Sponsored By
Iranian Powder!
A journey of discovery to sample and search out the Powder delights of Iran. Soon to be a future Voyager trip destination.
Iran is not a destination that readily springs to mind when planning a snowboarding holiday. Most Westerners associate the country with bearded Mullahs, black-clad women and arid plains rather than virgin white powder snow. However when you look at the geography of the place, the scenario starts to make sense. Most of the country lies at above 1000 metres altitude - the same height as Chamonix - and numerous peaks rise to over 4000 metres. The highest summit - Mount Damavand - culminates at 5607 metres, almost 800 metres higher than Mont Blanc. Snow-covered peaks tower above Teheran, and can easily be admired from the city centre when the smog allows. In the 1970s, Reza Shah planned to link the sprawling capital city with the Caspian sea by a network of ski lifts over the Alborz mountains. The first of these starts from inside the city limits and still transports skiers and tourists 2900 metres higher to near the summit of Tochal. The Ayatollahs, however, were less enthusiastic about skiing, and after the Islamic revolution of 1979, the sport was banned for a number of years. Although Reza Shah's dream was never fully realised, a number of ski resorts continue to function today, and can be reached from Teheran in less than two hours by car. The most popular of these are Dizin and Shemshak. Dizin is the highest resort in the country and its ski season lasts well into the month of May. Shemshak, first developed back in the 1950s, is smaller and slightly lower but offers more challenging skiing. It has become renowned for its deep powder and untracked slopes. I went there in February 2008 with Alex de Vogüe and Romain Luksenberg - two other Chamonix mountain guides - on a quest to find deep snow in an exotic location.
We spent a day in Tehran before catching a taxi over the mountains and up through a narrow gorge to the resort. Shemshak itself is not a very endearing place. The streets are muddy and litter-strewn, and building work is continually in progress. On the mountain however everything feels more Alpine. The pistes buzz with wealthy Iranians and music bangs out from a restaurant half-way up the slopes. We had come to savour Shemshak's powder however, not it's pizzas, and so went off in search of powder.
From the top of the antiquated lift system it is possible to access a number of slopes with just a limited amount of hiking.
Unfortunately at the end of the day there is no cold beer to quench the thirst!
After a couple of days we were ready for a change of scene and so we headed further south by overnight bus to Isphahan - Iran's third largest city - and then took a taxi to Chelgerd, a tiny village located deep in the Zagros mountains. Chelgerd is mostly composed of shabby buildings and unfinished constructions and makes Shemshak look positively smart! When we arrived the surrounding hills were wreathed in low cloud and there didn't seem to be much in the way of snow around.
Walking through the muddy streets, devoid of people, and with sleet falling steadily from a grey sky we began to feel a little discouraged. In an attempt to escape the gloom, we headed towards the most brightly lit building in town. It turned out to be the local bakery and was crowded with moustachioed men standing around a paraffin heater. The welcome was as warm as we could have hoped for, and all our efforts to pay for our cakes were firmly refused. That night in the hotel restaurant the same thing happened. We were welcomed like royalty and our fellow customers all clubbed together to pay for our meal.
We awoke the next day to a cloudless sky and spectacular views. Chelgerd was transformed by the sunshine and took on the appearance of a picturesque Tibetan village. The lone drag lift here only runs at the weekend, so we stuck skins onto our skis and started up the roll of low hills that overlooks the town.
Arriving at the top, we could hardly believe our eyes. As far as we could see, in both directions, was the most perfect range of skiable mountains we had ever come across. From horizon to horizon, an impressive succession of uniform faces, narrow couloirs and perfect bowls was tilted up at an angle of 30 to 45°.
Facing north-east and at an altitude of 4000 metres, it promised cold snow as well as great terrain. The only problem was going to be getting to the top and back in a day. Just to gain the foot of the mountains, we would have to ski across three kilometres of flat valley floor, cut through by ravines. Then there would remain the thousand metre climb to the summits, the ski back down and, at the end of it all, the trip back out over the hills that we were standing on top of.
Feeling like modern-day Marco Polos we skied down through a narrow gorge to the valley bottom. Here all notions of exploring un-chartered territory dissipated suddenly and unexpectedly when we came across a group of five skiers - three men and two women - all members of the Iranian Alpine Club. Joining forces we decided to cut a trail up the nearest slope on the far side of the valley. Reaching a ridge at around 3700 metres altitude, we chose to call it a day as the true summit was another couple of hours further on and it was already two o'clock in the afternoon. In any case the best riding lay beneath us.
The descent was a joy, particularly the lower section where the snow had stayed sheltered from the wind and allowed us to carve out big turns on perfect powder.
The next day we got out of bed early and managed to reach the top of the adjacent mountain. Our line of descent followed a wide couloir that fell directly from the summit ridge and this time the best powder was high up.
We arrived back at the hotel as darkness fell and collapsed into bed after the statutory meal of lamb kebab, rice and lemon-flavoured alcohol-free beer. We did not set the alarm...
By the morning of our third day in Chelgerd, motivation levels had become seriously depleted and after a leisurely breakfast we shouldered our skis and walked through town to the foot of the nearest hill we could find. Rising right behind the village, this is where the locals come to play. A rocky ridge allows them to access the top of a slope on foot, and then they slide back home on skis or large inner tubes. We had spotted a couloir line coming down from the summit and skinned up to its entrance. Alex jumped the cornice, landed perfectly on the steep slope underneath and rode the shoot in a few wide sweeping turns. I followed more sedately and we were soon blasting down gentle slopes of perfect corn snow towards the village. We finished our descent in front of the police station, where machine-gun totting police men greeted us with smiles and curious looks.
Tired but content after three days of great skiing, we decided to spend the rest of our holiday visiting the sights of Isphahan. That, however, is another story altogether! Suffice to say that, while village life in Iran may be based around traditional, conservative values, its cities offer a surprisingly vibrant night out.