hiking in zagros

he next part of our plan had us heading west to the Zagros Mountains for three days trekking and two nights of village homestay. Sounded straightforward – we would collect a second guide, Yaghob, who would lead us over the hills while our driver, Reza, took the car and luggage to our next stop.

A few hours out from Shiraz, we started the walk with an ascent up a valley of old plane trees, continuing through orchards to a small village where we stopped for tea at a local house. Tea was served on a mat on the ground under rough shade in the usual manner while we admired the hens and guinea fowl pecking at the dung heap. We were then shown the women knotting a carpet, and the living room where an old rifle was leaning against the wall ready in case of wolves worrying the sheep. It was by now late afternoon and Yaghob suggested that we might stay the night here and get our bags brought to us by locals as it was impossible to get the car to the village.

That possibility was quickly dismissed while we wondered what arrangements had actually been made. Yaghob then arranged for us to be taken on by a village truck and so after an hour over rough ground we were taken to a small mountain village to meet our hosts for the night and where we were reunited with luggage and car.

After much tea and talk dinner was finally served about 10pm, sitting on the floor, and was strictly male only – guides, male family and the two of us – while the women ate after us in the kitchen. Eventually bedding was brought in and the “tour group” settled in for sleep.

Early next morning we walked out of the village, jumped an irrigation canal, and headed up the mountainside. Hugely strenuous, but quickly rewarding, as we spotted lovely wildflowers and enjoyed great scenery. At first appearing barren and unchanging, the landscape and flora was actually quite varied as we dropped down in to valleys, crossed upland plains and climbed again following no discernible path. After five or six hours we stared to wonder what was happening for lunch as we had seen no sign at all of people but then below us we spotted a “nomad” encampment.

In reality, these are village people who bring their flocks up into the mountains for about five months of grazing after the snow has melted. We had found a family of three whose summer quarters consisted of a large, open, sparsely woven goat hair tent and a separate open cooking area. We were invited to stop for tea, as is customary, and Yaghob asked if they might give us lunch. With the daughter largely out of sight and the mother generally in the background, we ate dates, sheep’s milk butter and sheep’s milk yoghurt with flat bread the daughter had baked. And of course more tea. It was all delicious and we felt very pleased with ourselves.

The nomads had told us that their village was about two hours walk away and so we expected that might indicate how much further we had to go. After about a hour, at 3pm, with still no sign of track or people, we saw below us the first water we had seen since setting out. We expected to follow it downstream but Yaghob wanted to go upstream towards a pass we could see. He also admitted that while he had been in the area a number of times he had never actually been this way. Checking, at last, Google Earth on his phone showed us to be as far from our intended destination as we had already come, and no village closer. We started to get concerned.

Walking on, with a greater sense of haste, we dropped down to the river, found a crossing and headed up a valley until the possible sound of goat bells teased our ears. The sound grew definite and louder, we relaxed a little, and soon came across another summer campsite – uninhabited, but with the start of a rough track which we followed. We passed several families, refused several offers of tea, but found no one who had a vehicle that might help us get out before dark.

Eventually, up ahead, we spotted the telltale blue of the universal truck used in these mountains and hurried to talk to its owner. He seemed very nice but unusually he refused to help and it was now after 5pm.

We were getting very tetchy with Yaghob by now and, now worried himself, he ran ahead to look for another truck. He was well out of sight when a young man on a motorbike came towards us, stopped, and indicated that we should get on behind him. Assuming he had been sent to fetch us, we got on and continued up the track until we were joined by the blue truck from further back and all continued until we found Yaghob. It seemed that the father had refused to help because he wasn’t a confident driver but was too embarrassed to say so. When his son had returned he had sent the truck to follow us. The three of us climbed in the truck at about 6pm feeling very relieved. It still took another hour over rough tracks to get down to the village where Yaghob had arranged to meet the now very worried Reza with our bags.

Accommodation was found with a family who had what amounted to a serviced apartment and who would provide dinner and breakfast. A very tasty chicken stuffed with berries, nuts and herbs was eventually produced at about 10.30 and another late night was made easier by not having to answer the endless questions of the locals. After 10 hours of tiring walking, and not a little stress, we got to sleep after midnight only to be woken at 5am by the very loud call to prayer from the minaret less than five metres from our window. Apparently, land this close to a mosque is almost worthless!

Another traditional breakfast and then off for a short five hour climb up a mountainside to a small lake. Like the day before, we felt short of breath as we climbed but felt less annoyed with ourselves when we found we had started at 2850 metres and risen to 3350. Finding wild tulips amongst the rocks and crocuses growing in muddy snowmelt was very exciting and then we crested the top to be greeted by a small snowfield half covering the lake – a wonderful sight.

Descent to a lunch stop, then back to Shiraz, elated but looking forward to a comfortable bed and a long sleep. Comfortable bed, yes, but not a long sleep as we spent the evening having a late dinner with Yaghob.

The next day, very happy, but still lacking sleep, nursing colds and totally exhausted, we were good for nothing except the nine hour car journey which took us west to Kerman.

Oh, and during the long march we lost the cellphone during a tumble down a rockslide and only realised hours later. Damn!

Geoffrey & John