When I think about the essence of the challenge of this adventure, my mind doesn’t go just to the physicality of turning the pedals on my bike. It’s a given that riding a fully loaded bicycle thousands of miles across forbidding terrain is going to be demanding; but often it’s what goes on beyond the pure discipline of cycling that characterises how deep I need to dig to succeed.

To date, this adventure has brought its fair share of extrinsic snags: the closure of the mountain pass in Georgia and the three-day detour it enforced, the refusal of the Azerbaijan Railway authorities to allow me onto the sleeper train from Baku to Balakan with my fully assembled bike, and Uzbekistan’s prolonged closure of its road border crossing from Kazakhstan to name just three fairly significant ones!

Yesterday, I dealt with another potential snag – an infection that I’d managed to pick up (I suppose while wild camping) in the desert. I’ll spare you the precise details, but I was starting to experience some quite alarming symptoms, and while dealing with pain holds little fear in itself, the possible implications of leaving the issue untreated had become very much a source of worry! A visit to the local hospital in Beyneu yielded a prescription of antibiotics and a much happier state of mind!

In a more jovial episode earlier in the day, there had been a small hiccup to my pre-departure logistics in Beyneu when I became locked in a supermarket! I was perusing the aisles for supplies (with a distinct lack of urgency given my abundance of available time in the town) when it became clear that the shop had actually shut! All of the staff had relocated to the stock room, from where the triumphant sound of their singing emanated loudly and joyously. Perhaps it had been a particularly good morning for takings? When they emerged, they did so with plates piled high with noodles for a shared lunch. I was able to pay for my shopping, but the door to the street outside had been locked, and the lock became jammed for some time when the staff tried to release me!

Given the closure (by road) of the Kazakhstan/Uzbekistan border, a major imperative for the continued progress of my adventure has been to catch the train across the border, and specifically to be able to do so with my bike. We’re necessarily an inseparable pair, and the insinuation at the Beyneu railway station ticket office that conveyance of the bike would be at the guard’s discretion had created a frisson for me about the events that would unfold last night as boarding of the train began (flashbacks to corresponding events at Baku last month being still quite haunting).

In reality, the process could not have gone more smoothly. A soldier, who it turned out would oversee the Kazakh half of the night’s passport checks, took me under his wing, liaised with the guard about the best place for my bike to be billeted, and helped me haul it and its cargo up the industrial metal steps to the carriage. Once inside, the guard guided me to a space at the near end of the adjacent carriage, with the bike needing to be upended and rested against some large and full grey (perhaps postal) sacks. My relief was palpable.

The train pulled out of Beyneu station at four minutes past midnight, cementing my gratitude to the town for the three days in which it provided everything I needed to keep my adventure on course, and carrying onwards my dreams into Uzbekistan.

The Uzbek half of the night’s officialdom overran the allotted time for the train to stand idle by about half an hour at Karakalpakia, with departure being delayed until about 4.30am. As well as doing passport checks, authorities carried out a sweeping search of every nook, cranny and bag on the train, and were satisfied by the explanations I gave them for my fairly large trove of vitamins and supplements!

The rituals of the train are reminiscent of the journey I took with my friend Chris on the Trans-Siberian railway just after the fall of communism in 1992. Although I’m only on board for a relatively short part of its journey (which actually began in Volgograd, Russia, the night before last and will continue until tomorrow night, when it arrives in Tashkent, the Uzbek capital), I feel privileged to be getting a renewed taste of long-distance train travel in the former Soviet Union. The train is packed (a consequence partly, I assume, of the road crossing being closed). There’s a regular flow of passengers making excursions to the samovar stationed at the end of the carriage to make their tea or cook their noodles, and a procession of vendors passing constantly through the train – offering everything from water and food (including some huge and pungent smoked fish) to SIM cards, clothing, children’s toys, beauty products, and a generous currency-exchange service, which I’ve availed myself of!

The train is scheduled to arrive in Nukus in about 45 minutes, and the city will be the launchpad for the next phase of this adventure – my ride across the most famous part of the Uzbekistan Silk Road.