The white dress contrasted perfectly with the deep rich coloured sand, and blue ocean. Peering tentatively over a sheer drop at Red Beach, we witnessed a wedding photo shoot on the sands below.
At Rainbow Mountain our walking path twisted through outcrops of jagged rock just as the sun picked out the swirling colours within them. Our tuk tuk driver, Mustafah, guided us through an incredible kaleidoscope of red, purple, yellow and blue coloured mountains, caves and tracks. After complimenting the owner on his exceptional coffee, it was time to explore… We stumbled across a cool coffee shop the next morning, feasting on a traditional herb and tomato omelette, topped by cubes of melting creamy Iranian feta. I was already feeling the magic and energy that the islands resident artist, Dr Nadalain, would later tell me about.
My trusty fixer, Amin, found a tuk tuk driver and within an hour we’d rented a house with courtyard just back from the ocean – for less than $20 a night. Pressures of city life and prying eyes of authority have developed an outdoor culture among Iranians, actually dating back to the Shah’s oppressive regime. They come to explore the island – camp, swim and relax. Most arrivals were young adventurous couples or mixed groups of friends that commonly travel around the country. I was curious to see how an island mind-set transposes itself on revolutionary Iran. Fishing remains the main source of income across the Persian Gulf islands, and people here maintain a traditional, humble lifestyle.
The freshness of salt fused air, beauty of the sunsets and hypnotic rhythm of lapping waves can’t fail to create calmness. We couldn’t be further – physically or mentally – from the gridlock and pollution of Tehran. There are no roads on Hormuz Island, making tuk tuks ideal for chugging along the ferrous red tracks that wind through the colourful rock formations. The weekend was approaching so business was brisk, with Iranians squeezing themselves and their belongings into tuk tuks and heading off to stay in local houses for a couple of nights.
Equally unexpected was the sound-clash of Iranian dance tunes as drivers competed for customers by showing off their on-board sound systems. I was the sole westerner among a hundred of so Iranians taking the thrice daily ferry to this hidden paradise, which at times seems to operate beyond the grasp of their regime.Ī homely surprise awaited as I was greeted from the pier by a parade of pimped-up Chinese tuk tuks, gently touting for business. Their subliminal Islamic guidance, this time, is juxtaposed upon the palm fringed beaches of Hormuz – the ‘Rainbow Island’ – one of the southernmost outposts of Iran. Despite being five miles from the Iranian mainland the ubiquitous frowns of Khomeini and Khamenei – the Supreme Leaders – still bear down on us from a sign as we disembark the local ferry.