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Before seeing those photos, I had been ignorant of Middle Eastern geography but revelation is the humbling poetry of travel. I jumped at the opportunity to join the expedition to Iran with Craig and a few other snowboarders from North America. These included first- descent master Tom Burt and Canadian mountain-guide John Buffery, who would guide us in mountains that top out at more than 18,000 feet. Dutch-American photographer Ari Marcoupolos and cinematographer Bill Gallen completed our team. The Alborz Mountains swallowed us as our minibus drove north f rom Tehran. Long, poorly l it tu nnels linked impossib ly high mountain passes. The frozen winter wrapped around my senses. The aroma of roasting pistachios f rom a roadside vendor clashed with gasoline that sti ll stunk at 13 cents per gallon. Persian rock 'n' ro ll screeched from a mono speaker on the dashboard as we continued upward , sliding around the icy curves. The occasional neon light blinked in shop windows, jet -lagged blurs in the dark of night. Eventuall y, fou r hours north of Tehran we arrived at our lodging, a marble-floored hotel situated in a deep valley between staggering summits. The mounta ins were pure fantasy, glowing under the moon. The peaks and rocky designs were riddled with dreamlike terrain: couloirs waving down sheer faces, created as though Allah himself were a snowboarder. Avalanche terrain traps at the bottoms of most slopes made much of the landscape forbidding, and all we wou ld have to navigate by were a handful of unreliable local topographical maps that Buff had collected. But first, we warmed up inbounds at Di zin, one of Iran's largest sk i resorts built in the earl y 1970s by the Shah for his wi f e, who loved to ski . Elevations close to 12,000 feet , modern gondolas, a dozen li fts vertica l feet make Dizin a deal at fo ur dollars a I ift ticket. Long groomed runs swept down above tree-line vistas and if it weren't for the Farsi-printed t rai l markers and the language spoken on the slopes, you might think you were in Europe- perhaps Austri a's Arlberg region. Upon walking t hrough the gates of this world-class ski area, Craig discovered that a snowboarding revol ution had occurred since his last visit. Hundreds of snowboarders had appeared at t he resort, compared to perhaps a dozen before. It was a com ing out, of sorts, where individ uality had spawned togetherness. An Aust rian known as Alex had formed a snowboard school. Competitions reminiscent of the early days of North American snowboard rac ing had crowned champions who handed us double-sided business cards in Farsi and English with "Professional Snowboarder" t itles gleaming almost as bright ly as thei r proud faces. There were no parks or halfpipes. There was a mixture of ancient snowboarding equipment and hip Iranians sporting the newest gear avai lable via the Internet. In Iran, skiing and snowboarding are pastimes of the middle to upper classes. But, just like America, renta l shops line the road to the mou ntains where the typical fa mily from Tehran can afford an occasional day on the slopes. Decked f rom head to toe with rental atti re and snow sl iding tools, they look a decade behind. Virtual posses of female snowboarders didn't all have on trad itional black Islamic hejab (vei l) coverings. Some did, but many women wore multicolored scarves or beanies revea ling gl impses of hai r and daring eye makeup. 82