Iran > Helicopters in the desert

Two travel days through the desert on the way to Mashhad—a total journey of about a thousand kilometers. Along the way, we will stay overnight in Tabas, a desert town that was almost completely destroyed by a severe earthquake in 1978. Before starting the desert journey, we first visit two historical Zoroastrian sites. On the outskirts of the city stands the fire temple of the Zoroastrians. The fire has been burning since the fourth century AD.

Iran - The Zoroastrian Fire Temple in Yazd

As I approach the temple, I immediately see the symbol of the Faravahar above it. This sacred symbol depicts a man with two large wings. The oval water reservoir in front of the temple is empty, as it is being renovated, the caretaker explains. A pity, because otherwise the temple would reflect beautifully in the water. I climb the stairs and enter the temple. I see the eternal flame, burning behind a glass plate to prevent unholy air from reaching it. I press my camera against the tinted glass to avoid reflections. Outside the city lies the Silence Mountain. In the past, deceased people were placed on this mountain. Vultures would then consume the bodies, preventing contamination of the earth by the deceased. Today, this form of burial is no longer allowed. Funerals now take place in carefully sealed concrete boxes on a nearby cemetery to avoid contamination. I climb Silence Mountain. From the roughly one-hundred-meter-high hill, I overlook the suburbs. In the past, this site was far outside Yazd. Now the city is steadily expanding. I am surprised by the difference in buildings compared to my visit two years ago; many more houses have been built around the Silence Mountain.

Iran - The Tower of Silence in Yazd once served the Zoroastrians as a funerary tower

At the top, I enter a kind of fortress. Inside is the round pit of the old sky burials. I descend via the other side and examine the remains of buildings at the base of the hill, which served as ceremonial sites, a washing area, and a qanat (water reservoir). Back on the bus, we join the highway and leave Yazd. About seventy kilometers outside Yazd lies the ancient city of Kharanaq, consisting of mud-brick houses built against the mountainside. Nowadays, most houses are abandoned. I walk under the gate into the old city. It is a maze of alleys and old houses. Care is needed, as many structures are so dilapidated that I frequently check whether the surfaces I step on are sturdy enough. The Lonely Planet rightly warns that previous travelers have fallen. I wander through covered passageways, climb small staircases, and inspect a few old houses. Eventually, I reach the restored mosque, which is closed.

Iran - The remains of two crashed American helicopters from a 1978 rescue mission at the US embassy

When I return to the bus, the driver and Ali have prepared lunch. After lunch, we need to refuel. The bus drives into the gas station against the flow of traffic, ignoring the line of waiting trucks. This quickly leads to arguments. Several drivers come to confront us, but when they see us watching as tourists, the tone moderates. We drive into the desert. I see endless barren plains. It is hazy. The wind blows a lot of sand into the air, creating a cloudy appearance even though the sun is shining. Just past the halfway point of the route, two military helicopters stand in the desert. These American helicopters crashed in 1978 during the failed rescue mission of the kidnapped embassy staff. The hostage situation lasted more than a year. The helicopters look remarkably well-maintained, likely preserved as a triumphant monument. Around 4:30 p.m., we enter Tabas. The town was heavily affected by the 1978 earthquake. Many people subsequently left the town. The mausoleum of the brother of Imam Reza has been rebuilt and occupies a prominent place in the center of Tabas.

Iran - The Imamzadeh Hossein Mausoleum in Tabas

In the middle of a large roundabout stands the large complex, surrounded by some shops and small restaurants. I walk to the mausoleum complex. In the center, under the tall dome, stands the shrine. I follow some local men inside. The interior is entirely covered with small mirrored mosaics, as I have seen before in Qom and Shiraz. The shrine is golden with green lighting; green is the color of Islam. Beautiful! Men pray on the mats facing Mecca. I try to pass as inconspicuously as possible on my way out. Next, it is time for the hotel—or rather, bungalows. I was prepared in advance for the most basic overnight stay. The small houses are joined together. The room is almost square, with three simple beds each against one wall. I estimate my mattress is only a few centimeters thick. One towel is provided for every two people. From a small vent, I feel a stream of air; behind it, a kind of fan draws outside air in—a variant of air conditioning. In the kitchenette, there is an old stove and a small counter. It looks run-down. I resolve not to touch anything in the kitchen and would certainly not want to cook here. I take my sleeping bag out of my suitcase and lay it on the bed for the night. In the evening, I eat at a small restaurant near the mausoleum. There aren’t many options, but the kebab tastes excellent. When we leave, it turns out Jan is still in the restroom. We quickly drive back to pick him up.