Yazd, Iran. 6th January 2025.

The good thing about heading south to the coast was that it was going to be much warmer. I found myself stripping off as I went. Not literally though. That would be dangerous.
At the end of the first day, in Shirjan, I was able to pack away my thermals and fleecy top. What a pleasant change that made.
Soon after leaving Yazd I stopped to look at the Towers of Silence, which is a Zoroastrian cemetery. A very interesting place, with good quality info boards.

It’s a very large area, with lots of buildings around, and two towers on the top of small hills. They’re about 25 metres high and at least 50 metres wide, mostly brick built.
Families bring their relatives bodies which are laid out on the top of the towers. They’re left to be picked apart by vultures. (Excarnation.) This process allowed the body to be returned to nature without compromising the purity of the natural elements. The bones were then broken up and placed in the centre of the tower. Carrion birds would usually take them too.

Each of the villages that came there built a house in the grounds for the residents to use when they came there. When they were unoccupied, they got used by the public.
I didn’t bother going up to the towers. Too many steps and too much riding gear on a warming day.

I was aiming for Shirjan for my overnight stop. About 30 kms outside of the town I got stopped by the police. Friendly greetings and a passport check, then on my way again. I’m convinced that when I get stopped it’s more from bored curiosity that anything else.
To my surprise the tourist hotel in the town was full, so I was sent to a rather swank looking place nearby. Expensive for Iran, at a whole £23! My evening meal was good and so was breakfast, which I felt I was entitled to expect.
Before leaving town I needed to get some data. I went to a mobile phone shop but they said I had to go to an Irancell shop. They couldn’t supply it. There was one nearby and one of the guys took me over there. Then he pushed to the front of the queue and got me 10GB. Nobody seemed to be all that bothered by this. I felt a bit guilty but it soon wore off.
I set off and got on with the ride. It was never cold, even when the road went up to 1900 metres. The further south I went the warmer it got.
The trucks were causing a real holdup on the steep hill over the pass. They caused an even bigger jam coming down. Sharp bends and a very steep hill meant they had to go really slowly. Mostly I was able to get past them so didn’t suffer too much.
Although I was heading for Bandar Abbas, a big port city on the coast, my ultimate destination was Qeshm Island, out in the bay. I was debating whether to go straight over there but it would have been sunset by the time I got to the ferry port. So eventually I chose a hotel off Google maps to head to in the city. When I got there I found it was a big swank place, wanting £60 for a room with a sea view. No thank you, was my response.
So began a magical mystery tour of the hotels of Bandar Abbas, all of which were full. Also a tour of hostels which didn’t actually exist. I ended up at another swank hotel at a cost of £58! The desk jockey explained that its company conference season so the town is mega busy. It was 7pm before I was settled.
The desk jockey recommended me a restaurant across the street, having confirmed my suspicions that the hotel would be very dear. I went over there and had a very nice meal for £4. Job done.
After a very nice breakfast I refueled and headed down to the ferry port. But when I got there the fun started. A helpful official took me into the customs office, then round to the photocopy office.
He took 3 copies of my passport, visas and Carnet. Then I went back to the customs office and sat around for half an hour while they checked everything about 10 times. Got on the phone to somebody twice, about my passport/visa, as far as I could tell. Finally they gave me a form with my, and the bike’s, info on it.
All I needed now was a ticket. But a helpful guy told me not to worry about a ticket and head down to the ferry? “Really?”, I thought? But he was right. I just rode straight on and tucked the bike into a corner.
20 minutes later the ferry arrived. Vehicles had to reverse off but I turned the bike around and rode off up to a little cabin. I could see that he wanted the form from customs. He stamped it, gave it back to me and off I went.

But not very far as I needed to decide where to stay. I chose a hotel and headed towards it then changed my mind as I reached the place. I decided I wanted to be near a beach.
I found a place on Google and went there. But guess what? Yep, it didn’t seem to exist. I bumped into a couple in a car and the very helpful English speaking woman rang it up for me. No reply. They said they new of another place and we went there. I was very grateful for their help.
She was telling me about three guys on Honda CRFs that had stayed here and then gone to Hormuz Island. Normally no vehicles are allowed on there, as far as I knew. But one of them is Iranian and is a boat captain. So he was able to pull some strings.
Amir, the host, had just finished developing this homestay. It is still his house but he had added extra buildings, showers etc. He had two rooms, ensuite, but both were occupied when I arrived. I was in a sleep-on-the-floor dorm, with a toilet/shower half a dozen metres away in the yard. A room would be free next day.
He made me some tea and ordered me some chicken and rice, to be delivered. It arrived at about 4pm so was good enough as an evening meal. I had a shower in the tiny, tiny bathroom. Just about OK.
He showed me some places to visit on the island so I planned to go exploring next day. It would involve some dirt track, which I expected to be great fun. Maybe. He rang some hotels in Qeshm City and they’re £30 or more. But I needed one because I wanted to get the ferry to Hormuz and needed to leave my bike somewhere.

So far I’ve mentioned two islands and told you nothing about them. Both of them sit close the the mainland near to Bandar Abbas, which is Iran’s main shipping port, in the Strait of Hormuz.
Qeshm is accessible via a short ferry ride from the mainland and is very much aimed at tourists. It has an infrastructure designed to cope with visitors and has plenty of nice places to visit. The roads are good and there’s many places to stay, explore and eat. The western end of the island, where I was, is wilder than the rest, and most of the roads are dirt.
Hormuz Island is accessible by ferry both from the mainland and from Qeshm Island, but no visitors’ vehicles are allowed onto it. Its main attraction is the natural beauty found at various locations around the island. Irish Michael had told me the best way to see it was to hire a Tuk Tuk and driver. It would take about four hours to see all the places. So that was the plan
Meanwhile I had some exploring to do. But there was no need to rush. I moved into one of the en-suite rooms and spent the morning chatting to Amir about his house and the island. He had shown me where there was an ATM in the village although he reckoned it didn’t give cash. I decided to walk down there but spotted a café by the beach. Coffee and cake beckoned. A chilled out garden area was a pleasant place to sit for a while.
It was a nice walk. After a while I came to a promenade with statues on it. I remembered coming past it on the way there. I turned up into the village and saw a machine on the corner of a shop. I didn’t know what it was but it wasn’t an ATM. But there was one across the road.
I tried it but there was no option for English. I hung about hoping for someone to come who might be able to help me but no luck. Amir had reckoned it didn’t give out cash but it did seem to have a dispenser slot.
When I got back to the promenade I bought an ice lolly and sat in a seat looking out to sea. Another ordered in meal, of fish and chips, finished off a relaxing day. Such is the life of a travelling man.
After Arif’s very nice breakfast I got sorted and set off for some salt caves, further along the island. The asphalt disappeared after a few kms, then it was a hard packed dirt track. I practiced standing up on the bike and felt it to be not too bad. But I’d still like lower footrests. Some of the track was a bit rough but we handled it OK.

At the caves they gave me a head torch at the entrance. I slung it over the GPS bracket but as I rode up the track it worked loose. I tried to go round a RH bend but the bike wouldn’t turn. The torch had dropped down between the forks, stopping them from turning. Of course I fell off, giving my head a very sharp crack on the ground. I had to wait for someone to come along to help me pick it up.
The caves were really nice. Not a former salt mine, as others have been, just natural caves, with tunnels of around 6,500 metres in length. We were only allowed in about 50 metres from the spacious entrance though. The rock layers were beautiful. Different colours all compressed together. Earth movement had tilted them from horizontal to almost vertical. Everything was encrusted in salt and salt gravel covered the ground. A really good place.

As I was coming out some women stated talking to me. Wanting to know where I was from and all about the bike. One spoke quite good English. They took lots of photos. There was an old lady with them who was very happy when she learned my age as hers is the same. She seemed much older in looks but her skin was still very smooth. A very nice interlude.

When I got back to the bike I had a big shock. The fuel bottle for my camping stove was missing from its pocket on the pannier. I checked where the bike had fallen over but it wasn’t there. I had been planning to carry on further along the road, to the Snake Wall, but now I had to ride back, hoping to see it. But no luck. They are supplied by the makers of the MSR stove so I wasn’t sure if there’d be a generic version. There was a camping shop on the island so I hoped I’d be lucky there.
To make me feel better I went for cake and coffee, at the beach café.

Lena and Ali, the Russian/Iranian couple I’d met in Esfahan had arrived. How random of them to come to this small, out of the way place.
He earns money from growing mushrooms. Some normal and some magic. We had a little chat about drugs we have tried. He’s a very friendly and interesting guy. Completely non religious, like most young Iranians I’ve met.
It had been a nice day apart from losing the fuel bottle. I planned to ride back along there in the morning then continue round the island. It’s bright red so ought to be visible if it’s there. Fingers crossed!
A lazy morning chatting, before leaving at around midday. I took a very slow ride along to the salt cave. No Luck. I took a walk up the track from the entrance and no luck again. So that’s definitely gone. I don’t know where I’ll get another one of those. I assumed I’d lost it but it could just as easily have been liberated while the bike was parked outside the homestay.
The Snake Wall was very good. It’s obviously been caused by water. It looks the same as a muddy track that’s been wet but has cracked in the hot sun.

I was impressed by the rock formations on the landscape, some of them looking like fortresses. Many of them had an overhang and a pattern on the sides clearly worn by water. My thought was that the sea used to wash against them. Later on somebody confirmed that for me. The highest overhangs were at least thirty metres higher than the level ground, and it seems to have happened in stages.

When I came to the asphalt road that Arif had told me to take I didn’t turn inland but carried on further, looking for the Palm Tree Oasis. I didn’t find it but had fun coming back along some rougher tracks that served as a shortcut. Good fun.
I was heading for Bab Café and stopped to refuel. Just as I was leaving the nearside spotlight fell off. They’re mounted on brackets clamped to the forks and one of the clamp screws had gone. I stopped to see if I could fix it and was approached by a German man and his Iranian wife, who offered to help.

I had a look through my spare screws but didn’t have one long enough. They told me about a workshop in the next village which they thought would have one so I followed them there.
And they did. In fact they had an exact match. So I bought two off the guy and fitted one on.
I carried on to the Bab Café for coffee and cake. The guy knew Erfan and was very pleased he’d recommended it to me. I took a photo and sent it to Erfan and also onto the WhatsApp group. The café had a very nice garden, with lovely plants. There were also lots of paintings hanging on the walls and in a little gallery.

Then I went to the camping shop and didn’t get the bottle I needed. They sent me to another shop which also didn’t have one. I wasn’t surprised. They tended to focus on supplies for small gas cookers. In actual fact it wasn’t urgent. I had no plans to camp any time soon.
I came into the city but couldn’t find the hostel I was aiming for. So I booked into the hotel at the same location. Which suggests the hostel was actually the hotel anyway. £20 per night, which wan’t too bad.
By the time I came downstairs an English speaking woman was on the desk and she showed me where the ferry port was. I walked down there to make sure I knew where to go.
As far as I was aware the only ferry was at 7am but when I went to the ticket office the woman there said there’s one at 10am as well. I’m torn between the two because I think that coming back there’s a 2pm and a 7pm. That one would get me back here at 8pm. What to do?
I woke up early and decided to go for the 7am ferry. I walked down there, bought my ticket and got some coffee. The ferry was busy and the journey wasn’t too long.
On the other side I did what Michael had suggested and hired a Tuk Tuk. The driver, Ahmad, wanted $40. I laughed and talked him down to 20 million rial – £20.

We set off and the first visit was to Silence Valley. This place had rocks with interesting formations. A lot of salt involved. I was intrigued to see so many trinket sellers out that early.

Then it was the salt cave, which was pretty tame compared to the one on Qeshm. Not really much to see.
Rainbow Valley was next. This had rocks containing all sorts of minerals. Copper; sulphur; ochre; salt, of course; algae coloured limestone. All jumbled together. I wondered how so many different minerals came to be in the same place.

Next was the Valley of the Statues. Home to camels, cows and dragons. I wandered down the paths and was fascinated to see that the sculpted rocks really did have an animal air to them. All the result of erosion. This place was super busy and I had to wait my turn to get back up the path. Iranians were doing their usual thing, trying to push through. But this time they had no choice other than to wait.

Then it was red beach. Ironstone is the key factor here. But what’s amazing is the huge amount of glittering silicate mixed in with the red sand. It looked like ground up glass.
Final stop was the mangrove swamp. I walked across to see it close up. I’d seen mangroves before, in Bangladesh, and had found them a bit weird but also fascinating.

Then we went back to the town. We called at his house for his card terminal so I could pay him. Then we went to a restaurant for lunch. Chicken and rice, and Achmed had the same. My treat, of course. He’d already said I could walk back to the boat easily from there. As soon as he’d finished he rushed off. I had a coffee.

I decided to walk up to the Portuguese Fort, on the seafront. No entry fee. Fairly dilapidated but still worth seeing. The exterior walls were still standing, as was some of the inside. Built in 1507, when Portugal was busy colonising this area. The mainland would have been in Ottoman hands at that time so I don’t suppose they went there.
Then I walked back to the terminal and got straight on a boat, which left 5 minutes later. It had been a good experience but I had the feeling that Ahmed sold me a bit short with regard to his time. Never mind. The island was very much worth visiting and I saw everything..
Next morning I took the panniers off the bike and got it washed. Then I headed to the ferry. It’s quite a long way away, half way back along the island. On the other side it’s even further back to Bandar Abbas, over 100kms.

Irish Michael had put me in touch with a woman he’d met when he was there, named Raaz. I messaged her while I was on the ferry, asking if she could suggest a hotel. She came back to me later on, telling me she’d found a place for me, had booked me in and had paid for the room. Amazing.
I found the hotel with no problem and she came to see me that evening. She came to the lobby at about 6.30 and ordered tea. She’s a very nice young woman and is a radiologist. She said she used to have a business with another woman but she ran off with $20,000 from the business, so Raaz lost her house, car etc.
She loves my British accent and thinks I’m sweet! We were discussing places to visit. I said I’d stay another night so we could spend time together looking around the town. Then she offered to let me stay at her house the next night. Stunned!! A single woman in Iran having a man to stay?? But of course, I accepted. I owed her $20 for the room, although she tried to refuse it. I told her not to be ridiculous and made sure she took it.
She went off to work and I went out to eat.

Breakfast was disappointing. An even bigger disappointment was the message I got from Raaz saying she had to go out of town urgently. No clue as to when or whether she might be back. I finally went out at 1pm on the bike
First stop was the 19th century Hindu temple. It was very small and also closed. No decoration on the outside. Not worth the bother.
I took a ride out to the bird park, a little way out of the city. There wasn’t much to see there but I wandered around a bit, eventually realising that there was a pay-to-enter enclosure. I wasn’t that bothered and just sat on a tree stump and ate my lunch A dull day so far..
As I was heading back to the bike three women sitting on a nearby seat caught my eye and smiled at me. I smiled back, of course. Then one of them came over and invited me to come and drink tea. I gladly accepted.

They were part of a large family group of  mother/father and their four kids, two young and two of them adults, and a son in law. The adult daughters were midwives and both married. One had two young boys. There was a large age gap between the two older and two younger daughters.
They gave me tea and dates and we chatted as best we could. Father is an engineer at an aluminium works. The family is from Tehran but came here for work. One of the little girls was giving me quite intense looks and it seemed that she was trying to work me out rather than take me at face value as an object of curiosity. I was thinking that she’ll be quite a strong character when she grows up.
They took photos and it was only when I got back to the bike I realised I hadn’t taken one of them. So I went back to do so. Then, while I was getting on the bike a teenage girl came up and chatted to me. These meetings with people are great. I’d been feeling a bit down and lethargic after the message from Raaz but by the end of that I was feeling much more chipper.

I headed back and passed by a large crowd of parked cars outside a cemetery. Loads of people were there, walking among the graves. I wondered if it was anything to do with it being the birthday of Imam Ali, Mohammad’s brother in law, and considered to be the first Shi’ite Imam. It may have been because it was Fathers’ Day. That was much more likely, in fact.
When I got back I had a message from Raaz, sent at 16.26, saying she was back in town and wanted to meet. I told her I needed half an hour for a shower but could meet any time after that. By the time I went to bed that evening I hadn’t had any reply. So that was that! I never heard from her again.
Next morning I left Bandar Abbas behind and moved further along the coast.