Latest news with #MountDamavand
The Journal
5 days ago
- The Journal
Dublin woman sets off for Papua New Guinea in bid to climb world's highest volcanos
A DUBLIN WOMAN is on a mission to reach the summit of the highest volcano in each of the planet's seven continents. Milasha Joseph has already scaled the likes of Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa in her bid to complete the feat. It's an ambition inspired by a desire during the pandemic lockdown of five years ago to improve her stamina and endurance. 'It was to break out of my comfort zone,' Milasha explained to The Journal . 'I was thinking of trying to do something like skydiving or something adventurous, but at that point, I couldn't do it because it was hard to travel outside the country. 'So I thought, I'll train my body and do something like hiking. By 2021, I thought, okay, fine, I could do this. So why not seven volcanic summits?' Those seven summits in full are: Mount Kilimanjaro – Africa Mount Damavand – Asia Mount Elbrus – Europe Pico De Orizaba – North America Ojos del Salado – South America Mount Giluwe – Oceania (which is considered a continent in some parts of the world and for the purpose of this mission) Mount Sidley – Antarctica Malasha has ticked the first four off her list, with Mount Giluwe in Papua New Guinea next up later this month. Advertisement However, rain season and the risk of mudslides mean the mountain is safest to climb only during a brief window of just a few weeks in August and September. The accountant, who lives in south Dublin, explained that it was a 'deeply personal journey' for her as she is asthmatic, which she felt had previously inhibited her from similar experiences. She adapted her training to include cardio and core work to strengthen her lungs for the 5,000 kilometre high summits. Her mountaineering has also been inspired by a desire to have 'other women with health conditions to believe in their strength' and to push themselves. Milasha at the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro in Africa The last summit on Milesha's list is Mount Sidley in Antarctica, which is currently going to cost her more than €60,000 to manage. Before that trip she will aim to find a sponsor to help her raise the funds required. Milesha, who hails from the southern Indian state of Kerel, said she has packed the Irish tricolour for the latest mountain in Papua New Guinea to mark a special occasion. 'I've lived in Ireland 11 years and I'm taking the Irish flag this time because I'm now an Irish citizen, since February. It's been a journey and I'm looking forward to raising it.' Readers like you are keeping these stories free for everyone... A mix of advertising and supporting contributions helps keep paywalls away from valuable information like this article. Over 5,000 readers like you have already stepped up and support us with a monthly payment or a once-off donation. Learn More Support The Journal
Al Jazeera
20-06-2025
- Politics
- Al Jazeera
Iran's dual nationals caught between Israeli bombs and family ties
Iranian-US dual nationals have taken long trips to leave Iran since the conflict began, but others have decided to stay. Tehran, Iran – Suitcases are rolling through Tehran, but this time, it's not for holidays or family celebrations. They are being packed in haste and out of fear – symbols of the growing anxiety gripping the Iranian capital's 10 million residents as they face Israeli missiles. While Iranians scramble to find shelter, dual Iranian-American nationals find themselves caught in the crossfire of war and geopolitical uncertainty. Amir, a 36-year-old Tesla engineer and dual national, travelled to Tehran from the United States just weeks before Israeli air strikes began hitting targets across Iran. He had been visiting family and spending quiet days with them on Mount Damavand, located roughly 60 kilometres northeast of the capital. His return flight to the US was already booked, but a few days before he was scheduled to travel, Israel launched its attacks. When the bombs started to fall, Amir found himself gripped by fear, not just of war, but of being drafted and becoming a casualty of politics beyond his control. 'I wasn't scared at first. Being with my family brought me peace,' said Amir, who preferred not to share his last name for security reasons. He recalled how he had actually been more worried about his family's safety during the 2022 Iran antigovernment protests, watching from afar in the US. 'Back then, I was constantly anxious, glued to the news, worrying about my family. But now, being in Tehran and Damavand, I could see that life was still going on,' he said. But he soon decided it was too risky to remain in Iran. A US Green Card holder, Amir dreaded the growing possibility of President Donald Trump reintroducing a travel ban on Iranians and feared it would include those with permanent residency, like himself. With a sense of urgency, Amir chose to leave. Advertisement Crossing borders, leaving loved ones Fearing for his life and his future, Amir began a long overland journey. On Monday, he left by overnight bus for the western Iranian city of Urmia, an 11-hour journey. From there, he continued by road to Van, in eastern Turkiye, which took another six hours. He then boarded a domestic flight to Ankara, from where he flew to the US on Thursday. Sign up for Al Jazeera Breaking News Alert Get real-time breaking news alerts and stay up-to-date with the most important headlines from around the globe. Subscribe Your subscription failed. Please try again. Please check your email to confirm your subscription By signing up, you agree to our Privacy Policy protected by reCAPTCHA For Amir, fleeing wasn't just a logistical challenge; it was emotionally traumatic. 'If it weren't for the fear of being conscripted and the possibility of a new Trump-era travel ban, I would have stayed close to my loved ones,' he said. 'It's harder in the US.' Behrouz, a 41-year-old postdoctoral researcher based in San Francisco, faced a similar choice. He had been visiting his hometown of Mashhad, in northeastern Iran, when it was struck by one of Israel's longest-range missile attacks. 'I tried to stay calm for the first two days,' he recalled. 'But then, I had to face the reality: this conflict is nothing like the past. At least for the coming months, the sky won't be clear or open.' Traditionally, Behrouz would end his trips to Iran with a walk through the courtyard of the Imam Reza Holy Shrine, picking up saffron and sweets for colleagues back in the US. But this time, he left in a rush. The journey was long: 10 hours by car to Tehran, another nine to Urmia, and then across the Razi border crossing into Turkiye. 'It took about 20 minutes to get through the checkpoint,' he said, but what followed was a gruelling 22-hour bus ride to Istanbul. Behrouz explained he had to leave because of his job. 'But my heart is still there with my family, and with the people,' he said, his voice breaking. 'We are against both Israel and the Iranian regime,' he added. 'We are millions of ordinary Iranians caught in the middle of decisions made by politicians who don't represent us.' Behrouz's words echo the quiet desperation of many others. Azerbaijani media reported that about 600 Iranian-American dual nationals had crossed out of northwestern Iran via the Astara border into southern Azerbaijan with support from the US embassy. Online, travel coordination flourished in Iranian-American Facebook groups. One user asked: 'My flight was scheduled for late June. Should I try to exit through Armenia or Turkiye?' Another advised: 'Bring extra fuel. Gas stations are limiting purchases to 10 litres per car.' Some even pooled resources to rent a van for the journey to the Turkish border. Advertisement For those managing to leave, the logistics are complex – but often less painful than the emotional burden. Staying behind – and getting cut off Not everyone is leaving. Afsaneh, a 43-year-old lifestyle blogger and mother who lives in northern California, had flown to Iran with her seven-year-old daughter before the war began. Despite US State Department warnings urging citizens to leave, she wrote on Instagram that she had no intention of returning – at least for now. 'This is where I want to be,' she wrote in a recent post. 'With my family, during this time.' Others have had no choice but to watch from afar as their loved ones live through the strikes. Maryam Mortazavi, a 38-year-old Iranian-Canadian living in Toronto, had sent her parents and sister on a summer trip to Iran just two weeks before the air strikes began. Ten days into their stay, bombs hit the northwestern city of Tabriz near their residence. 'I was on a blurry video call with them, hearing explosions and air defence systems,' Mortazavi said. Her family fled to nearby Urmia for safety. By Wednesday afternoon, the Iranian government had shut down internet access. Maryam lost all contact with them. 'I can't even get out of bed – I'm so worried,' she said, breaking down. 'I just hope they find a working VPN and reach me.' This piece was published in collaboration with Egab.
