Out on the dry plateau east of Isfahan, the ground looks flat and empty until you notice the little craters in a straight line, each one ringed by a mound of spoil, running off towards the horizon. Those are the shafts of a qanat, an underground water channel, and the Mozd Abad qanat belongs to the same landscape as the Qanat of Vazvan, one of the group inscribed by UNESCO in 2016 as the Persian qanat.
A qanat works by gravity alone. Diggers sink a mother well into the foot of the mountains, where the water table is high, and then dig a gently sloping tunnel out across the plain, so that water emerges at the surface kilometres away without any pump. Vertical shafts every few dozen metres let the diggers bring up earth and let in air. The craft is thousands of years old, passed from master to apprentice, and the diggers, the muqannis, were respected and paid well because their work was dangerous. A good qanat could keep a village alive for centuries, and the water was shared out by a strict timetable measured by sun or by a small bowl floating in a larger one.
The roads here are long, empty and rewarding if you like space. Between Isfahan, Natanz and Kashan the highway crosses a plateau of pale gravel, salt flats and jagged brown hills, and the horizon is huge. There are few corners, but strong winds and dust are normal, and a summer midday over forty degrees is serious, so ride in the morning and carry far more water than seems necessary. Spring and autumn are comfortable, with clear air, and winter nights can be cold and frosty.
The label also mentions Gaz, the name of a town and of the chewy pistachio nougat made around Isfahan, a traditional sweet usually sold in shops by the roadside. Isfahan itself is the city for fuel and a proper meal, since the desert villages offer only a few shops and a teahouse. Kashan, further north, has a fine old bazaar and historic merchant houses with courtyards cooled by wind towers. Check the rules for foreign travellers and vehicles before you plan a route.