Still, we struggled on until pitching the tents behind a petrol station—a beautiful
spot overlooking a dam. However, we soon discovered our mistake as mosquitoes
came out in force. No sooner were the tents pitched than I noticed the pond alive
with hundreds of slithering snakes (I’m not exaggerating). I could only stare wide-
eyed at what must’ve been the worse place I’ve ever pitched a tent! If ever you
were inclined to envy my life, this wasn’t a time to envy. Being already late, I
crawled into the tent only to surface the following morning.
It subsequently dawned upon me that they were likely eels and not snakes; still, I
endured an uncomfortable night.
Alat – road camp - 88 kilometres
Encountering a headwind made me feel my problems were never-ending. But, at
least the road surface improved closer to the capital. The country folk remained
extremely welcoming, continually waving us in to have tea. Tea was drunk from a
small tulip-shaped glass and served from a larger pot. Time was usually spent
chatting if that’s what one could call our limited vocabulary.
Reaching the Caspian Sea sounded far more idyllic than it turned out to be. The
coastline wasn’t only littered with garbage and oil-related industries but also with
pipelines. By evening, tenting was by the side of the road, which turned out next
to a rubbish dump! Not only was I tired, dirty and covered in mosquito bites but I
hadn’t showered in days, and had run out of deodorant! Needless to say, I was in
a foul mood, which wasn’t the country’s fault or its people’s fault.