Crossing the border from Georgia to Azerbaijan was already a long-winded undertaking, which was scheduled to involve:

1. Cycling to the Georgian side of the border (to the north-east of Lagodheki)
2. Returning from the border to Tbilisi
3. Flying from Tbilisi to Baku
4. Taking the overnight train from Baku to Balakan
5. Cyling the 16 kilometres from Balakan to the border
6. Setting off from the Azerbaijan side of the border on the ride down to Baku as though steps 1-5 above had never happened!

Step 4 – the overnight train from Baku to Balakan – was a critical part of the logistics, but not without some marginal uncertainty. Although the Azerbaijan Railways website explains fairly clearly that trains on their networks will carry up to two freestanding bicycles (and indeed the owner of a very good local bike shop told me that it’s actually mandated for them to do so), my varied experiences of taking bikes on trains over the years made me somewhat apprehensive. In some countries, it’s a cultural and logistical doddle; in others, it’s treated on a par with trying to board a train with a tiger or a bomb. The response from the employee at the information desk at Baku railway station to my query during the afternoon about my plan to take a bike on the train to Balakan (he was “hopeful” everything would be fine) didn’t do much to lessen my apprehension.

I arrived at Baku railway station about an hour before my train’s scheduled departure time of ten to midnight last night to try to ensure I had ample time to resolve any issues. But, with the help of a translator drafted in over one of the station staff’s mobiles, I was made aware pretty quickly and abruptly of the “impossibility” of taking my bike on the train. The mood was amiable, but my attempts to find a solution proved fruitless. Even completely deconstructing my bike would, I was told, serve no purpose.

With the phalanx of railway staff and police whose nightly job it is to usher people on to the sleeper train from the Azerbaijani capital to the north-west town of Balakan (eight and a half hours away), eye contact became a scarcer and scarcer thing – other than with a very young member of the train dispatch crew who took it upon himself to be something of a guardian angel. He explained to me that he was hoping to improve his English (which was already strikingly good!), and he calmly advised me how to go about getting a refund on my now-unused ticket and how to get information about rescheduling my journey (if I could find a solution for my outcast bicycle).

I secured the refund (less an immodest admin fee), but, at midnight on a Monday night in Baku, I was thrown a challenge – with no bed for the night and my whole itinerary for the week obliterated. I’d already found the Easter weekend very isolating (it’s my favourite time of year back home, and I’d missed my family and friends hugely). Standing outside the station, I felt alone and at a very low ebb.

The only viable response to this latest blow has been to get on the front foot and try to find solutions to the challenges posed. After what cannot be recognised as a night’s sleep (albeit in the last available bed back at the hotel in which I’d spent my first night in Baku), I spent the morning in Baku sourcing cardboard boxes, and using the hotel lobby to construct some makshift, cut-down containers that now hold the various pieces of my once-again deconstructed bike. I’m giving the train another go tonight, and hope the dimensions of my improvised boxes will satisfy the railway authorities on my return to their evaluation this evening. They’re the best I can offer given the rigid dimensions of my bike’s frame, and they comply with the guidance given to me by the very helpful lady who sold me the replacement ticket.

I’ve rescheduled the hotels on the route back down to Baku, and hope to lose just a single day from the schedule…which would still allow me to catch the flight I’ve booked for 28 April across the Caspian Sea to Kazakhstan. If I’m barred from boarding the train again tonight, it seems possible that I could get a car to take me the 600 kilometres from Baku up to the border…but some of the logistics around that potential solution are not ideal.