I fear my pictures don't do the place justice.
1. Masuleh Valley.
2-4. Masuleh village.
5. Impromptu tea stop, the couple who invited me in their tent for chai.
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Iran, Land of Enchantment (1 Viewer)
- Thread starter Jos Stratford
- Start date
I fear my pictures don't do the place justice.
1. Masuleh Valley.
2-4. Masuleh village.
5. Impromptu tea stop, the couple who invited me in their tent for chai.
ovenbird43
Well-known member
Awesome stuff. Love the pictures!
30 August. Masuleh.
It's a little surreal to be in Iran looking for Robins and Blue Tits!That was however my day's plan, hiking back into the forests at dawn, following the same track as the afternoon before. Green Warblers quite common, at least 15 seen, also Red-breasted Flycatchers, a minimum of six. Great Spotted Woodpecker and Song Thrush new for the trip, also plenty of Coal Tits and a Eurasian Nuthatch. Three or four kilometres along however, something rather more dramatic - fresh scuff marks on the trail, this was sure not a garden gnome! A little more investigation, claw marks where the beastie had been rooting through the soil, pads too - a Brown Bear had strolled this way during the night, what a sight that would have been!
Green Woodpeckers, Spotted Flycatchers, Blackcaps, all pleasant fare. And of course, both my Robins and Blue Tits! A few hours along, scrambling down a slope better suited to a mountain goat, I decided to take a short cut down to the valley road far below. Grey Wagtails and Wrens along the stream, a flock of ten Common Ravens overhead. I walked back to Masuleh, a flock of Long-tailed Tits at the village to greet me.
Spent the mid-afternoon hours doing a 'raptor watch', which in reality meant basking in the sun on the terrace outside my room, the view a nice panorama over village and valley beyond. I had expected a little passage through the valley, perhaps kites and buzzards, maybe an eagle or two. The result however was not exactly stunning - three Common Buzzards!!!
For evening wanders, I took the steep road beyond Masuleh - scenic but not so productive birdwise. Green Warbler and Red-breasted Flycatcher about best, European Bee-eaters and a Red Fox also welcome. Retired for the day, wandering the back alleys of the village for a while.
It's a little surreal to be in Iran looking for Robins and Blue Tits!That was however my day's plan, hiking back into the forests at dawn, following the same track as the afternoon before. Green Warblers quite common, at least 15 seen, also Red-breasted Flycatchers, a minimum of six. Great Spotted Woodpecker and Song Thrush new for the trip, also plenty of Coal Tits and a Eurasian Nuthatch. Three or four kilometres along however, something rather more dramatic - fresh scuff marks on the trail, this was sure not a garden gnome! A little more investigation, claw marks where the beastie had been rooting through the soil, pads too - a Brown Bear had strolled this way during the night, what a sight that would have been!
Green Woodpeckers, Spotted Flycatchers, Blackcaps, all pleasant fare. And of course, both my Robins and Blue Tits! A few hours along, scrambling down a slope better suited to a mountain goat, I decided to take a short cut down to the valley road far below. Grey Wagtails and Wrens along the stream, a flock of ten Common Ravens overhead. I walked back to Masuleh, a flock of Long-tailed Tits at the village to greet me.
Spent the mid-afternoon hours doing a 'raptor watch', which in reality meant basking in the sun on the terrace outside my room, the view a nice panorama over village and valley beyond. I had expected a little passage through the valley, perhaps kites and buzzards, maybe an eagle or two. The result however was not exactly stunning - three Common Buzzards!!!
For evening wanders, I took the steep road beyond Masuleh - scenic but not so productive birdwise. Green Warbler and Red-breasted Flycatcher about best, European Bee-eaters and a Red Fox also welcome. Retired for the day, wandering the back alleys of the village for a while.
31 August. Masuleh & Transit to the East.
Not much happened on this day!
With Pleske's Ground Jay and Iraq Babbler revealing themselves far quicker than anticipated in the earlier parts of the trip, I had now come to the end of my planned itinerary.
'Hmm', pondered I over a couple of days, 'still many days left in Iran, what to do?'.
As nice as Masuleh was, I really had no wish to spend too many days looking for birds easier seen from my kitchen window! So, reflecting on the punishing temperatures and humidity that had combined with all the desert and mountain treks, it seemed that much of my trip to Iran had been a somewhat test of physical endurance ...so, continuing in similar vein, I decided to squeeze in one extra destination - the mighty Mount Damavand, at 5760 metres, the highest mountain in the Middle East, sure to end my trip on a high!
A final morning in the forests of Masuleh, Great Spotted Woodpeckers, Red-breasted Flycatchers and the Green Warblers amongst the goodies, and then it was time to depart, down the valley and to the city of Rasht. From there I took a bus. Only about 430 km east by road, but the congested coastal road, hugging the Caspian Sea all the way and meandering through various cities, hardly makes for speedy travel. Long hours passed, a couple of Black Kites the only compensation of note. I'd left Masuleh mid-morning, but only made it to Amol by nightfall, still 75 km short of Reynah, my starting point for the mountain. No hotel, so camped in a field by the road.
Not much happened on this day!
With Pleske's Ground Jay and Iraq Babbler revealing themselves far quicker than anticipated in the earlier parts of the trip, I had now come to the end of my planned itinerary.
'Hmm', pondered I over a couple of days, 'still many days left in Iran, what to do?'.
As nice as Masuleh was, I really had no wish to spend too many days looking for birds easier seen from my kitchen window! So, reflecting on the punishing temperatures and humidity that had combined with all the desert and mountain treks, it seemed that much of my trip to Iran had been a somewhat test of physical endurance ...so, continuing in similar vein, I decided to squeeze in one extra destination - the mighty Mount Damavand, at 5760 metres, the highest mountain in the Middle East, sure to end my trip on a high!
A final morning in the forests of Masuleh, Great Spotted Woodpeckers, Red-breasted Flycatchers and the Green Warblers amongst the goodies, and then it was time to depart, down the valley and to the city of Rasht. From there I took a bus. Only about 430 km east by road, but the congested coastal road, hugging the Caspian Sea all the way and meandering through various cities, hardly makes for speedy travel. Long hours passed, a couple of Black Kites the only compensation of note. I'd left Masuleh mid-morning, but only made it to Amol by nightfall, still 75 km short of Reynah, my starting point for the mountain. No hotel, so camped in a field by the road.
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1 September. Mount Damavand.
Heavy dew on my tent, woke at Amol to the rumble of cars on the adjacent highway. Naught doing here, time to pack and head for Damavand.
My standard attire for the previous three weeks, indeed all I had with me, amounted to little more than slacks, tee-shirt and flip-flops, hardly appropriate for a mountain of such serious status. Hoping the ice-fields wouldn't be too treacherous and that the nights wouldn't be minus ten, my plan was to see how far I could ascent, even having delusions that I might reach the summit. That idea didn't last long! Reaching Reynah, with Damavand now apparent in all its glory, I was surprised by the extent of snow on its upper slopes - any climb would entail many hours traversing the frozen top and its ice. Readjustment of plan, hike on day one to Gusfand Sara, location of base camp, altitude 3020 metres.
Passing through the village of Reynah, engrossed by the views and birds such as Levant Sparrowhawk, Syrian Woodpecker and Eastern Rock Nuthatch, I made the foolish oversight of not asking the way to base camp. Oops, a mistake that was to turn my trek from a reasonably arduous five hours to a mammoth nine hours, albeit nine hours full of birds. From Reynah, I turned right (the correct way is left!) and then found a track that appeared to head straight for the summit. Perfect, thought I, admiring a flock of European Bee-eaters, photographing an Eastern Rock Nuthatch and admiring the first of many Red-fronted Serins. Seriously hard work, the trail zig-zagging ever up, the gradient steep and the temperature about 25 C. Many pauses for birds, flocks of Rock Sparrows, a Red-backed Shrike, a Southern Grey Shrike, the first Rock Thrushes of the day. Up ahead, still far in the distance, the snow and ice beckoned. I already suspected however I had taken the wrong route - the climb to Damavand is popular with Iranians, I had even seen some in Reynah village, but the route I was taking was totally deserted, the only company some far-off goat herders. Not one for turning back, I dismissed my doubts, thinking to cut across the mountain at a higher altitude, the correct route had to lay to the south. Abundant birds, Persian Wheatears now appearing, small flocks of Shore Larks and quite a number of Rock Sparrows, plus yet more Red-fronted Serins and numerous Northern Wheatears.
Several hours into the climb, I reached the head of a valley, the slopes on all sides now steep scree, my path petering out at a summer camp for goat herders. Hmm, no way I was going to spend the rest of the day scrambling up (and more likely down) the scree, time to cut across the mountain. Had a brief pause at the herders' camp, altitude approximately 3500 metres, a small stone hut surrounded by a hundred goats, three surprised herders, a water tap (rather welcome) and an assortment of birds including Rock Thrush, Persian Wheatear and large numbers of Shore Lark. Overhead, a flock of about 30 Alpine Chough performed aerial acrobatics, on the stone hut three Rock Buntings. Then southward, following the slope, trying not to either ascent or descent. Goat paths and later a track aided my way, two Golden Eagles floated over, then a Long-legged Buzzard too. Pretty good birding most of the way, though somewhat patchy, occasional stretches almost devoid of birds, then a mini-bonanza as a whole heap of species occurred together. Chukar flushed off the slopes, Black-eared Wheatears joined the Persian Wheatears, a single Finsch's Wheatear also encountered, but the best spot was a small gully an hour or two along. As I paused for a rest, Red-fronted Serins busied themselves on seedheads, a Rock Thrush sat on a rock, but the two best birds were hopping along the ground between tussocks of vegetation - one Radde's Accentor and, unexpected at this altitude, a Wryneck!
Still eluding me, and very much targets of the day, were Grey-necked Buntings and Crimson-winged Finches, both supposedly common birds on Damavand. I continued my walk, a distant meadow, somewhat lower in altitude, appeared to hold a small camp, it could just be the base camp I supposed, so began in that direction. Two Tawny Pipits added to the day's tally, several Common Kestrels hovered nearby and then, two passerines rose from the slope and vanished over the brow. Small chunky affairs, they deserved a better look - followed them down the hill and there they were, two Grey-necked Buntings. Excellent, another of the trip's target birds under the belt. By now, late in the afternoon, doubts were creeping in as to whether the meadow I was approaching was in fact base camp - it actually looked like another summer camp for herders. And indeed it was, but just short of it, I scanned the mountainside above and spotted the tents of Alpinists, now truly I was in the right area. At a very high altitude, they had to be at Barghah-e-Sevvom, better known as 'camp 3', altitude 4230 metres and, more importantly directly above base camp. I climbed towards it and, as a ridge fell away, they lay base camp, an assemblage of two or three huts, a few mules and a small mosque built for the benefit of mountaineers. A half hour later, into the camp I arrived, abundant Ortolan Buntings feeding around the mules, a welcoming cup of tea in the hand of one of the guys laying inside a tent.
Nights are chilly at this altitude, so I was more than happy to accept the offer to sleep in the mosque, home for the next two nights, the company an assortment of most jovial mountaineers. Admiring the degree of equipment that the local climbers were lugging up the slopes, I was quite content to conclude that base camp was going to be my summit, the birding here quite ample to satisfy me for a couple of days.
Heavy dew on my tent, woke at Amol to the rumble of cars on the adjacent highway. Naught doing here, time to pack and head for Damavand.
My standard attire for the previous three weeks, indeed all I had with me, amounted to little more than slacks, tee-shirt and flip-flops, hardly appropriate for a mountain of such serious status. Hoping the ice-fields wouldn't be too treacherous and that the nights wouldn't be minus ten, my plan was to see how far I could ascent, even having delusions that I might reach the summit. That idea didn't last long! Reaching Reynah, with Damavand now apparent in all its glory, I was surprised by the extent of snow on its upper slopes - any climb would entail many hours traversing the frozen top and its ice. Readjustment of plan, hike on day one to Gusfand Sara, location of base camp, altitude 3020 metres.
Passing through the village of Reynah, engrossed by the views and birds such as Levant Sparrowhawk, Syrian Woodpecker and Eastern Rock Nuthatch, I made the foolish oversight of not asking the way to base camp. Oops, a mistake that was to turn my trek from a reasonably arduous five hours to a mammoth nine hours, albeit nine hours full of birds. From Reynah, I turned right (the correct way is left!) and then found a track that appeared to head straight for the summit. Perfect, thought I, admiring a flock of European Bee-eaters, photographing an Eastern Rock Nuthatch and admiring the first of many Red-fronted Serins. Seriously hard work, the trail zig-zagging ever up, the gradient steep and the temperature about 25 C. Many pauses for birds, flocks of Rock Sparrows, a Red-backed Shrike, a Southern Grey Shrike, the first Rock Thrushes of the day. Up ahead, still far in the distance, the snow and ice beckoned. I already suspected however I had taken the wrong route - the climb to Damavand is popular with Iranians, I had even seen some in Reynah village, but the route I was taking was totally deserted, the only company some far-off goat herders. Not one for turning back, I dismissed my doubts, thinking to cut across the mountain at a higher altitude, the correct route had to lay to the south. Abundant birds, Persian Wheatears now appearing, small flocks of Shore Larks and quite a number of Rock Sparrows, plus yet more Red-fronted Serins and numerous Northern Wheatears.
Several hours into the climb, I reached the head of a valley, the slopes on all sides now steep scree, my path petering out at a summer camp for goat herders. Hmm, no way I was going to spend the rest of the day scrambling up (and more likely down) the scree, time to cut across the mountain. Had a brief pause at the herders' camp, altitude approximately 3500 metres, a small stone hut surrounded by a hundred goats, three surprised herders, a water tap (rather welcome) and an assortment of birds including Rock Thrush, Persian Wheatear and large numbers of Shore Lark. Overhead, a flock of about 30 Alpine Chough performed aerial acrobatics, on the stone hut three Rock Buntings. Then southward, following the slope, trying not to either ascent or descent. Goat paths and later a track aided my way, two Golden Eagles floated over, then a Long-legged Buzzard too. Pretty good birding most of the way, though somewhat patchy, occasional stretches almost devoid of birds, then a mini-bonanza as a whole heap of species occurred together. Chukar flushed off the slopes, Black-eared Wheatears joined the Persian Wheatears, a single Finsch's Wheatear also encountered, but the best spot was a small gully an hour or two along. As I paused for a rest, Red-fronted Serins busied themselves on seedheads, a Rock Thrush sat on a rock, but the two best birds were hopping along the ground between tussocks of vegetation - one Radde's Accentor and, unexpected at this altitude, a Wryneck!
Still eluding me, and very much targets of the day, were Grey-necked Buntings and Crimson-winged Finches, both supposedly common birds on Damavand. I continued my walk, a distant meadow, somewhat lower in altitude, appeared to hold a small camp, it could just be the base camp I supposed, so began in that direction. Two Tawny Pipits added to the day's tally, several Common Kestrels hovered nearby and then, two passerines rose from the slope and vanished over the brow. Small chunky affairs, they deserved a better look - followed them down the hill and there they were, two Grey-necked Buntings. Excellent, another of the trip's target birds under the belt. By now, late in the afternoon, doubts were creeping in as to whether the meadow I was approaching was in fact base camp - it actually looked like another summer camp for herders. And indeed it was, but just short of it, I scanned the mountainside above and spotted the tents of Alpinists, now truly I was in the right area. At a very high altitude, they had to be at Barghah-e-Sevvom, better known as 'camp 3', altitude 4230 metres and, more importantly directly above base camp. I climbed towards it and, as a ridge fell away, they lay base camp, an assemblage of two or three huts, a few mules and a small mosque built for the benefit of mountaineers. A half hour later, into the camp I arrived, abundant Ortolan Buntings feeding around the mules, a welcoming cup of tea in the hand of one of the guys laying inside a tent.
Nights are chilly at this altitude, so I was more than happy to accept the offer to sleep in the mosque, home for the next two nights, the company an assortment of most jovial mountaineers. Admiring the degree of equipment that the local climbers were lugging up the slopes, I was quite content to conclude that base camp was going to be my summit, the birding here quite ample to satisfy me for a couple of days.
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MKinHK
Mike Kilburn
Another fine vicarious escape from reports meetings and deadlines - I haven't freelanced a mountain like that for almost 20 years! Mine was in black chinese kungfu slippers - flip flops is another degree of lunacy beyond that!
However my all-time footwear lunacy record must go to the fine Chinese ladies climbing an icy Emei Shan in high heels and party frocks in 1991.
Cheers
Mike
However my all-time footwear lunacy record must go to the fine Chinese ladies climbing an icy Emei Shan in high heels and party frocks in 1991.
Cheers
Mike
ghasempouri
Well-known member
Jos, to be frank, I really enjoy from your writhing style. Damavand has a soft way to having easy walking but a very hard nature (bad weather)!
You know Wheathers is my favor (just like my avatar ; ). You had a good field survey in Alborz. Did you find any different pattern for Black-eared Wheatear plum? Something called vittata morph
Also, you record Persian wheatear here: Oenanthe chrysopygia. I have a hand photographed that I could not identified ! I think you can do me a favor as always.
Thanks a lot
You know Wheathers is my favor (just like my avatar ; ). You had a good field survey in Alborz. Did you find any different pattern for Black-eared Wheatear plum? Something called vittata morph
Also, you record Persian wheatear here: Oenanthe chrysopygia. I have a hand photographed that I could not identified ! I think you can do me a favor as always.
Thanks a lot
Richard Klim
-------------------------
Pleske's Ground Jay, Touran
Richard
Of interest, the latest Podoces includes a paper giving details of an area for the ground jay on the Mehrano plain in the Touran reserve:
Satei, Kaboli, Cheraghi, Karami, Najafabadi & Goljani 2010. Breeding activities and success of Pleske's Ground Jay Podoces pleskei in Touran Biosphere Reserve, Semnan Province, Iran. Podoces 5(1): 35-41.
http://www.wesca.net/Podoces/Podoces5.1/PODOCES 5_1_- Breeding success of Podoces pleskei.pdf
http://www.wesca.net/Podoces/Podoces5.1/PODOCES 5_1_- Breeding success of Podoces pleskei.pdf
Richard
This whole area would be absolutely fascinating, but needs a vehicle at least I believe, no 'normal' roads entering the region. Also permission/permits needed to enter. Certainly worth the effort though I imagine.
2 September. Mount Damavand.
No chance of oversleeping with mountaineers in your midst - up an hour before dawn, stomping about in their boots, chattering about their climb ahead. I couldn't moan though - soon they were stoking up their little gas stoves, a nice hot mug of tea then handed to me, most luxurious, me still tucked up in my sleeping bag.
By the time I eventually emerged into the chilly outside, the first rays of the sun were just beginning to outline the snowy peak of Damavand. My climbers were long gone, now distant dots snaking up scree high above, their next stop, Camp 3, on a ridge still many hours ahead of them. Further up again, climbers from that camp were attempting the summit, picking their way across glaciers.
A beautiful morning, cloudless, windless, soft light. Already, flocks of Ortolan Buntings around mules waiting their loads, Northern Wheatears and Black Redstarts on rocks and Shore Larks feeding at the camp's edge. In contrast to the Alpinists, my goals for the day were far less lofty - my main desire to reach the small plateau I had mistaken for Base Camp the evening before, a little to the south and a few hundred metres lower in altitude. A hillside or three away, plenty of birds en route - several hundred Shore Larks, a number of Rock Thrushes, a Water Pipit and, in flocks of 20 and four respectively, both Chough and Alpine Chough.
Arrived on the plateau to find Isabelline Wheatears and Tawny Pipits running around on the grass, a high-altitude Hoopoe also probing the turf. After a few minutes showing the local shepherd folk my binoculars, they seeming most impressed, I settled down by one of the two pools excavated to water the livestock. The only water in the vicinity, it was abuzz with action - flocks of birds descending to drink. Linnets, Rock Sparrows, Ortolan Buntings, all in abundance. Also one Common Rosefinch drinking, several Crag Martins skimming the surface and, high above, a swirl of Alpine Swifts soaring out from the peak of Damavand, a solitary Common Swift with them.
A good hour by that pool, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the temperature now climbing towards its daytime high of 25 C. Still however I had not bumped into Crimson-winged Finch, always a nice bird to see, so from the plateau I hiked back to the slopes that I had crossed the day before. Birds much the same - plenty of Chukar, another Persian Wheatear, yet more Shore Larks, but also no less than eight Rock Buntings and, all concentrated into a relatively small area, six Grey-necked Buntings. Memorable moment of the afternoon however, as I took a breather on a rocky ridge, was a 'conveyor belt' of raptors - each close of the tail of the one in front, and all barely 50 metres above me, over they cruised, the first almost making me duck! Long-legged Buzzard, Golden Eagle, Golden Eagle, Long-legged Buzzard, what a spectacular chain. Had I been not watching the first bunch disappear over the next ridge along, it could have five in a row - an accipitor passing over moments later, probably a Levant's Sparrowhawk, but views were simply insufficient, me spotting it just in time to watch its bum scooter off!
Anyhow, no Crimson-winged Finch, so for the day's finale, I retired to Base Camp. Crouching down amongst the mules, watching the sun begin to set with one eye, the other admired the abundant Ortolans and occasional Black Redstart and Northern Wheatear, all posing nicely for photograph. So ended another day, back to the mosque for tea, writing of the notes and then to sleep.
No chance of oversleeping with mountaineers in your midst - up an hour before dawn, stomping about in their boots, chattering about their climb ahead. I couldn't moan though - soon they were stoking up their little gas stoves, a nice hot mug of tea then handed to me, most luxurious, me still tucked up in my sleeping bag.
By the time I eventually emerged into the chilly outside, the first rays of the sun were just beginning to outline the snowy peak of Damavand. My climbers were long gone, now distant dots snaking up scree high above, their next stop, Camp 3, on a ridge still many hours ahead of them. Further up again, climbers from that camp were attempting the summit, picking their way across glaciers.
A beautiful morning, cloudless, windless, soft light. Already, flocks of Ortolan Buntings around mules waiting their loads, Northern Wheatears and Black Redstarts on rocks and Shore Larks feeding at the camp's edge. In contrast to the Alpinists, my goals for the day were far less lofty - my main desire to reach the small plateau I had mistaken for Base Camp the evening before, a little to the south and a few hundred metres lower in altitude. A hillside or three away, plenty of birds en route - several hundred Shore Larks, a number of Rock Thrushes, a Water Pipit and, in flocks of 20 and four respectively, both Chough and Alpine Chough.
Arrived on the plateau to find Isabelline Wheatears and Tawny Pipits running around on the grass, a high-altitude Hoopoe also probing the turf. After a few minutes showing the local shepherd folk my binoculars, they seeming most impressed, I settled down by one of the two pools excavated to water the livestock. The only water in the vicinity, it was abuzz with action - flocks of birds descending to drink. Linnets, Rock Sparrows, Ortolan Buntings, all in abundance. Also one Common Rosefinch drinking, several Crag Martins skimming the surface and, high above, a swirl of Alpine Swifts soaring out from the peak of Damavand, a solitary Common Swift with them.
A good hour by that pool, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the temperature now climbing towards its daytime high of 25 C. Still however I had not bumped into Crimson-winged Finch, always a nice bird to see, so from the plateau I hiked back to the slopes that I had crossed the day before. Birds much the same - plenty of Chukar, another Persian Wheatear, yet more Shore Larks, but also no less than eight Rock Buntings and, all concentrated into a relatively small area, six Grey-necked Buntings. Memorable moment of the afternoon however, as I took a breather on a rocky ridge, was a 'conveyor belt' of raptors - each close of the tail of the one in front, and all barely 50 metres above me, over they cruised, the first almost making me duck! Long-legged Buzzard, Golden Eagle, Golden Eagle, Long-legged Buzzard, what a spectacular chain. Had I been not watching the first bunch disappear over the next ridge along, it could have five in a row - an accipitor passing over moments later, probably a Levant's Sparrowhawk, but views were simply insufficient, me spotting it just in time to watch its bum scooter off!
Anyhow, no Crimson-winged Finch, so for the day's finale, I retired to Base Camp. Crouching down amongst the mules, watching the sun begin to set with one eye, the other admired the abundant Ortolans and occasional Black Redstart and Northern Wheatear, all posing nicely for photograph. So ended another day, back to the mosque for tea, writing of the notes and then to sleep.
3 September. Damavand & Polur.
Delaying the inevitable, Tehran was looming, thoughts of a congested city, an urban mass of chaotic traffic and supposed levels of pollution none too kind, I lingered in the pristine lands of Damavand longer than I really needed, enjoying the fine birding and spectacular landscapes.
So, for today, my task was relatively simple - from Base Camp, hike back down to the valley bottom, returning not to Reynah, but to Polur further to the south. At dawn, I said my final farewell to all in camp, and through the meadows and over rock ridges I went, not following the track, but a rather more direct route, albeit steep. Alpine Swifts much in evidence this morning, at least 55 circling over the peaks, plus plenty of Shore Larks and Ortolans as usual, but also a few added extras to bid me on my way - a pair of Western Rock Nuthatches and a Water Pipit for starters. As I clambered down, Tawny Pipits also on the slope, I flushed a few Chukar, bumped into three more Grey-necked Buntings, then finally ran into the bird that had been eluding me or several days, Crimson-winged Finch. Most anti-social, they immediately upped and flew off, last seen as tiny specks heading towards Mongolia! Down, down, down, slowly the bird mix began to change - greater numbers of Red-fronted Serins, lesser numbers of Shore Lark and Ortolan. New for the trip, six Skylarks marked the end of my cross-country trek, I had now reached the Reynah-Polur road, a quiet meandering road that still offered great potential for birding. A small gully nearby looked most tempting, I sat on the road bridge and scanned the shrubbery, one Plain Leaf Warbler, four Rock Buntings and a Common Rosefinch the results. However, more impressive were the numbers of butterflies - blues, greyling-types, a few Silver-washed Fritillaries and a couple of skippers, there just had to be new species for me! A most enjoyable hour so followed, trying to identify the little blighters, hoping to get some reasonable photographs. For some perverse reason, all the butterflies in that gully found great pleasure in visiting only flowers midway down an impossibly steep scree slope, the result being I would slide past most without hope of getting a picture, wayward stones sending the butterflies into the air before I got within range! Needless to say, eventually, with some rather scuffed ankles, I got a representative selection of photographs - the skipper, a couple of the blues, one of the greyling-types. Identification still waiting, will paw over the photographs soon and hopefully find a guide to that region!
Content with the butterflies, I then hitch-hiked a lift down to Polur with one of the occasional vehicles passing by. In reality, I could easily have gone directly to Tehran, but I quite fancied an afternoon's birding along the river, Polur sitting in a deep valley, relatively well wooded and hopefully supporting a few migrants. Stayed at the Mountain Federation's hostel, a large well-located building just before you get into Polur, then set off to explore. Eastern Rock Nuthatches around the village, a large chicken kebab and rice in a roadside restaurant, then a walk northward along the river. Not as productive as I had hoped, probably later in the month would have been better, but still the birding was pleasant - a couple of Hoopoes, a Red-breasted Flycatcher, two Southern Grey Shrikes, plus more Rock Sparrows and a number of common species such as White Wagtail, Linnet and Goldfinch. Along the stream itself, Grey Wagtails flitted from rock to rock and, in the shadow of overhanging bushes, another new bird for the trip - first one, then a second, Thrush Nightingales, rather more showy that the average individual back home on their East European breeding grounds!
A deep valley skirting the heights of Damavand, it must get a reasonable passage of raptors, so I presumed. Again, I suppose too early in the season, but still a trickle of birds passed over - first a couple of Common Buzzards, then four Honey Buzzards, another new species for the trip. No eagles of any sort, but another two Levant's Sparrowhawks during the afternoon.
Got waylaid by a most charming family on the way back to the hostel - as I was hauled into their house, a spread of food materialised almost instantaneously, chicken kebab, Kentucky chicken, vegetables galore, desserts that were certainly rather yummy and a supply of tea that could have filled a vault. An hour or so drifted by, my binoculars going for wanders with the father of the house, the warmth of their friendship offered in return. When eventually I departed their home, my stomach was rather full - I'd actually eaten a full proper meal twice on this day, most untypical of me! Late afternoon ambles were basically confined to the slopes above the hostel, not a lot seen - one Lesser Grey Shrike, a flock of Rock Sparrows, a few Northern Wheatears. Retiring to my digs for the night, I knew what lay before me the next day, the big city!
Delaying the inevitable, Tehran was looming, thoughts of a congested city, an urban mass of chaotic traffic and supposed levels of pollution none too kind, I lingered in the pristine lands of Damavand longer than I really needed, enjoying the fine birding and spectacular landscapes.
So, for today, my task was relatively simple - from Base Camp, hike back down to the valley bottom, returning not to Reynah, but to Polur further to the south. At dawn, I said my final farewell to all in camp, and through the meadows and over rock ridges I went, not following the track, but a rather more direct route, albeit steep. Alpine Swifts much in evidence this morning, at least 55 circling over the peaks, plus plenty of Shore Larks and Ortolans as usual, but also a few added extras to bid me on my way - a pair of Western Rock Nuthatches and a Water Pipit for starters. As I clambered down, Tawny Pipits also on the slope, I flushed a few Chukar, bumped into three more Grey-necked Buntings, then finally ran into the bird that had been eluding me or several days, Crimson-winged Finch. Most anti-social, they immediately upped and flew off, last seen as tiny specks heading towards Mongolia! Down, down, down, slowly the bird mix began to change - greater numbers of Red-fronted Serins, lesser numbers of Shore Lark and Ortolan. New for the trip, six Skylarks marked the end of my cross-country trek, I had now reached the Reynah-Polur road, a quiet meandering road that still offered great potential for birding. A small gully nearby looked most tempting, I sat on the road bridge and scanned the shrubbery, one Plain Leaf Warbler, four Rock Buntings and a Common Rosefinch the results. However, more impressive were the numbers of butterflies - blues, greyling-types, a few Silver-washed Fritillaries and a couple of skippers, there just had to be new species for me! A most enjoyable hour so followed, trying to identify the little blighters, hoping to get some reasonable photographs. For some perverse reason, all the butterflies in that gully found great pleasure in visiting only flowers midway down an impossibly steep scree slope, the result being I would slide past most without hope of getting a picture, wayward stones sending the butterflies into the air before I got within range! Needless to say, eventually, with some rather scuffed ankles, I got a representative selection of photographs - the skipper, a couple of the blues, one of the greyling-types. Identification still waiting, will paw over the photographs soon and hopefully find a guide to that region!
Content with the butterflies, I then hitch-hiked a lift down to Polur with one of the occasional vehicles passing by. In reality, I could easily have gone directly to Tehran, but I quite fancied an afternoon's birding along the river, Polur sitting in a deep valley, relatively well wooded and hopefully supporting a few migrants. Stayed at the Mountain Federation's hostel, a large well-located building just before you get into Polur, then set off to explore. Eastern Rock Nuthatches around the village, a large chicken kebab and rice in a roadside restaurant, then a walk northward along the river. Not as productive as I had hoped, probably later in the month would have been better, but still the birding was pleasant - a couple of Hoopoes, a Red-breasted Flycatcher, two Southern Grey Shrikes, plus more Rock Sparrows and a number of common species such as White Wagtail, Linnet and Goldfinch. Along the stream itself, Grey Wagtails flitted from rock to rock and, in the shadow of overhanging bushes, another new bird for the trip - first one, then a second, Thrush Nightingales, rather more showy that the average individual back home on their East European breeding grounds!
A deep valley skirting the heights of Damavand, it must get a reasonable passage of raptors, so I presumed. Again, I suppose too early in the season, but still a trickle of birds passed over - first a couple of Common Buzzards, then four Honey Buzzards, another new species for the trip. No eagles of any sort, but another two Levant's Sparrowhawks during the afternoon.
Got waylaid by a most charming family on the way back to the hostel - as I was hauled into their house, a spread of food materialised almost instantaneously, chicken kebab, Kentucky chicken, vegetables galore, desserts that were certainly rather yummy and a supply of tea that could have filled a vault. An hour or so drifted by, my binoculars going for wanders with the father of the house, the warmth of their friendship offered in return. When eventually I departed their home, my stomach was rather full - I'd actually eaten a full proper meal twice on this day, most untypical of me! Late afternoon ambles were basically confined to the slopes above the hostel, not a lot seen - one Lesser Grey Shrike, a flock of Rock Sparrows, a few Northern Wheatears. Retiring to my digs for the night, I knew what lay before me the next day, the big city!
turkish van
Number 1 celebrity badger
Just managed to get through all this, great write up of an amazing trip, hopefully more photos on the way...
Another pre-order for your book here
Another pre-order for your book here
5 September. Tehran.
A somewhat polluted, sprawling city. Already hinted at, the roads a congested free for all, mapcap drivers thinking nothing of going the wrong way into the face of a traffic onslaught thundering towards them, motorbikes frequently avoiding the lot by zigzagging down the pavement, scattering pedestrians in their wake. More chance of being mowed down in this city than seeing any birds! All that said, Tehran is the beating heart of Iran, for all it lacks in aethetic charm, it clamours to compensate by adding a vibrant pulse.
Whilst in the city, I did pop in to see the artwork adorning the walls of the US Den of Espionage, a.k.a. former American Embassy, most colourful pictures they are too, the Statue of Liberty in all its glory, doves and missiles, an interesting selection. Aside the murals, Hooded Crows and Laughing Doves enjoy the rare patch of greenery beyond the decorated walls. Across town, however, I spent rather more time in the relative oasis of Park-e-Shahr, a block and a half of somewhat calm and tranquillity, a wooded park that allows Tehranis to step out from the mayhem of the city buzz. Not bad for birds all things considering - Ring-necked Parakeets and Common Mynahs finding home, White-cheeked Bulbuls too, their populations undoubtedly arising from escapes. Aside them, the usual Laughing Doves and Hooded Crows, quite a bunch of Great Tits, plus surprise of the day, a Common Nightingale hopping about in the shrubbery.
This was my last day in Iran sadly, so nipped back to the bazaar for a souvenir or two, then returned to the park as the sun began to set. Locals relaxing on the grass, a distant muezzin calling the faithful to prayer and, in the skies above, a final finale to my birding trip - all making a beeline to the park to roost, flocks of Ring-necked Parakeets, a pair of noisy Hobbies and, in their hundreds, masses of Rooks, the latter my last new species for the trip, and indeed the last birds of any sort on the trip.
6 September. Departure.
7.00 a.m. departure, lifting into an Iranian sunrise. Tehran slumbering beneath, Mount Damavand rose to the north, my trip to Iran was over.
Thank you Iran, you welcomed me in, you left me in awe. A fantastic country, the people, the diverse landscapes, the birds, truly the Land of Enchantment.
...
A somewhat polluted, sprawling city. Already hinted at, the roads a congested free for all, mapcap drivers thinking nothing of going the wrong way into the face of a traffic onslaught thundering towards them, motorbikes frequently avoiding the lot by zigzagging down the pavement, scattering pedestrians in their wake. More chance of being mowed down in this city than seeing any birds! All that said, Tehran is the beating heart of Iran, for all it lacks in aethetic charm, it clamours to compensate by adding a vibrant pulse.
Whilst in the city, I did pop in to see the artwork adorning the walls of the US Den of Espionage, a.k.a. former American Embassy, most colourful pictures they are too, the Statue of Liberty in all its glory, doves and missiles, an interesting selection. Aside the murals, Hooded Crows and Laughing Doves enjoy the rare patch of greenery beyond the decorated walls. Across town, however, I spent rather more time in the relative oasis of Park-e-Shahr, a block and a half of somewhat calm and tranquillity, a wooded park that allows Tehranis to step out from the mayhem of the city buzz. Not bad for birds all things considering - Ring-necked Parakeets and Common Mynahs finding home, White-cheeked Bulbuls too, their populations undoubtedly arising from escapes. Aside them, the usual Laughing Doves and Hooded Crows, quite a bunch of Great Tits, plus surprise of the day, a Common Nightingale hopping about in the shrubbery.
This was my last day in Iran sadly, so nipped back to the bazaar for a souvenir or two, then returned to the park as the sun began to set. Locals relaxing on the grass, a distant muezzin calling the faithful to prayer and, in the skies above, a final finale to my birding trip - all making a beeline to the park to roost, flocks of Ring-necked Parakeets, a pair of noisy Hobbies and, in their hundreds, masses of Rooks, the latter my last new species for the trip, and indeed the last birds of any sort on the trip.
6 September. Departure.
7.00 a.m. departure, lifting into an Iranian sunrise. Tehran slumbering beneath, Mount Damavand rose to the north, my trip to Iran was over.
Thank you Iran, you welcomed me in, you left me in awe. A fantastic country, the people, the diverse landscapes, the birds, truly the Land of Enchantment.
...
TwoDipsfromAmsterdam
Anything About?
Thanks, Jos. This was a wonderful account of a remarkable journey. Like many others on here, I enjoyed every minute.
David
David
