OLD BIKE, NEW TRICKS
IRAN
Having had a blow-out in India, I’d worried that the replacement tyre wouldn’t last. I needn’t have though, because having already covered 3000km, it still had a third of its rubber. I could get to Tehran before putting on a new one. Knowing there were spare tyres waiting for me in Tehran took a weight off my mind. The only broken spokes in recent days had been those that were on the bike when I left Australia. The spokes that I had made for me in Pakistan were proving stronger.
As the desert road steadily climbed between the mountain ranges, their peaks covered in heavy snow, I realised I should have altered the carburettor jet before leaving Bam. When I stopped for lunch, with 147km behind me, I was shivering. It was time for my thermals. I pressed on for a while, but even with extra clothing I felt I couldn’t make it much further. Just 30km short of Kerman, I spent the night in an abandoned house. For the first time, I used my self-inflating camping mattress, wondering why the heck I’d never unrolled it before. Despite its thin profile,
