Iran Archives - James Stone (clach liath)

Iran Part 5 – Postscript

11th November 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Part 4 of this blog can be found here.

We are up for an 8am breakfast then it is time to pack those final items. The mules will carry our large bags down to camp 1 so we just have our day sacks. Mehti wants to take a picture of the group in front of the shelter. This is done once our bags are piled up for the muleteers to collect. This they will do after we have left. It is a lovely day – no sign of any bad weather.

Mehti produces a banner advertising Kassa Tours for us to hold in the photos . All fine until we notice that it is the wrong one and is advertising Pik Lenin rather than Damavand. Still he stands so far back from the group to take the photos that I doubt of the wording on the banner will be visible anyway.

We make our way through the camp and on to the dusty trail down. There are lots of people on it, mainly coming up. Given some of the clothing being worn, I hope that many are just going to camp 2 for the day. But Damavand is a popular peak so who knows.

We stop once for drinks before continuing our downward track. At one point we come across a muleteer ascending whose mules decide to scatter across the hillside. This results in much laughter – poor chap. It takes him a while to gather them back together. At another spot, on a rocky knoll, a group is engaged in dancing. We decline their invitation to join in.

Soon we see the golden glistening of the mosque. Looking back up, the conditions at the summit seem to be more ominous.

And we are down. Our transport is not yet there. We will spend the night at the Polour shelter (base camp) as we are a day early coming down. We shelter under a large canvas awning and have tea. It is hot again. We also wait for our bags, but there is no sign of the mules. Eventually it is decided that we will leave anyway. The bags will catch us up. So we pile into the 4WDs that have now arrived.

First we return to the restaurant in Polour that we visited on the way in. The food is as good as before. This time there is barbecued fish in addition to the lamb and chicken. The fish is reared locally. The cooler water from snow melt hereabouts enhances the taste, apparently.

Next we go to the shelter. There is no sign yet of our bags. We are allocated a room with three sets of bunks, and plugs to recharge phones! Despite a promise of some, there is no wi-fi to report success home. We generally laze about. I am feeling good, no sign of tiredness or fatigue. Mehti produces some water melon that I am happy to eat – it all helps with rehydration.

After whiling away a couple of hours it is dinner time. There are snowflakes in the air. Although the summit is not covered, it looks very dismal on Damavand. If you cannot see the steam from the fumaroles up there, you know it is windy. We cannot see steam. It also looks a little whiter up there.

Whatever. We have our summit and it does not really matter what the conditions are like.

Eventually, after dark, the bags arrive.

The next morning our transport to Tehran arrives. It is the same modern people carrier we had to bring us to Polour. We squeeze in after our bags and are off. Majid has his own car there so we say goodbye to him. Mehti stays with us.

The windows are open in the vehicle to keep us cool and curtains are pulled back to enable us to watch the countryside pass by. We stop once for Mehti to buy some soft drinks. A couple of hours later we are back in Tehran at the hotel. Whilst we have been away the road in front of it has been torn up! So we are dropped at the end of the road and lug our heavy bags to the reception.

I share rooms again with Yde. We depart at separate times in the morning. Yde will be disturbed because I (and Neil) will leave at 4.30am. Yde is staying on another day for sightseeing. Arrvind has another week and is going south to Esfahan and Shiraz. Stu, Rob and Phil have flights later in the day.

En route to the hotel we discuss what to do with the remainder of the day and agree to hire a vehicle and guide to do some quick sightseeing of our own. We leave the hotel again at 2pm. First Rob and I insist on visiting a sportswear shop so we can buy authentic Iranian national football kits (don’t ask). Once that is done we visit two sites.

The first is the Azadi Tower located at the old western entrance to the city.

It is surrounded by some nice greenery and by a busy road that we risk our lives crossing.

And a hazy view towards Mount Tochal

There is a museum under it but it is closed this day.

Then we go on to the Milad Tower, distant pictures of which are in my first Iran blog. This is the 6th highest tower in the world and sits atop a ubiquitous shopping centre and a convention centre. In fact we arrive just before a group of visiting Korean dignitaries sweep in with their black limos and motorcycle outriders.

A trip up to the viewing floor is a must. So we part with some rials and take the lift up. Smog can spoil the views. Today it is not too bad and we have views all round.

And there is one to the north that shows Mount Tochal.

In the evening we have a celebratory meal. Unfortunately Neil is still under the weather. The food is indifferent, but OK. The water is good though!

We are joined not only by Mehti but also by Ahmad, one of the owners of Kassa Tours (the in-country agents who have done very well for us). Ahmad dishes out certificates.

My thoughts on Iran? It was an interesting place to visit. The people we met were invariably friendly and, often, curious. The educated classes tend to speak English, though it seemed to be the case that other nationalities were looking to exploit the easing of tensions more so than the British. The food is interesting. The traffic is manic. The place is a lot better served infrastructure-wise than I had expected. Tehran is only worth a short visit. Arrvind had the right idea, I think, to spend more time exploring the cultural aspects of the country. That is what I would do if, as I hope may be the case, I visit the country again.

It is also a bureaucratic place, exemplified by the fact that Neil and I had to queue for an hour at the airport to show our passports just to get out of the country. Perhaps with the signing of the nuclear deal things will improve for those with British (and American, Canadian and Australian) passports. But the political situation moves fast. What with Syria/Iraq and the potential face-off between the Saudis and Iran once sanctions are relieved, perhaps things will become trickier.

So now may be the time to visit. I hope you have enjoyed reading these blogs.

Iran Part 4 – Damavand

4th November 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Part 3 of this blog can be found here.

On Wednesday, 5^th August 2015 I wake up on a concrete floor in converted stables. Sleep has been OK, if broken. My ageing body is not used to sleeping on a thin blow up mattress. It was warm enough to sleep just in a sleeping bag liner, though someone has opened a window during the night.

I celebrate by changing my underpants for the first time since going to Tochal! As I stir I feel a lump in the softshell top I had been using as my pillow. A familiar pattern shows itself creeping out of one of the sleeves. Although I am more awake than asleep, it takes a moment or two to register and for my brain to compute. Joy! It’s my buff. My curiosity as to how it got there is overtaken by the relief of having found it. It’s surprising how small things can change the mood for the day, though I do not disclose to my team mates my discovery. I wonder if they detect any change in me?!

Breakfast is served. As this is largely fried eggs, I make do with cake and a couple of bananas. Today we will ascend around 1,200m (4,000ft) to camp 2, known as Bargah Sevom. Unfortunately Neil decides he will not be coming with us. He has been suffering from intestinal and fitness issues. So a taxi back to Tehran is organised for him. He will wait for us back at the Ferdowsi International Grand Hotel.

It is, as forecast, a beautiful day as the bags and food are loaded on to the mules. We will just carry day sacks.

One advantage of the Ferdowsi was the availability of the internet. Many sites, such as BBC News, Facebook and other social media channels, are blocked in Iran. However, our trusty mountainforecast.com was not. This was a service we had used in South America last year and their forecasting did not seem to be too bad. So before leaving the hotel I had obtained the most up to date information. Unfortunately the forecast for our summit day attempt in two days was not promising; the day before was not forecast to be much better. Today would have been a good day!

We leave the camp before the mules but they pass us after 40 minutes. We will next see our bags dumped up at camp 2. The dusty path zig zags up easily. There are lots of people around. Thursdays and Fridays are the weekend in Iran, so we guess that some were taking a long weekend.

Here is a very foreshortened view up towards the summit on our way up to camp 2.

And here is a shot looking down to camp 1 (on the extreme left of the picture).

We have a couple of stops on the way and after around 4 hours we arrive at Bargah Sevom. This was the first permanent camp to be built on Damavand. The original shelter is still there, but a new larger shelter was constructed in the early 1990s above the original one. Terraces have also been created on the hillside to pitch tents. We will be staying in the newer shelter. Here it is.

Shortly after taking this picture my camera packs in. In the shelter, even after fiddling around with it for a while I cannot get it to work. The automatic focus has gone and I drain the battery with the attempts to revive the camera. Thank goodness for mobile phones and their cameras. I am not happy, but there you go.

Here is the view from the entrance to the shelter.

And some more gear being deposited by mules.

Then I get in the way of the view.

We are shown to our room by the entrance to the building, a dormitory with three sets of double bunks. Being located there it is a bit noisy. And nosey people keep opening the door to see what/who is there! The first task is to have some tea, cake and digestives in the communal dining area. A large group of Poles come in, loud but good natured. We have a brief chat with them. They intend to make a summit attempt on Saturday as they have not been anywhere else to acclimatise. Whilst we are having our tea it starts to snow. It does not last long, but the temperature here is noticeably colder than anywhere else we have been.

We then fester until 7pm when our dinner will be ready. A conversation then begins about the possibility of making the summit attempt the following day. None of us seem to be suffering any ill effects from the altitude. But we leave things as they are.

The shelter is getting busier so we decide to bag places in the communal dining area at 6.30pm. It is as well that we do because it is packed. People who are camping come in to warm themselves up. Some who have not pre-booked accommodation in the shelter and do not have tents would sleep on the floor here. There is also a small shop where provisions can be purchased.

The meal is lamb and rice with a date sauce – there are the stones in it to prove it! It is pretty tasty. As we are eating a man with a pipe starts up. This leads to some dancing and general merriment. Here is a video to show it.

A bit of a cultural hit! This lasts 20 minutes or so and the place clears out soon after it finishes. We dwell over orange tea and the remnants of more non-alcoholic beer that we have had with the meal, if only because it is warmer in the communal area. The sun sets and it becomes dark at around 8pm. At about 7.15pm a generator is switched on and provides power for lights and power sockets. Occasionally it cuts out and the place is plunged into darkness so head torches are switched on. But it does mean that I can re-charge my phone when we get back to our room.

So that night I go to bed anticipating a 9.30am start for our acclimatisation walk the next day.

I sleep solidly for 5 hours until 3am. I am then disturbed by people who are moving around in the building preparing for their summit attempts. So I lie there slightly frustrated that I cannot get back to sleep listening to conversations I cannot understand occurring outside the window.

At some point I drift off into a disturbed slumber. Stu is up before 8am and returns to the room to report that the guides are suggesting going for the summit now. The forecast for the next day is now worse. Indeed a big fall of snow with strong winds is likely.

I don’t feel best prepared – I should have got up and left at 3am! Indeed the normal departure time is between 5am and 6am. We are told to aim to leave just after 9am. With just fried eggs for breakfast I am stuck with cake and tea.

The clients are ready for 9am but the guides are not. It is still chilly at this hour. It is also a beautiful day. In this photo the “cloud” in the centre is in fact steam from fumaroles high up on the mountain.

Eventually we get going at 9.30am – very late. Most commentaries tell you that it takes between 5 and 7 hours to climb from the shelter to the summit. And then a further 3 to 4 hours to descend. We set off at a steady pace. Arrvind says he will plod along at the back and will do his best. After an hour or so we have our first proper stop. By now Arrvind is 5 to 10 minutes behind. Majid announces he will stay with Arrvind and Mehti will look after the rest of us. He also says that at 5,000m Mehti will see how things are going and decide whether or not we will continue. Also, there will be no second chance tomorrow if we go above 5,000m but fail to summit. So the pressure is on!

As I fiddle around, head down, with my rucksack Mehti and the other four set off. By the time I realise what is happening and have finally sorted myself out they are already 200m ahead of me. I start off again trying both to catch them up but also not to over exert myself. Over exertion can bring on altitude related problems. I never catch them.

The terrain under foot is typical of volcanoes. Loose scree is interspersed with ribs of rock on a fairly steep consistent gradient. The scree is not as bad as we had found in South America so it is not always a two steps up, one step down experience. But you do have to be alive to your foot placement. I grit my teeth and for an hour or so I have them in my sights but then they disappear. I do drop Arrvind and Majid after about 20 minutes.

I am not alone on the mountain though. I start to overtake a few who are on their way up and then, eventually in greater numbers, pass others on their way down. The broad slopes have a myriad of trails weaving around and over the rocky ribs. I do wonder, if a decision were made to turn around, how on earth this would be communicated to me. I grow a little frustrated and annoyed that they do not wait for me. But on the other hand I meet some people who I might not otherwise have done. Basically I am climbing the mountain by myself.

There are few obvious features on this ascent. However, one is a 12m high frozen waterfall at 5,100m. This is fed by a small glacier above, snow and moisture from clouds which freezes on contact. It never flows.

As I pass groups I give a hearty “salaam”. My accent is an obvious give away and normally I receive an enquiry as to where I am from. When I provide my reply I am met with a mix of friendliness and slight bewilderment as to why an Englishman is climbing Mount Damavand by himself.

As I scramble up one particular rocky rib I pause to regain my breath. Here a German passes me on his way down. His English is poorer than my German but we converse in a fitful manner. He has made it to the top but is tired. His colleagues are ahead of him – I know the feeling!

Shortly after then I meet an Iranian guiding a party of eight. He is most concerned about my welfare and wants to know how I am. He asks where my guides are and warns me of the poor weather that is forecast. I assure him I am alright and I know about the forecast. I am tracking my progress on my GPS so if the conditions worsen I can make my way back to the shelter by following the route shown on the GPS. He seems satisfied but I gain the impression he might have tried to persuade me to turn around if my answers had not been satisfactory.

Around 5,200m, still 400m below the summit, I start flaking, not because I am tired but because I am losing energy. Although I eat and drink my stops for breathers become more frequent. I am able to measure my progress altitude-wise on my GPS. Progress seems painfully slow. All the traffic now seems to be making its way downhill. Vague sulphurous smells waft in the stiff breeze. On and on I go. It becomes as much a matter of willpower. The sky starts getting cloudier and what I assume to be the summit is covered. But there is still mainly blue sky.

I pass a few more people. No-one overtakes me. A few groups are sitting, some people are lying down (possibly asleep). It is impossible to tell whether they are on their way up or down. Ahead I see a young chap. He is moving slowly. Eventually I catch him up. He is Iranian without any English. He offers me some water which I accept because it saves me having to take off my rucksack to get mine. He is trying to tell me something. I work out that he has a headache and that he wants to know if I can help him. As I am carrying Ibroprufen, I can. I give him a tablet plus some nuts. I have a tablet too as a prophylactic and gobble some nuts.

At this point we are about 150m below the summit – perhaps up to an hour away. Here is the view up.

I leave my new friend behind and start up once more. Within a few minutes I can see Mehti coming down and then the others following on behind. Mehti only recognises me 20 metres away and stops to ask me if I am OK. The others quickly arrive. I have the feeling that they are a little surprised to see me still grinding my way upwards. Mehti offers to accompany me to the summit. The others ask if I want to leave my rucksack with them. I look up at the summit and reckon it will be another 40 minutes. I accept both offers.

My young friend comes by and says something to Mehti. Mehti tells me that he has asked to pass on his thanks for providing the Ibruprofen and he is feeling better.

Off we go. The nuts that I have scoffed give me a bit of energy. Mehti is a strong climber and keeps stopping to wait for me. We trend leftwards up the open slope. The only feature above now are the rocks on the crater rim. We cross a large patch of snow that is slushy in the afternoon “warmth”. The sulphur smell becomes more persistent but never gagging. Most rocks are stained yellow. Occasionally streams of steam cross our route at ankle height. The rocks steadily come closer.

Mehti then turns right and disappears between some rocks. I later find out why.

There I am at the summit. I reach it a few minutes before 3pm. Although I have been slower, much slower as it turns out, than the rest of the team I have made the top in 5½ hours which is well within the range of times I have been told to expect. In retrospect I was quite pleased with my performance, especially as I had spent at least 15 minutes with the Iranian lad and perhaps another 10 minutes chatting to the German and the Iranian guide.

Mehti is keen for me to start down. But I have not come all this way to be nagged. We take the obligatory photos.

An Iranian couple speak to me and give me a biscuit. Perhaps I am looking in need! They then insist on me having a photo taken with them.

Some plaques are stuck on the rocks as is, bizarrely, a desiccated sheep which you can see to the right of me on the photo before last. There is also an Iranian flag that I am tempted to wave!

Next I insist on climbing the highest of the summit rocks which I do. Unfortunately the cloud is down so I have no views, not even into the crater. Through the cloud I can just make out the snow in the shallow crater but not the other side which is only 400m away. I also miss out on seeing the large fumarole which spews out most of the gases just below the summit.

Looking later at my GPS track I saw that I spent all of seven or eight minutes in total on the summit. What a long way to go for such a short period and no view! Had we started off at the normal time at sunrise I would have had longer there and a view. Never mind. I later find out that the others have taken just 3¾ hours to reach the summit – I marvelled at their strength. Here are a couple of pictures of them at the summit.

In 10 minutes we are back with the others. They have descended a further 100m or so to obtain some shelter from the breeze and the sulphur. They are keen to move off as they have waited about an hour for me and are becoming cold. Here we go.

To start with the descent is quick as we slither down earth and loose scree. We take a slightly different way down to take advantage of this. But soon we are back to rock and firmer scree with occasional short scrambly down climbs. I am feeling quite emotional at the achievement. Perhaps it was as well that I was again bringing up the rear. Getting to 5,600m after only 5 days was quite aggressive in terms of acclimatisation. The normal recommendation is to get to 3,500m and then gain 300m a day with a rest day after each 1,000m of gain.

I realise that I have not drunk anything for a couple of hours and am becoming quite dehydrated. So I suggest to the others that they carry on whilst I tuck into a Pepsi and look at the views down into the valley. Off to the west is a large lake/reservoir. Ahead of me and to the left is the range of mountains that we could see from the two shelters. I am still higher than them.

Mehti waits for me for a while but once I am past the rocky terrain he sets off. I feel as though I have climbed this mountain largely by myself. I also make quite good progress overtaking quite a few people. From a distance the noise of thunder rumbles and threatening clouds appear to the west though I see no lightning. I am keen to get back to the shelter before any storm hits. I am back by 5.30pm – 2 hours 20 minutes down including the Pepsi stop. The others get there 15 minutes before me. Arrvind is also there. He had reached about 5,200m before turning around because Majid said there would not be enough time to summit and return before dark. That is a shame because with a start at sunrise, he may well have made it. He is remarkably stoical about it all.

As it happens the storm never comes and the snow is limited to a few flakes around dinner time. Our evening meal consists of pasta, salad and vegetables. As is common in such circumstances, I and a couple of the others do not have much of an appetite despite having expended far more calories during the day than consumed. Indeed, Rob eats barely anything. I concentrate on re-hydrating and only manage half a plateful of food.

After dinner I have a long chat with Rob about future objectives. He is off to Mexico in November and hopes to go on to Ojos del Salado after then at the turn of the year. Eventually we are driven indoors due to the cold. We retire to our room where the others are and reflect on the day’s achievements before bed. Tomorrow we descend the rest of the mountain and return to Tehran.

In my next blog (here) I will conclude the story of my trip to Iran.

Iran Part 3 – To Damavand

31st October 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Part 2 of this blog can be found here.

I awoke 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. Their giggling could even be heard drifting 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 vehicle was stopped at the side of the busy road and he 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. A veritable feast was presented to us with 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 be taken up 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.

Indeed you can barely even see the mountain from there.

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. 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 witih Phil and the guides!

Having lost our two young guides we were joined here by Majid, an Iraqi Kurd who had moved to Iran at the time of the Iran-Iraq war and who 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.

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.

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 it was nowhere to be found.

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 (which can be found here) I will tell the story of my time on the upper reaches of Mount Damavand.

Iran Part 2 – Mount Tochal

28th October 2015 by James Stone Leave a Comment

Part 1 of this blog can be found here.

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. The way is lined with restaurants and kiosks selling drinks and the usual tourist stuff. 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.

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 dormitories had not been opened up. So we spent some time on a nice open area looking back the way we had come.

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

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 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. It was constructed by the family of a young climber who had died of exposure near this point.

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 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.

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. The mountain 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 only a few of the peaks had much snow on them.

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.

Part 3 of this blog can be found here.