This Iranian Refugee Found Freedom in Bikepacking
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Name: Mahshid Hadi
Age: 31
Hometown: Vancouver, British Columbia (originally from Esfahan, Iran)
Occupation: AP/Radio Technician
Time Cycling: On and off for more than 25 years
Reason for Cycling: On the bike, I am free.
I was just a 6-year-old girl in Esfahan, Iran, in 1997 when my parents bought me a bike, and I had never loved anything more. After many falls, I taught myself how to ride in our backyard. On the bike I felt free, and I wanted nothing more than to ride all the time.
But when I turned 9, I was no longer able to ride freely. That’s when I was forced to wear a hijab, and I also attended my Jashn-e taklif ceremony, which marks the end of childhood and beginning of adulthood. I was no longer a child—I was considered a “woman” now—so biking was taken from me, as general modestly laws didn’t allow women to ride. This began a decades-long journey to reclaim that freedom I had once found.
As I grew older, I became more outspoken against the repression women experienced in Iran. I tested boundaries and defied rules. When I was 12 years old, I cut my hair extremely short and started to advocate for women experiencing domestic violence. I became more and more politically active, and experienced punishment at home. My father was a traditional man, influenced by Iran’s male-dominated society, and uneducated. He thought prohibiting me from my rights was protecting me. My mother, however, was always helping me, but was always fearful I would get punished.
My activism and religious beliefs—I am a converted Christian—soon caught attention from officials in Iran and the Ministry of Intelligence of the Islamic Republic, which was then known as VEVAK. Because of my activity, our home was raided by Iranian authorities in 2014. They collected as much evidence as they could to make a strong case that I was a spy, and proof that I was an actively converted Christian.
I would have rather been executed than be in prison in Iran, where physical and mental torture is daily. So overnight and with just the clothes on our backs, my mom and I fled to Turkey, where we lived for many years as refugees.
Unfortunately, my father was not able to escape because he was disabled at the time.
Although we had fled Iran, I still did not feel free, and always desired to get back to riding a bike. I had zero contact with my family for a while after I arrived in Turkey, and was traumatized and scared. I had nightmares every night, and was terrified by sirens.
There was no transitional support or counseling available for refugees. However, I was lucky enough that the theater community accepted me into their program and an English colleague hired me to work legally.
I worked extremely hard for two years to save up enough money to buy a bike. I applied to all the language schools in the town and finally one school hired me legally. That opened the doors for me. For a few months upon my arrival, I also painted with Turkish coffee and natural dyes (the cheapest material I discovered) and a friend in Germany sold some of my artwork for me.
At 23, I finally had a bike again and I took full advantage of the freedom it allowed me through bikepacking. I rode my bike throughout the Turkish countryside alone. It was complete freedom, even though I was a refugee.
I heard a lot from people that what I was doing was not safe, especially as a refugee without identification, and especially in eastern Turkey. However, the only things I experienced were the warm hospitality of Turkish, Kurdish, and refugee families in camps. Even if they were in a poor financial situation, they took good care of me during my stays.
It seemed like I was the only refugee bikepacker in Turkey, as I mostly saw European travelers on bikes. As a refugee, I was not allowed to leave the town I was registered in, so I reached out to the United Nations and requested to volunteer and help Syrian refugees in Turkish camps. I then went to immigration offices in the refugee areas and spoke to the police. When they saw my honest intention of wanting to help others, they extended my card and allowed me to travel on my bike. I am grateful for that kind police officer who helped me.
Then in late 2018, I immigrated to Canada where I have continued to bikepack as a refugee. I brought my bike with me—one of my few possessions.
After a year of being in Canada, I went to visit my sister in the United Kingdom who also had to leave Iran for security reasons. I spent four months solo hiking and backpacking there and catching up with my sister.
Since moving to Canada I have biked all over, including the Gulf Islands and the Alaska Highway in Yukon. I took my first multi-night solo backpacking trip in British Columbia in the summer of 2019. I mostly planned self-supporting routers and bikepacked solo. And last summer, I connected with other Iranian hikers who showed interest in joining my bikepacking endeavors. For me, bikepacking is the best way to maintain my mental health and fitness. I can’t live without it.
Although I usually go backpacking solo, I have enjoyed connecting with other women. Through Liv Cycling, in October 2023, I have the opportunity of a lifetime to bike with my riding partner in a self-supported journey to the Arctic Ocean on the Dempster Highway. It’s a 500-kilometer journey from Tuktoyaktuk to the Arctic Circle, and is considered Canada’s “wildest highway.”
I am not afraid of nature, and find I feel most alive on my bike—uninhibited and powerful. Cycling gives me a mental break from anxiety and strengthens my body. When I’m biking, my body and mind are in sync, and it helps me heal.
I will continue to advocate for Iranian freedom and women’s rights, and I hope to inspire other women and refugees to find the same peace, healing, and freedom of cycling. I try to find different opportunities to advocate and help, whether creating human-rights events to educating the community and fundraising for women in Iran, or mentoring new immigrants to help them with their growth here in Canada and beyond.
These three tips have helped make my cycling journey a success:
1. Plan ahead
Consider weather, time limitations, route type/difficulty, and accessibility for your bikepacking adventure. This helps you to choose the best bike setup and to measure how much food and water to carry.
2. Ask for advice
It is worth it a million times over to ask people who have done a route you plan to ride previously. Although we are so lucky to live in the age of technology, it is not fully reliable in remote routes. So it’s crucial to have first-hand information from local people and the community about the latest road/trail condition.
3. Ride early and finish before dark
If you are used to night riding, consider the risks, such as wildlife activity and low visibility. And be prepared if anything goes wrong in the dark. Handling a night ride out (in nature) is often more challenging, and navigating is extra hard. It’s easy to miss the trail signs (if there are any at all) in backcountry trails. Whether you’re doing a side road repair or pitching the tent, night cycling life is more time consuming and risky.
Mahshid’s Must-Have Gear
→ Lezyne Roll Caddy: The pack rolled is only as big as the tools you store in it.
→ Wolf Tooth Pack Pliers: These can break a chain, tighten a bolt, adjust a derailleur limit, and clean out a clogged valve, which is priceless in the middle of nowhere.
→ Ursack Major Bear Resistant Bag: Having a bear bag and rope to hang the food away from your tent and shelter is a smart safety move. I am all for sharing, but the bear can find their own food.
→ SteriPen Ultra Water Purifier: Filtering the water in a land that provides abundant water along the trails is a huge relief. The UV filter is fast, and the light is rechargeable.
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