Two men pass me as I continue my descent . They carry spades as they reluctantly walk up to the stranded vehicle . They have a tough job ahead of them .
Speeding along again , we overtake trucks piled high with salt . Their load was harvested from the last stop on this desert tour , the Aran va Bidgol Salt Lake , a triangular shaped lake of around 650 square kilometres .
Mehdi , in his now familiar driving style , veers a sharp left bouncing the car over the road verge onto the salt lake . There are no roads and he chooses his own path , driving on the dry salt bed for a few hundred metres before gliding to a stop . We ’ re alone under the rapidly fading sky .
The salt forms a tessellated polygon pattern stretching off in all directions . The ridged edges of each shape protrude upwards , cracked and wrinkled . Underfoot , the salt crunches as I walk . The lake is not always dry and when wet , is a sea of sludge . I turn around in a slow circle , staring at the expanse of the crusty lake , then bend down to break off a piece of the dusty crystal and put it on the tip of my tongue . Definitely salt .
Mehdi takes a thermos , two glasses and a watermelon out of his boot . He slices the watermelon into quarters and offers us fruit and tea . Unfortunately , Mehdi has little English and communication is difficult . I enjoy my tea and watermelon in silence .
In the fading light , Mehdi ’ s driving terrifies me even more . The traffic is heavy . Everyone is anxious to get home and we ’ re driving blind in their dust trail .
I ’ m delighted to spot five camels waiting one behind the other to cross the busy road , but there ’ s no stopping and we pass them in a flash . Hopefully they reached their destination safely .
Dark now , a young man waving a torch next to his stranded motorbike appears suddenly through the dust cloud in the beam of our headlights . Mehdi scarcely misses him .
At a service station on the edge of the desert , mechanics attend to broken-down four-wheel drives . Motorbike riders stand forlornly beside their broken-down bikes , hitching a ride .
Back at the hotel , relieved and yet invigorated , I climb out of Mehdi ’ s car . I wouldn ’ t change this afternoon ’ s experiences for the world . JK
TRAVERSE 46