While we were in Anzali we posted information about our trip on the Tehran Couchsurfing board. We wanted to meet Iranians who spoke English well, because in small towns in the north of Iran we often had trouble communicating on basic matters – let alone discussing profound topics.

We got so many responses that I spent long hours in Anzali answering invitations.

I knew that Couchsurfing, although banned oficially, is very popular in Iran. So many people wrote to us: Teheranians who wanted to host us, those who wanted to show us Tehran and those who wanted to practice English with the hareji over tea or kebab. Guides and hostel owners wrote, for whom CS is a pond to catch newcomers. Iranians from other cities also wrote, taking on the rare contact with the tourist at an earlier stage of their journey. Among them, Mohammad from Isfahan also spoke to us.

Mohammad turned out to be a jack of all trade – a skier, ski tourer, hiker, climber, and generally a man of the mountains.

We agreed to keep in touch and try to go skiing together. We didn’t really know where, how and on what terms, because there are no mountains close by to Isfahan, but somehow we were sure that we would be carefree in his company …

At 11 pm on Thursday we checked into the hotel in Isfahan, and on Friday (i.e. Iranian Sunday) at 5.30 am we were about to go to Fereydunshahr Ski Resort. We were dying of curiosity and quite excited.

At 5.00 am in the morning it was still dark when we took off by Snapp (Iranian Uber) to the agreed place. We reached the corner of the semi-circular square and as we were a few minutes ahead of schedule – we walked within a radius of 200 meters, wondering from which building our new friend would emerge.

Meanwhile, a white Samand drove up to us with Mohammad and his friend Dorsa inside. We greeted them and made ourselves comfortable in the back seats. We left Isfahan drowning in darkness and set off along the foggy highway. We got to know each other slowly asking about life details. He and Dorsa both spoke excellent English, so we could finally hope to have a real conversation.

Until recently, Mohammad was a tourist guide. However, during the Covid19 pandemic, tourist traffic came to a standstill and just as it was about to recover a wave of internal protests poured out in Iran. Western governments have issued travel warnings and foreign tourists are rarely seen in Iran. In Isfahan itself recently, there is bunch of globetrotters in hostels, groups of Turks coming here for a cheap city break, or military-age Russians hanging around. But that’s not a good target group for an Iranian guide fluent in English.

Dorsa, 27, works as radiologist at Isfahan hospital. She lives alone, works and studies at the same time. It was her second skiing expedition in her life and as she had recently sprained her knee while trying to make as turn while snowploughing, so she was a bit afraid it might happen again.

Mohammad and Dorsa met through an English learning site. We joked a bit that since their first meeting was in the holy city of Qom, their relationship must also be sacred.

Meanwhile, the weather cleared up and we entered the Zagros Mountains region. The landscape outside the window was breathtaking: snow-capped mountains and hills stretched for miles creating unearthly arches and curves. Sandy houses stuck like almonds in a cake between them reminded us that we were still within reach of civilization.

We flew through Fereydunshahr – a small sleepy town inhabited mainly by the old migration of Georgians and living mostly from tourists coming here to ski, ski touring or mountainbiking.

And finally we arrived at the ski resort – Fereydun Shahr – about 200 km west of Isfahan. The large parking lot was still almost empty. Several meters below loomed the base station of the lift, and in the distance you could also see a flat slope for beginners.

We stretched our bodies after a 3-hour ride and went down to the rental building. Thanks to Mohammad’s help, we managed to get along with the rental employee quite efficiently and pay for the equipment.

Ski, boots and poles available here are not what we used to rent in Europe. The average age of the equipment is probably around 30 years old. No one here sharpens the skis or cares about their bottoms. Shoes that are too big are adapted by tightening the buckles. But the real star are the poles – paired more or less in height, bent in every direction, without plates and often without loops.

Fortunately, we were able to choose some pieces with which we were going to go.

Mohammad handed us skipasses (here it is simply colored cardboard protected with foil against getting wet) and took Dorsa to beginner’s slope. We went skiing with main lift.

Fereydun Shahr has 2 routes – a narrow ski slope led through a road that is closed in winter and the other – wide, but groomed only to the middle of the slope, because above the route runs along a couloir and the snow groomer can no longer get there. So whoever wants to use the wide route, pulls out in the place where the groomer has arrived, or earlier if it is too steep for him and starts skiing from there.

We went 2-3 times more carefully to warm up our legs, get to know the slope and the equipment.

Jacek’s shoes, about 2 sizes too big, shaped a bit and we tightened them with buckles. Then Mohammad joined us and we did some descents together. Unfortunately, the capacity of the lift was not large, and queues formed quickly at the bottom, although there were almost no people on the slope.  Anyway, itt was very pleasant to ride in full sunshine, on a well-groomed route without ice and moguls with the opportunity of turning to powder snow. We looked carefully at the snow in the gully, but we did not decide to make the full ride, because the gully was shaded for most of the day and there were quite large stones sticking out from under the snow. It would not have been wise to risk legs there with mismatched equipment.

We rode alternately our trips, training trips with Mohammad and also looked at the beginner’s slope where Dorsa was grinding her snowploughs. We shared what we knew about skiing and invented exercises for them.

In the middle of the day, our hosts organised a picnic – they shared with us the lunch they had prepared. Then we went back to the slopes, enjoying the beautiful weather and snow that no alpine resort would be ashamed of.

For many non-skiing Iranians, Fereydun Shahr is a great place to go sledding. Next to the ski slope there is a large sledding slope, much more crowded than the ski slopes. A bit further we also saw a beautifully built igloos and a high-mountain training next to them.

Around 3 pm we all had enough of fun and decided to go back. We handed over our rented equipment and headed to the car.

And again a surprise – there was a party going on in the parking lot. Puffs of smoke billowed from the open trunks of the vans, and people smoked shisha inside. Some people sat on the carpets spread out in the snow next to their vehicles and enjoyed snacks. Others gathered around the blazing fires and warmed their hands, or grilled and boiled tea in blackened pots. Music, chaos, laughter and loud talks everywhere.

In the middle of that Iranian Samand’s, Peugeots Pars’s and Dena’s tried to leave the parking lot, slipping their old, wasted tires on the freezing snow and ice. Every now and then, groups of Persians ran up and pushed vehicles until traction was caught. A gigantic traffic jam has formed here, because somewhere along the main road a group of young people have blocked the street, dancing to the rhythm of the music coming from the old Zamyad. It took us a about an hour to get through that parking circus.

On the way back, we were again surrounded by the same beautiful landscapes. We discussed the differences between the ski resorts of Iran and Europe and learned the dreams of our new friends. We took short naps one after another. And only Mohammad remained awake, driving our group back to Isfahan.

If you want to experience skiing in Iran just as we did – contact Mohammad Sajjadi: Mobile: +98 913 864 7717, Insta: @sajjadi92

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