It is my first travelogue which was written in May 2019. I’m not a professional writer, so please bear with me.
Introduction
I’m so overwhelmed I don’t know where to start. My mind is struggling to digest all the strange and surprising events that happened to me in just 48 hours. Should I talk about Hassan-i Sabbah’s castle or the cliffs of Andaj? Lake Ovan or Garmarud’s waterfalls and Silikan? And those were just the places. On the people side, should I start with Chris? Or Jeppe and the Vikings? Or Zaker? Wait, my mind is making connections — Zuckerberg? Silicon Valley? I know I’m rambling, but please blame it on my amazement and what Jeppe said about Silikan village reminding him of Silicon Valley. Anyway, let’s stop these mental leaps and go step by step.
Planning, Wrong Assumptions, and Discouragement
It was Wednesday afternoon, May 22, 2019, right after my usual weekly football game. On my way home, Shahrzad messaged me saying she had a few days off and suggested we plan a short 2-3 day trip. After our recent surprising trip to Chabahar, I was looking for somewhere close and lush to relax from our daily routines. When I got home, we reviewed our options and eventually chose Alamut. To be honest, as someone originally from Gilan who’s seen many lush mountain areas, the pictures of Alamut’s nature didn’t seem that extraordinary. I was more interested in the history of the region. Little did I know that I’d soon be proven utterly wrong. That night, we searched for a place to stay but had no luck — most booking sites weren’t working properly, and we were left feeling somewhat discouraged.
Morning of Day One: Hope Returns, The Journey Begins, and Amazement
Luckily, the next morning we kept searching and eventually found a nice eco-lodge at a good price and booked it for two nights. Though we started late — around 11 AM — we hit the road. Everything was familiar until we reached the Qazvin-to-Alamut road, which took about two hours and was a bit tiresome. To make things more interesting, Shahrzad started looking up Hassan-i Sabbah and the Ismaili sect. She ended up reading about Nizam al-Mulk, the Mongol book burnings, and finally Zabiollah Mansouri and the Aga Khan Award, which had recently been given to Master Shajarian! Try connecting all of those yourself! Anyway, as soon as we entered the Alamut road, the wonders began. All the way to our destination, we were met with stunning scenery — deep valleys, grassy fields swaying in the wind, rare birds, endless plains, colorful mountains, and whale-like peaks (more on that later). We passed by villages like Kuraneh, Shinqor, Miyanbar, Rashtequn, Razjerd, and Qastin, eventually stopping in Rajaee Dasht to fill up the gas tank. We continued through Dikkin village and finally reached the town of Moallem Kalayeh, which had helpful facilities like gas stations, repair shops, and public toilets — all of which we made full use of! After that, we passed through Shahrak, Dezdaksar, Mahmoodabad, and Shotorkhan, arriving at a fork in the road. One path led to Garmarud, the other northward. We chose north and finally reached Gazorkhan village around 3:30 PM. After checking into our eco-lodge and freshening up, we decided to visit Hassan-i Sabbah’s castle.
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The map shows the route we took from the beginning of the Qazvin-to-Alamut road to our destination. Although we didn’t take the part that goes to Tonekabon. All the images are taken on the road from Qazvin to Alamut
Afternoon of Day One: A Visit to the Castle of Hassan-i Sabbah
It took just five minutes to walk from the lodge to the ticket area. From April to September, the castle is open until 7 PM, and in colder months until 4 PM. Visitors can hike up or rent a mule. Hiking takes about 30 minutes; mule-riding takes 20. Sadly, not much remains of this 1000-year-old castle — erosion, Mongol destruction, and damaging excavations have left it in ruins. At the time of our visit, parts were under restoration and off-limits. Notable sections include the entrance, two rectangular water basins, and a dungeon-turned-tea-house. Highly recommend trying the wild thyme herbal tea — one of the best I’ve had. From the castle’s top, there’s a breathtaking view of the surrounding region, perfect for photography. There were about 50 visitors in the 2 hours we were there, including four foreign tourists. Two were from Hong Kong and Germany; the others, from Australia and the Netherlands — Chris and Jeppe. We met them at the castle entrance just as they were leaving and we were entering. The unexpected encounter led to a half-hour conversation — seems we had cultural common ground! From the addresses they gave us, we guessed they were staying at our lodge. We said goodbye and agreed to meet again that evening.
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All the images are taken from the inside or outside of the castle of Hassan-i Sabbah
Night One: Iranian Tea with a Viking
Back at the lodge as dusk fell, we asked the manager about Chris and Jeppe but were told they weren’t staying there. They might be at another place lower in the village. Earlier that day, we’d heard a weird sound near the driver’s wheel, so we decided to go to Moallem Kalayeh where there were mechanics. Turned out the brake pad was worn out, but we got it replaced without any hassle. On the way back, we grabbed a delicious local flatbread that reminded us of Tabrizi “Fatir”. Later, we tried a sweet variety too. We stopped by a different lodge and — bingo! — found Chris and Jeppe. They had just finished dinner and said they’d also looked for us earlier. We picked them up and brought them to our place. We served them the bread, watermelon, and traditional Iranian tea. Chris, a 45-year-old from Melbourne and a senior police officer, had traveled to 60 countries and just entered Iran. Jeppe, a 21-year-old from Kampen, Netherlands, planned to study mechanical engineering. He had been exploring Iran for two months, including a two-week stay on Hormuz Island. He raved about the places he’d visited — places we ourselves hadn’t yet seen. His father is Dutch, his mother Danish. So of course, I brought up Vikings. With his towering frame, he really did look the part. He said he was writing a fantasy story inspired by Hassan-i Sabbah and the castle — likely influenced by his Viking heritage. Our conversations ran late into the night until the lodge owner finally kicked us off the balcony! We drove them back and agreed to pick them up at 9:30 AM the next morning.
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All the images are taken from the Gazorkhan village
Morning of Day Two: Andaj, the Spongy Cliffs
At exactly 9:30 AM, as planned, we picked up Chris and Jeppe and headed straight for Andaj. There are two main routes from the Alamut road to reach Andaj. The first is a more direct branch near the village of Shahrak, passing through villages like Sa’in Kalayeh, Molla Kalayeh, and Kandanser before reaching Andaj. The second, more scenic but twisty and remote route, branches off near Moallem Kalayeh and doesn’t pass through any villages before reaching Andaj. We chose the second route. The winding mountain road was awe-inspiring, resembling the famed Hazarcham pass near Chalus. We even saw a rock formation resembling the “Fairy Chimney” near Zanjan. Eventually, we reached a fork but, without internet, we took the wrong turn and ended up in a village called Kuchnan. After asking locals, we turned back and took the correct path, finally arriving in Andaj. At first glance, it was just a roaring river — nothing amazing. But after asking a few local tour groups and showing them some photos of what we were looking for, we were pointed in the right direction. The first stop was a pair of cave-like holes in a cliff — mildly interesting. But the second site — the “Spongy Cliffs” — was something else entirely. Shahrzad noted their resemblance to a sponge, and I agreed. Words can’t do them justice — please refer to the photos! Around 11:30, we left Andaj, returning to the main Alamut road via the first route — the one with rice paddies and small villages.
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All the images are taken from the Andoj village
Midday of Day Two: Lake Ovan, Silicon
Back on the main road, we drove toward Qazvin. After passing Moallem Kalayeh and before reaching Dikkin, we took a detour to Lake Ovan. The lake lies in a valley at the end of a winding road. Along the way is the village of Kooshk, and closest to the lake is Zarrabad. The whole detour took about 30 minutes. We arrived around 12:30 PM. Since it was spring and a weekend, the lake was a bit crowded — about 20 families had set up camp, and seven paddle boats floated on the water. The sun was blazing, so with help from Chris and Jeppe, we quickly pitched our tent. I suddenly remembered we hadn’t brought cards, and I mentioned it to the group. Surprisingly, Jeppe had brought a deck! I suggested we play. Jeppe mildly agreed, but Chris, tired, declined. So Shahrzad and I went for a walk while the others rested. The lake had decent facilities — a restaurant and toilets. The sky was clear, clouds floated like swans, and a gentle breeze swayed the reeds and rippled the water. Tiny white floating flowers decorated the lake, and distant mountains framed the scene beautifully. After a while, we returned and woke the others. We were all hungry, so we decided to eat at the lake’s restaurant. We ordered two plates of Qeimeh Nesar, one Loobia Qalyeh, and one Baghali Ghatogh. Since these are all stews, they were already prepared. We shared everything — the Qeimeh Nesar was especially amazing. Chris and Jeppe loved the local dishes, and prices were reasonable. When Chris tried to pay with a 50,000 toman bill, I refused — not very Iranian of him, I joked! After lunch, we got back in the car and returned to the main road. Instead of taking the road back toward Gazorkhan and our lodge, we took the main path forward, passing through villages like Khooban and Silikan en route to Garmarud. Silikan was a beautiful village, and I pointed out how its name reminded me of Silicon Valley. Jeppe quipped that they might not be so different — I’ll let you decide! It was also around this time that Chris made an observation: the melting snowcaps in the distance looked like whales. That’s when I first started calling them “whale-shaped peaks.”
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All the images are taken from the Ovan Lake except the last one which is taken from the Silikan village
Afternoon of Day Two: Garmarud — Qazvin? Alborz? or Mazandaran?
From the fork at Gazorkhan, it took us about an hour to reach Garmarud. Interestingly, it’s located right at the intersection of three provinces: Qazvin, Alborz, and Mazandaran. Our destination was a waterfall. Upon arrival, we asked locals for directions — everyone just said, “Go up!” So we kept climbing… and climbing… the road twisted endlessly, and it started to feel like we were going too far. Finally, two motorcyclists going the opposite way flagged us down and told us we’d gone past it. They kindly led us back to the correct spot. From the roadside, the waterfall wasn’t visible, so Chris, Jeppe, and I decided to hike down. The path was rocky, narrow, and steep — I still don’t know how we made it safely! After 15 minutes, we reached it. It’s called “Pichbon Waterfall,” named after the nearby village. Honestly, it was one of the most magnificent sights I’ve ever seen. The water’s force was so intense that we couldn’t get closer than 10 meters. The mist in the warm spring air was refreshing, and a rainbow had formed beneath the falls — simply stunning. After about 20 minutes, we hiked back up, this time slower and more exhausting. We didn’t have time to keep going, though the road eventually leads to the forests of 3000 and 2000, and finally to Tonekabon. On the way back, we dropped off Chris at a hotel near Garmarud. He planned a long solo hike the next day. We said goodbye — though I had a feeling Chris’s eyes were still searching for those “whales.” Around 6:30 PM, we got back to Gazorkhan, dropped Jeppe off at his lodge, and returned to ours to rest. He agreed to join us for the ride back to Tehran the next day. That evening, I sat outside the room, reflecting on the magical day we’d had, listening to the symphony of Alamut’s birds, and fell asleep early to wake up for tomorrow’s return.
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All the images are taken from the Garmarud waterfall
Morning of Day Three: Return to Tehran with a New Companion
The next morning at 8:30 AM, we picked up Jeppe from his lodge, only to find him sitting next to someone new — Zaker, an Afghan man. He was also heading to Tehran. I invited him to ride with us; after a bit of polite hesitation, he agreed. Thus began our four-person return journey. We talked the whole way. Zaker told us he was 34, from Badakhshan, had four kids, and had spent most of his life displaced — 20 years in Pakistan, 10 in Iran. His Dari Persian was beautiful and sweet. Jeppe spoke about his future plans, and sometimes Zaker asked him questions, which I translated both ways while driving! Jeppe was fascinated by Iran’s abundance of blue Nissan trucks — he even named them “blue trucks.” Ironically, we didn’t see a single one until we neared Qazvin. The roads were nearly empty. Because of that, rare birds had ventured close to the roadside, and we managed to identify a hawk and a hoopoe among them. Finally, around 4 PM, we arrived in Tehran. Jeppe and Zaker went their separate ways, and so did we.
Final Words
The next day, Chris messaged me — he’d hiked 36 kilometers! His route started in Garmarud and ended at the Pichbon caravanserai. When he sent me photos and videos of the place, we both felt a deep sense of peace. I hadn’t realized how breathtaking the melting snow could look up close. Chris had found his whales — and I, at 30 years old, had rediscovered my homeland. My Alborz. Myself. I must admit, the six years I spent as a child in the northern town of Amlash were by far the best years of my life (before marriage, of course). This trip brought back those memories — the poetic wonder of childhood discovery. Through the eyes of Chris and Jeppe and their joy in exploring Iran, I was reminded to look closer, deeper, at my own country — especially the Alborz mountains.
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Image is taken from the Pichbon Caravanserai