Category: Janapar

Leaving Hadishahr with our hosts’ well-wishes ringing in our ears, Tenny and I trundled back towards the main road for Tabriz, where we found several lanes of traffic encased by metal barriers. Mountains rose again in our path, solemn and unflinching. Three or four days of this was hardly a pleasant prospect, and the climbs would be long and monotonous. But there was little for it but to begin. We set off up the hard shoulder in a low gear. It was wide enough to ride double file, so we did, chatting about this and that while the landscapes drifted past;… Continue reading →

Lake Sevan vanished behind us as we began to climb up into hilly land, the valley sides green but bare, carved with patterns like tree roots where rivulets of water had for centuries delved. The air grew dry, the sun ever more fierce as we gained altitude. We were far from any major route through the country, and people and settlements were few. This road would weave through the highlands, summit a final high pass and then descend into the far valley where we would join the through-route to the Iranian border, two hundred miles distant. We met a shepherd… Continue reading →

Tenny had to dig deep in order to continue that day. But continue she did. ‘It was the hardest day of my life,’ she told me later. ‘I was so angry at myself for wanting to quit on the first day of cycling. And at the same time, I was so angry at you! You kept telling me that it was just a little further. It wouldn’t continue like this. And of course you were trying to help, but I only wanted shout and cry and argue, because it meant that I should still continue up that hill, which was the… Continue reading →

I opened my eyes. The pale orange of a streetlamp filtered through the thin curtains of the flat, but the sky was still dark. Then I remembered what I had to do, and the worry flooded in, drowning any hope that I would be able to go back to sleep. I lay nervously on my side, reluctant to stir. This was it. This was the day that I had been awaiting for what seemed like forever. I didn’t want to disturb Tenny – she needed the rest far more than I did – so I padded into the kitchen in… Continue reading →

I see more teams of road-builders; Ethiopians laying foundations, Chinese engineers watching through the windows of Land Cruisers and earthmovers. China is paving not just Ethiopia but whole swathes of Africa. By keeping its own currency undervalued, China can offer expertise and infrastructure at the lowest cost on the planet, and assemble a raft of political allies at the same time. One evening I fail to find my usual refuge of a dollar ‘hotel’. Wild camping is now a long-distant memory, Amhara’s people being dispersed so thoroughly. A young man tells me that there is a Chinese road-building camp up ahead.… Continue reading →

I roll to a halt in an explosion of dust as a convoy of vehicles barges past at breakneck speed. I make out the dim initials of the United Nations, angular navy-blue lettering stencilled across the brilliant white paintwork, tinted windows and sunglasses streaking past at sixty miles an hour. This has become a familiar sight in Africa. The clouds of dust kicked up in the village of Gob Gob by the aid workers and diplomats will not settle for another half hour. I pull my headband down to cover my mouth and squint in search of the little blue… Continue reading →

Andy had already built and tested it by the time I arrived at his little apartment in Tbilisi with its high ceilings and vine-strangled veranda and grand wooden doors so typical of the city’s vintage townhouses. With a blue and white paint job, the sturdy little machine sitting in the basement looked absolutely perfect for what was likely to be a very long and challenging task. I was also due to renew my four-month visa, which simply involved crossing the border into Georgia and returning the following day. So the fourteen-hour overnight train trip served three purposes: to appease the… Continue reading →

Mount Ararat’s outline floated in the west, lopsided crater atop its shallow-sided volcanic body, motionless and bold against an orange late-afternoon sun, the smaller twin cone of Little Ararat to its side like a child clutching the hand of a parent. I lapped up the descent, cackling and singing at the absurd distance I’d climbed – in order to relive it in reverse. Rock and scrub blasted past on either side, interspersed with grey patches of slush, the occasional sliver of white snow still hiding in crevices and in the shadows of boulders. As cars crept past, their drivers peering… Continue reading →

I look around at the unfolding landscape; low undulations divided carefully into a patchwork of fields; deep blue overhead with a few wisps of white, the air pleasantly warm against my skin; well-kept tarmac beneath my wheels. Trees sprout between fields, and small streams make their way amongst the lulls and rises of the earth. It’s so quiet, but for the birdsong. And it’s obvious why I feel so bizarrely at home here. I could almost be riding in the back-roads of Derbyshire on an unseasonably warm Sunday in March. But the low undulations are part of a plateau nearly a… Continue reading →

I stood by the road. It was cold. Old, crunchy snow lingered here, at the crux of the pass that went down into one of the series of yawning valleys along the mountain road that led to Iran. I leaned my bike against the concrete barrier at the edge of the mountain-top lay-by. Beyond the barrier, a sheer wall of ice-clad rock dropped off into an invisible gorge, hundreds of metres below. I fished my feather jacket from the enormous dry-bag that was strapped to the back of my bike, containing everything I’d need to survive the rest of the winter… Continue reading →