlier in the day, I ate enough.

So we were now set for our attempt on the highest volcano in Asia. Tomorrow we would ascend to camp 2, the day after we would go on an acclimatisation walk to 5,200m or so and the following day we would make the summit attempt.

Before turning in I went outside to have one last look at the view.

In my next blog (please click here) I will tell the story of my time on the upper reaches of Mount Damavand.

Iran Adventure: Part 2 – Mount Tochal

28th October 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Part 1 of this blog can be found here. This part covers our ascent of Mount Tochal, part of our acclimatisation for Damavand.

I had not slept so well in ages. 10 hours solid. I must have been tired. Yde and I went down to breakfast. We did not see any of the others as we tucked into cucumber, tomato, pastries and orange juice. I ignored the other savoury items.

We then packed up our final things and met the rest of the group in reception. Soon we were squeezing into a too small people carrier, gear stuffed in the back and lying in the aisle. We had two additional young guides join us at this point. First stop was the offices of Kassa Tours, our in-country agency. We left spare kit here, so that would leave more room in the vehicle. Before we left we had a briefing about the days ahead plus some teas/coffees/water.

It was hot outside and it was before 10am. I could feel the sun burning through my thin top. We left and drove on for 10 minutes and stopped again to collect our food for the next few days – 3 large ziplock bags with a mix of fruit, nuts, sweets, biscuits and a couple of wraps plus a small plastic bottle each of Coke and Pepsi. I had filled my water bottles in the hotel. I was told that was OK but my tummy felt odd – but this could have been something I had eaten. Finally we drove north and battled our way through the Tehran traffic.

Today we could see the indistinct shape of the mountains rising to the north, their orange-brown colour merging with what smog there was. We slowly made progress, dodging motorcycles coming the wrong way down one way streets and pedestrians who had no option but to risk life and limb to cross the jammed roads. Eventually we came to the end of the road at Darband, a northern suburb of the Tehran conurbation. Darband means “gateway to the mountain” because it is the start of the most popular trail up Mount Tochal which rises above Tehran.

Mount Tochal is 3,964m (13,005ft) high. Its ascent would take two days and was part of our acclimatisation for Mount Damavand. On the first day we would ascend to the Shirpala shelter at about 2,700m (8,800ft) and attempt the summit the following day.

Darban is quite a cosmopolitan place. A square at the beginning of the trail has a statue of a mountaineer.

A few last minute kit adjustments and we were off at just after 11am but not before Mehti had insisted on taking some video of us by the statue.

The trail follows a gorge with an attendant stream, switching sides from time to time. Restaurants and kiosks selling drinks and the usual tourist stuff lined the way. It reminded me of the path up to the cave temples on Elephanta Island in Mumbai harbour. To counter the heat some of the restaurants have seats in the stream bed.

At first the trail is narrow but motorable. It is then narrow and cobbled. As the eateries thin out the trail becomes a dirt trail. And the numbers of people also thin out. It was warm and became even more so as we left the shelter of the trees. After an hour we found some shade to stop in and I had a drink and a snack.

Gradually the view opened up. Here is a first glimpse back to Tehran and a zoom from the same point taken after about 80 minutes.

And the way ahead (which followed the obvious gulley line).

As the terrain became steeper the path was graded.

We passed the occasional sign which purported to tell us what altitude we had reached. It no doubt told us other things but we could not understand them! As far as altitude was concerned we learned not to trust them because we might be going few a few minutes and the next sign would claim that we had gained height that was simply implausible.

It became hot. We stopped again after a further 45 minutes. We looked for any shade we could find. By now Arrvind and Neil were slower than the rest of us. So we waited for them to catch up.

Then we were off again. The terrain becomes much rougher and aid has been installed. It is a shame really because a good old scramble would have been fun. So we had rope slung between metal posts (some of which were loose), steps laid on or cut into the rock and even a couple of sets of stairs. All the while views back to the city were opening up – albeit with a smoggy perspective.

After 3 hours we emerged from a small piece of woodland and looked up to see the Shirpala shelter. This was quite a construction, built in the early 1970’s by the Iranian Mountaineering Federation. It would be our home for two nights.

The Shirpala shelter on Mount Tochal — **The Shirpala shelter**

A substantial stone built building, it was about 4 storeys high. Inside there was a common room, restaurant, dormitories, toilets and a mosque. We were too early as the custodian had not opened up the dormitories. So we spent some time on a nice open area looking back the way we had come.

The writer on the terrace at the Shirpala shelter, Mount Tochal — **Yours truly on the terrace at the Shirpala shelter**

And an Iranian flag cracked in the stiff breeze.

As the evening drew in, the smog below lifted and the views down to Tehran improved.

View from the Shirpala shelter on Mount Tochal — ***View from the Shirpala shelter***

Here is zoom towards the Milad Tower, the highest structure in Iran at 435m (1,427ft) high. It is also the 6th tallest tower in the world.

We were allocated a dormitory, but the Germans had got their ~~towels~~ sleeping bags down first, so we had to move. Never mind it was cosy enough. We festered until 6pm when dinner was to be served in the restaurant. Or at least Persian time meant that it arrived at around 6.30pm. The large German group was there. They had posh plates and metal cutlery. We had paper plates and plastic cutlery! The food was good though – salad followed by a noodle soup and then chicken nuggets (!), gherkins, olives and some flatbread.

My tummy was still feeling a bit odd. I bought some bottled water to reduce the risk of any bother! The toilets were the proverbial ceramically surrounded hole in the ground, typical of the middle-east and beyond.

By 8pm it was dark:

The following morning the Germans were off before us. But we never saw them again, not because they were fast but because they did not climb the mountain.

“Sleep” had been horrid. Even with the window open it was hot. I was just in my sleeping bag liner and did not need the thick blanket. Others’ snoring did not help. Neither did the mobile phones that were left switched on so that various electronic noises occasionally permeated the darkness. This included an alarm that went off at 1.10am. Hmm.

The proper alarm went off at 5.30am for a 6am breakfast. “Urgh” was my contribution to the breakfast conversation. We left at 7.05am. The path began up some steep manmade zig zags. Once the initial skyline was reached, the path remained clear and the angle eased a bit. Gradually the ridge line formed. This we followed for a bit before it rose more steeply again up to another ridge line. We had been going only 30 minutes or so but we had a rest and re-hydrated with a stupendous view over Tehran.

Here is a short video clip at our stop.

Arrvind and Neil arrived a little after the rest of us. We started off again. It was warm again. The gradient steepened once more. We could see another shelter up ahead, arriving there 50 minutes after our previous stop. There is a sad story behind the construction of this shelter. This is the Amiri shelter at around 3,480m. A family of a young climber who had died of exposure near this point had organised its construction.

The Amiri shelter on Mount Tochal — ***The Amiri shelter***

By now Arrvind and Neil were some way behind. We could see Arrvind but not Neil. Inside, the shelter was a decent size and the building had thick walls. Certainly a sound shelter in poor weather. We left just before Arrvind arrived. We could now see Neil below. But the two of them each had one of the young guides with them. After this point I had to put in effort to keep up with the other four plus Mehti. Eventually, two or three minutes from our next rest stop I dropped back. This final stop was at about 3,700m. I had a nice stop here.

We could see the buildings on the summit from here. I let the others start off before me. I stuffed an energy gel into my mouth and followed 3 minutes behind.

Now, on the final broad ridge, the principal reason we had come to Iran came into view.

There 40 miles to the east rose Mount Damavand. I got myself into a good rhythm and followed the others.

By 11am I was at the top, a couple of minutes behind the leading group. It was beautiful and still. Here I am.

On Mount Tochal's summit with Damavand in the background — ***On Mount Tochal’s summit with Damavand in the background***

And here is a video clip at the summit. And no, Phil is not doing what you might think he is doing!

I had a well-deserved drink.

Rob and I shared out some Jelly Babies, Arrvind arrived 15 minutes later and then we generally festered allowing the altitude to do the necessary to our red blood cell count.

We were up there around 1hr 45 minutes. We sunbathed. It was probably the warmest I had ever been at around 4,000m. We took in the views. Here is one to the west. Mount Tochal is at the edge of a ski area. In fact there is a ski lift that takes you to about 30 minutes’ walk of the summit. There are a couple of buildings on the top. One seemed to be some sort of monitoring station and was not accessible. The other (the orange one) was a shelter, quite large inside really.

Damavand drew the eye, but waves of dry ragged peaks ranged around to the north and north-west. To the north but unseen to us lay the Caspian Sea. It is the moist air from that direction that deposits copious amounts of snow on these mountains in winter. But now, in August, the snow line was well over 4,000m so that snow was only on a few of the peaks.

Shortly before we left, Neil struggled to the top with his guide and someone else they had picked up en route. He looked spent – but a heroic effort. He would rest a while so as to assist with acclimatisation. So off we went.

We just had one brief stop on the way down, by the Amiri shelter. The way down was as hot and dusty as the way up. In fact there was not much in the way of flora and fauna. Here are some flowers that were trying to survive in the harsh environment. We heard some distant sheep and saw an occasional bird. But that was about it.

Soon we were looking down again at the Shirpala shelter.

And we were back around 2.45pm. So, in the light of the stops, a relatively quick (and unremarkable) descent. I was quite dehydrated by this time. The guides found us some welcome non-alcoholic beer with peach flavouring.

I spent some time on the terrace writing up my log. Eventually Neil came into view and was back with the rest by 5pm – in time for dinner at 6pm. The view was better than before. The pollution over Tehran had gone and the city was spread out below me in the evening sun, the sun setting at around 8pm.

The evening meal comprised salad, vegetable soup and a lamb stew with rice. Very acceptable. So it was off to bed with the first phase of our trip nearly over. Tomorrow would see us on the way to Damavand.

Please click here for Part 3 of this blog

Iran Adventure: Part 1 – To Tehran

13th October 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

For Iran, like Russia and some other countries, a letter of invitation is needed from a tour company before a tourist visa can be applied for. Before then you complete an application form and send this to the tour company. For British citizens (and US, Canadian and Australian ones too) you have to travel within Iran with a guide. So for my trip the application forms for all of our group had to be submitted before the tour company could then apply to the Interior Ministry in Tehran for authorisation.

The authorisation comes in the form of a code. That code then entitles you to go to the Iranian embassy or consulate that you have specified on your application form in order to have the visa put into your passport. In the case of a UK resident, at the moment this means either travelling abroad or engaging the services of an agency to take your passport to the relevant place. Each embassy/consulate seems to have slightly different requirements as to whether or not you must attend in person and/or have fingerprints taken. For Dublin the requirement was to attend in person but no fingerprints were required.

I had made the initial application via the UK tour company in early May against the promise that the group applications would be forwarded to the Iranian agents by 15th May. In fact, the UK tour company did not forward the applications for another two weeks after then. This was because they decided to admit some late applicants to the trip. The authorisation codes were not issued until 6th July – so 6 weeks of anxious wait against the background of the political negotiations on Iran’s nuclear capabilities. The fear was, of course, that if those negotiations failed then obtaining a visa might become more difficult or impossible. Fortunately the negotiations achieved an agreement.

But the late issue of the codes meant that there was just 3 weeks to organise a trip to Dublin amongst work commitments. The Iranian consulate does offer a same day service so I thought I would try to take advantage of that. Originally I had planned to have a more extended stay so that I could explore a few of Ireland’s 3,000ft peaks. That will have to wait.

So as mentioned in a previous blog I booked with Ryanair from Leeds-Bradford Airport a (relatively cheap) return flight on 15th July. My flight out was at 6.30am (so an unpleasantly early start) but it did enable me to reach the consulate before its opening time at 9.30am. I had hired a car for the day to get me between Dublin airport and the consulate. Even at 9.20am when I arrived at the consulate there was quite a queue. I feared a long wait. Fortunately I was seen by 10.10am by the friendly Iranian official and handed in yet another (different) application form, some photos, a wodge of cash and my passport. I was told to come back at noon.

So I went away and found a café in a local mall to kill an hour and a half. I managed to string out a hot chocolate and bun for that period before returning to the consulate. The passport was ready with the substantial visa (shown in my earlier blog) stuck into it.

I then texted Ciaran, whom I had tentatively arranged to meet for lunch, to make arrangements to meet. We settled for a rendezvous at the airport after I had dropped off the car as his office is quite close to the airport. We had a good natter and he was, I think, a little surprised about my reasons for being in Dublin!

After the stress of waiting for the visa authorisation to come through I was able to concentrate on preparing for the trip. Now that the UK and Iran have re-opened their respective embassies, perhaps the visa process will become easier in the near future.

I had got back into my training regime and though I was not as fit as before my South America trip I thought I would be OK for Iran.

So come 31st July the day of departure had arrived.

My trip to South America had required two 110l kitbags stuffed with about 35kg of gear. This trip had one 110l kitbag with just 18kg of gear. This included some stuff that I would probably not require – i.e. ice axe and crampons (which would only be needed if there was significant recent snowfall).

I also stuffed my 38l Osprey rucksack with boots and other essential kit and would use that as hand luggage on the flights.

The flight to Tehran would be with Turkish Airlines via Istanbul from Manchester Airport. The departure was an evening one so I did not need to leave home until late afternoon.

I had been told that another from our group would also be flying from Manchester. But I did not in fact meet him (Neil) until I reached Tehran although he was on both flights that I took! The 3½ hour flight to Istanbul was uneventful but I was to have a five hour stopover there. Other members of the party would be coming in to Istanbul from other airports. Two more we would meet in Tehran. There were seven in the party.

Ataturk airport is huge. And busy. And efficient. We arrived just as the sun was rising. The departure boards showed all sorts of exotic destinations in the Middle East including Baghdad and Basra. I wandered around a bit to look around. But, as I had not had much sleep on the flight and was feeling a bit zombified, I found a couple of seats to settle down on. I must have snoozed for half an hour. But my subconscious would not allow me to drift away into too deep a sleep. I did not want to miss my onward flight.

Eventually a departure gate for the onward flight appeared on the departure boards. Of course, it was at the other end of the airport! So I had a 10 minute hike to it. By then it was packed. As my eyes scanned the waiting passengers, I was spotted by three of my group – Arrvind from London, Phil from Essex and Yde from Utrecht. The walking boots had given me away. That together with my rucksack!

The sun was just rising as we boarded the onward flight. Our route east took us first north to the Black Sea and then we followed the north coast of Turkey. The airline had put our group in different locations on the plane so there was no opportunity to get to know each other. I tried to sleep some more but without success. We swung slightly south and passed to the north of Van and to the south of Mount Ararat (though I did not see this being on the wrong side of the plane) and on over Iran.

The ground beneath was, at first, quite verdant, the otherwise arid land fed by snowmelt and precipitation coming off the mountains to the north, but soon turned into proper desert. Tehran sits right at the foot of the Alborz range of mountains. The city’s elevation rises from around 1,250m above sea level at its south to 1,950m at its northern end. Tehran only became the capital in 1796. Previous capitals of the Persian Empire had been cities in the south of the country. It has a population of around 8.5 million (with a couple of million commuting into the city each day).

The city’s principal airport is now Imam Khomeini International Airport which lies around 30 miles to the south of the city centre. This airport was large and modern, but strangely deserted. A couple of Iran Air planes looked lost on the aprons in front of the huge terminal. It had taken 3 hours to fly there and it was here that the fun started.

It took almost 1½ hours to clear immigration. I had been in one particular queue for 70 minutes when the official at the desk decided to leave, leaving me and five others high and dry. Fortunately the people in the queue to my left took pity on me and allowed me to push into theirs. 10 minutes later I was through. Neil (the one who had been on both of my flights) had managed to get through immigration in about 20 minutes. That is bureaucracy for you. Notwithstanding the hoops one has to go through to obtain the visa, it was not possible to waive people through once the presence of the visa in the passport had been ascertained. No! The passport had to be scanned, a computer screen frowned at, some tapping on the keyboard undertaken and a call or two on the phone taken.

It had taken so long to fight our way through immigration that our transport had gone. So our fixer (Ahmad) who was waiting for us had to organise two more taxis to take our group into Tehran. The city is enormous. What was immediately evident was that, notwithstanding the sanctions to which it has been subject, the country (at least around Tehran) has pretty good infrastructure. The first part of the journey was speedy along a modern 6 lane dual carriageway. At one point we passed a huge mosque complex constructed in memory of Ayatollah Khomeini. It looked largely complete but a couple of cranes stood high indicating that some work was still continuing.

Soon after then, the roads became busier and busier. They were jammed with Toyotas and Peugeots (sanctions?). There were motor bikes and scooters galore, often driving against the flow of the traffic. If there were any rules of the road, I am not sure what they were. Pedestrians put their lives into the hands of others as they dodged between fast moving vehicles as they crossed the roads. Pedestrian crossings were meaningless features.
An hour or so later at about 6pm we arrived at the Ferdowsi International Grand Hotel. It was baking hot – somewhere near 40oC. The reception area certainly lived up to the name of the hotel – grand and elaborate.

The Ferdowsi International Grand Hotel, Tehran, Iran — **The Ferdowsi International Grand Hotel**

Rooms were allocated – I was to share with Yde – and it was agreed that we would meet at 7pm in the lobby for a briefing and further introductions. This gave us just about enough time to sort our gear for the first part of the expedition. We only needed a limited amount for this part. The remainder of the gear could be left in Tehran and be picked up for the second part.

When Yde and I returned to the lobby at 7pm we found a promotional video being shot with actor, cameraman and bright lights. The actor was seemingly demonstrating the virtues of a credit card with multiple takes of the card being swiped through a card reader. The action followed us into the bar area where the others were. Here we caught up with the other two in the party, Stuart and Rob. They had come in on earlier flights.

Although we were now in a bar, there was no question of alcohol being available. So we had soft drinks, tea and cakes. We were introduced to our guides. The principal one, Mehti, would lead on the first mountain and then come with us to Damavand. We were to be ready for 9am the following day. We talked about our respective experience. I suddenly felt relatively inexperienced.

So let me introduce you to the team:

Neil – from Sheffield. Married, aged 63 and runs his own business and has a house in the Alps. Has climbed Kilimanjaro, Mont Blanc and been to Everest base camp.

Arrvind – from London, a psychiatric nurse now divorced. Aged 52 and originally from Mauritius but has spent most of his life in the UK. Has climbed Kilimanjaro, Elbrus and done lots of trekking around the world.

Yde – Dutch, aged 31, single and works in insurance/pensions. Has done Muztag Ata (a 7,400m peak in China), Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Aconcagua, Spantik (another 7,000m peak), Mont Blanc and other mountains in Europe and South America. Planning to do Cho Oyu (one of the world’s 8,000m peaks).

Rob – also aged 31, single and from Essex. In IT. Seems to live for adventure in the mountains, including spending 8 months bumming around Ecuador and Peru climbing or attempting some high Andean peaks. Also done Mont Blanc, Kilimanjaro, Kazbek, stuff in Iceland. Now aiming to do the Volcanic Seven Summits (i.e. the highest volcano on each of the 7 continents).

Phil – also from Essex, early 40’s and single. Again seems to work in order to do mountaineering. Did Aconcagua a few years back and Ojos del Salado about 3 weeks after I did. He has also done Kilimanjaro and peaks in Nepal.

Stu – aged 40, single and an aeronautical engineer. Originally from Wigan but has lived mostly abroad in recent times. Was just coming to the end of a job based in Switzerland. He was by far the most experienced among us having climbed Cho Oyu, Aconcagua, Kilimanjaro, Elbrus, Kazbek, Carstenz Pyramid (highest mountain in Australasia), Vinson (highest mountain in Antarctica), Mont Blanc, Pik Lenin etc etc. This was his 23rd expedition.

It was then time to eat something. Arrvind excused himself but the rest of us resorted to the hotel restaurant. Kebabs of various kinds were ordered. These were OK but a little disappointing. There was a salad bar that we could raid and which we risked (i.e. the risk of dicky tummies, though only Neil suffered later). We were given water and a fizzy drink of our choice.

The bill was amusing in that the cost was over 3.6 million. Fortunately there are 46,000 rials to the pound, so the damage was not as great as it might otherwise sound.

So that was the end of day one and I was glad to be able to get to bed. So my initial impression of Tehran was overwhelmingly dominated by cars, cars and cars. Oh and the smog. We could not see the mountains that rise to around 4,000m that look over Tehran. But I was looking forward to the next stage of the adventure.

Part 2 of this blog can be found here.

Confessions of a peakbagger – yet a further postscript

7th October 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

It’s funny how, having done a blog on peakbagging, a number of related commentaries appear. Now we have this.

I think I need to be shocked and upset at the “accolade”. Does this make me “dull” too?

Myrddyn Phillips takes it all in remarkably good stead. But I think that it is all remarkably unfair on Rob Woodall. The fact that he has visited nearly all 6,100 triangulation pillars in the UK deserves an award other than “dull” – “obsessive” perhaps. It also underplays the fact that Rob Woodall is probably the country’s most renowned hill walker having done all the Munros, Corbetts, Grahams, Donalds, Marilyns etc etc in the UK and many mountains all around the world.