Karvangah looks like a name from the old caravan roads, since the word seems to mean a place for caravans, and that is exactly the character of this part of Zanjan province. Tracks like this were studded with caravanserais, walled inns spaced a day's travel apart, with a gate, a courtyard, stables and rooms around it, and the Safavid shah Abbas I built dozens of them.
If you are riding here, that history shapes the road. The modern route from Qazvin to Zanjan and on to Tabriz follows the old line, climbing gently onto the plateau, passing through towns like Abhar and Soltaniyeh, and offering long straights and low passes. It is a big, fast road with a lot of lorry traffic, in which the main hazards are overtaking trucks and loose gravel at the edges. Away from the highway you meet narrow lanes between villages, with old brick walls and the occasional ruin of a caravanserai standing in a field.
The landscape is high steppe. In spring the plain is green with young wheat, and the hills behind are dotted with red tulips and poppies for a short time. By July it is brown and dry, with dust devils in the afternoon, and by November there may be snow. The light is the great reward here, especially at the edges of the day, when the dome of Soltaniyeh turns the colour of honey and the shadows stretch for miles.
Zanjan, about thirty-nine kilometres to the north-west, is the provincial capital, with some three hundred and fifty thousand people. It is known for its knife-makers, for its fine filigree silverwork, and for thick, flat bread baked in stone-lined ovens. Abhar is the nearer town on the other side and has fuel stations as well. The sensible rule for Iran applies: fill up whenever you see a station you trust, carry water and expect people to offer you tea with a smile.