We spent nearly three months cycling through Iran, entering from Armenia and leaving via the border with Turkmenistan. The landscapes shifted dramatically as we crossed different regions — a testament to just how diverse this country is.
Yet through all that variety, one thing stayed constant: the extraordinary Persian hospitality. If you want to know what life on the road in Iran is really like, don't miss 63 Curiosities about Iran.
Photos from our Iran cycling trip
The first shots are from the border road between Iran, Armenia and Azerbaijan — an absolute stunner. I wrote more about that route here.
On the way to the Caspian Sea coast we had to cross the mountain range that separates it from the rest of the country — the same mountains that give this region its distinctive microclimate.
This lovely family sent us off with buckets of water. It's a Persian (and Turkish) tradition: when a traveller says goodbye, the host throws a bucket of water over the vehicle they're leaving in.
The purity of the water symbolises that the traveller can continue their journey safely, reach their goals, and return home safe and sound — hopefully soon.
Along the Caspian coast we stayed with many families who welcomed us as one of their own. We went on day trips with them to places of interest and hiked in the mountains of the region.
While we waited for some of the visas we were processing in Tehran, we hitched south to Isfahan, a historic city and one of the country's top destinations.
We ended up staying for a week with the family of the driver who'd given us a lift. And people say you can't hitchhike in Iran.
Continuing our cycle through northern Iran, we ran into another couple of German cycle tourers who were riding from Germany to Kazakhstan. We travelled together through Iran for the next few days.
Finally we reached the last major Iranian city: Mashhad, the country's religious heart — and the gateway to Turkmenistan and Central Asia.
The relentless wind was exhausting, so we grabbed any shelter we could find for a rest.
Throughout our time in Iran, we often spent the night at Red Crescent posts (the Iranian equivalent of the Red Cross), where we were always received with open arms.
That said, given the official and religious nature of these places — and the fact that all staff were male — Ilze occasionally felt put out when nobody would address her directly.