“Although the temperature outside is now well below zero, I am lying in the snug and sweaty darkness of a seriously overheated Chinese train compartment. After about half an hour tossing and turning I have a bit of a moment and finally lose my self-control in a high-temperature-induced panic. I feel an urgent and desperate need for fresh air. I need to do something, anything, so I grab my tool kit, get out some pliers and begin to remove the bolts around the frame that obviously keeps the window closed. There are eight bolts, and I remove them one by one and put them each carefully on my table like I’m working on an unexploded bomb. My compartment door is locked, so as long as we don’t stop at a station I can continue my work unobserved by Li and Chen, my minders. The bolts are now all out, but the window still won’t open. I push, shove and try and slide it in all directions. Nothing happens. Taking a break, and sitting on my berth I scratch my head and wish that I were a qualified engineer. Why won’t the window open? I realise that I’m going to have to admit defeat to living in a sauna. But then in a horrible single moment of mechanical deduction, the reason it’s not opening finally dawns on me. This window is fixed shut and, unlike the windows in the corri­dor, has no opening part. What I have actually done is to unbolt the entire window and its frame from the carriage. At this moment there is nothing other than ice and grime holding the window onto the rattling and bumping carriage as we sway down the line towards Irkutsk.”

It would of course have been highly amusing to imagine me trying to explain to the Chinese officials why the window in my compartment was absent from the train in the heart of the Siberian winter. But the two viewpoints of fear and hilarity also made me think about the richness of adventure. When I first started out as a long range rail traveller I tried to plan everything so carefully. The smallest problem stood out as a personal crisis, and I was always worrying about something trivial. It is only over time and with some miles under my belt that I now see most problems as actually generally good things. Not only do they give me something interesting to write about, but they seem to make me a better traveller. So as I have raised my game as a rail adventurer, and now an author, I have actually learned to embrace the odd crisis. I’m also a bit more chilled out now too. By accepting that these things will happen and I will overcome them, I seem to become a more open minded, confident, and a more flexible person.

My first book is about my rediscovery of the joy of long distance train travel. After a longer gestation period than I had planned, it was finally published this week. Trans-Siberian Adventures is based on my first ever journey across Siberia – from Edinburgh to Shanghai.

My original blog has proved to be a useful journal, but the book has allowed me to take my writing to a new place – one that perhaps only two years ago I would not have imagined. I have been able to write about my experiences in much more detail and to provide what I feel is a more real insight into life on the rails. Blogging on the move has become a daily ritual of my travel, but like an artist, this is really just an initial sketch, rather than the full painting.

I feel I should point out that the photo at the top of this post might imply my impending custody in a Korean jail. I have to tell you that nothing could be further from the truth. I found Korean policemen to be the nicest law enforcement agency that I have ever encountered. This gives me a closing thought, one that I also mention in the book. It doesn’t matter if you don’t speak a word of the same
language; nearly all people in this world are innately kind and generous to
strangers. Don’t be put off travel by what you read in the newspapers.

I really hope you enjoy my book and that it might inspire you to give long range rail adventure a try. You can read more about Trans-Siberian Adventures on my book page. Please let me know what you think.

An early dinner today as the brilliant Mongolian restaurant carriage leaves us at 19.10 local time. I will miss everything about it other than possibly its temperature.

We have just arrived on the Mongolian side of the Chinese border. The soldiers are saluting the train as it arrives on the platform, heralding several hours of paperwork, searches and inspections. I have filled in the paperwork for both sides already, so hopefully I’m ahead of the game.

I have to tell you that the Mongolian border officers here seem to be almost exclusively female and some are very easy on the eye, even when dressed in full combat gear. Or maybe I have been on the train for too long! My passport and visa has just left the train for more detailed examination.

I have had the first customs inspection and once I had explained that the United Kingdom was in fact the same as Great Britain, and that made me British, they moved quickly on to the next compartment.

All okay and off we go two hours later, a short hop a cross “no mans land” to Eirlan on the Chinese side – music, lights, guards, impressive marching, and more paperwork.. The carriage is flooded with very down to business like Chinese officials admiring my Christmas lights, but trying no to be noticed doing so..

The soldiers on the platform are marching everywhere at the double, and its a pretty well oiled machine. Soothing music (“Greensleeves”) echoes around the place along with the sound of slamming train doors.

Then into the shed for a new set of wheels (narrower gauge) and four hours later we are back on our way through China bound next for Datong and Beijing tomorrow lunchtime.

When we stopped at Choyr I dashed up front (it’s still a long way) to do my trainspotter bit. There was some funky young Mongolian guy doing the same – dressed in a blue flying suit, brown leather flying boots, a peaked Mao hat, some Oakley shades and carrying a silver topped stick (see the picture below). He smiled and then proceeded to climb up the ladder onto the engine – he was the driver! I have to say he looks very happy in his work, but slightly too much like a Kamikaze pilot for my comfort.

Its cold here but so dry and sunny that it feels quite nice outside as long as you are well wrapped up. Not much time to explore, and I completely missed the statue to the first Mongolian astronaut behind the ticket hall. “Mr Blond” kept an eye on me as the driver did the equivalent of a pre flight check of the locomotives (there are two pulling together) – I’m assuming Mr Blond gets marked down in his appraisal if he leaves any passengers behind! Anyway, he’s a lovely chap – really kind to us foreigners.

I took a Mongolian breakfast with Paul (from Teeside) who has rum news from Carriage 6. Last night the military police took Robert, his Mongolian cabin mate, off the train at the border. Situation now unknown. Whilst I was sipping a glass of Merlot being saluted at, Paul was imagining himself starring in an episode of the next series of “Banged Up Abroad”. The story is that Robert had been butchering his home cooked meals on board with quite a big bayonet or Rambo type knife which he didn’t declare in his paperwork. When the border security found it in a search they brought in the military (serious guys with guns and an attack dog) to remove him. I’m shocked by this, and needless to say Paul was pretty worried in case he became implicated. I don’t want to make light of this unfortunate situation, but Paul did mention that he had Robert’s Facebook details. Let’s hope they give people access to Facebook in the Mongolian penal system, as this guy is now MIA.

On a much lighter note, I have scored a bottle of Russian “Champanska” from the Mongolian restaurant – like last year, I shall drink it as we change wheels tonight and enter China. At 48 Yuan a bottle it’s something of a bargain – less than £5!

I’m sat in the restaurant right now enjoying an icy “Golden Gobi” whilst they cook my dumpling soup – a dish I have been looking forward to since I started booking this trip. Its Sunday today, so this is my equivalent of a roast lunch.

Its picture postcard stuff outside now – the sun is high in the cloudless sky, the windows are iced up on the outside as we pass endless telegraph poles and the occasional farmer on a motorbike chasing his camels. This is the view that Basil Fawlty tells Mrs Richards about – with “herds of wilderbeast sweeping majestically across the plain”..

Not much more to add other than I forgot to eat my ever expanding pot porridge for breakfast. It sits on my table ready to explode like a “Bouncing Betty” from the Vietnam War – I shall have to exercise caution later on. I might be safer on the bottom bunk tonight.

Actually not much to see on the platform, but I’m guessing that any sane Mongolian would conduct their retail activities indoors. I can see coloured disco lights coming from outside the station, and also a door signed as “VIP” round the side. This is clearly the Mongolian equivalent of Kings Cross.

A Mongolian woman has joined us in Carriage 9 – helped aboard by three men to carry all her stuff. Thinking about it, I would expect most Mongolians to use the native first and second class carriages now joined to us further up the train. Maybe she is actually Chinese? I will attempt to find out later.

Our new locomotives have just tooted as they pass by on the next track – a pair of colourful diesels to power us across the Gobi today. I said good morning to “Mr Blond”, who has the comforting habit of repeating what you have just said. Our one directional conversation this morning focused on the English obsession with the weather, and he agrees with me that it is “very cold” outside. Meanwhile “Mr Green” stands in the doorway assessing people as potential first class material. He won’t let anyone up the steps without a close inspection of their tickets first.

Only three stops today, the final one being the Chinese border in the early evening. Jungle training continues here on board the train as “Mr Green” shovels fresh coal into our fire. He has a standby electric heater that he switches on in the stations – the fire tends to fill the carriage with smoke unless it is moving forwards.

As we leave Ulaanbaatar I can see tiny lights in the distance as the train snakes round encampments of walled yurts (I think a “Yurt” is actually the wrong name – sorry, can’t recall the right one). The windows are filthy and this is hampering my ability to take any decent pictures in low light, so apologies for anything that looks a bit ropey.

A small science lab experiment going on here in my compartment – my Russian pot porridge is providing me with an indication of barometric pressure – as it has come from Moscow unopened itis now ready to burst – so we must be at a much higher altitude now (or just better weather and higher pressure). I’m going to eat it for my breakfast as I fear I will otherwise become victim to a oat and strawberry infused landmine!

I have asked “Mr Blond” when the samovar will be working and he says “later”. I’m not holding my breath, as this isn’t an indication of urgency in my experience so far.

Greetings from Mongolia! I’ve just crossed the frontier from the Russian Federation and am now sat quietly in the darkness on the Mongolian border. It’s all very Cold War again – soldiers standing to attention on the platform and immigration officers carrying briefcases ready to board and examine everyone that they find on train 004. Guard dogs roam freely on the platform.

I think my paperwork is in order, but judging by the degree of close inspection my visa was given before being taken away, I’m not 100% sure. The officer who took it from me actually saluted me in my compartment – as I’m not sure on Mongolian army etiquette I didn’t return the salute, as I wasn’t wearing headgear – I hope that’s the right drill out here. I will flatter myself and assume that she knew she must have been dealing with a VIP passenger, as he had a whole First Class compartment just to himself.

I have the Christmas decorations up in my compartment, and hope they help break the ice with the officials – this is hardly the normal behavior of a smuggler or an illegal immigrant surely?

It took about two hours to get out of Russia, and about another two here to get into Mongolia, so it’s hardly fast track, but at least I can sit in my own compartment sipping a glass of Merlot reading my book (“A Captain’s Duty” by Richard Phillips). There are a gaggle of officials walking up and down as well as some “not so officials”, including a couple of women who are black market currency traders, offering local Torag at a rate I didn’t get to hear about.

I’m awaiting the arrival of the Customs people, who I’m sure will be interested in my taste in Spanish wine (the best stuff I could find on offer in an otherwise dull Moscow supermarket).

No restaurant carriage tonight, so I have already dined alone on smoked sausage, crackers and chicken liver pate. I couldn’t face the Russian instant noodles after all – maybe I will on the Chinese border tomorrow night..

The colossal crashing bang and lurching of our carriage suggests that the Mongolian part of the train has arrived and has just been attached. This is good news, as it means that tomorrow there is the prospect of beef dumplings for lunch! Yumsk.

Just as I write this a very seriously dressed lady soldier in full combats and boots has been poking her flashlight around my compartment – that’s the third search of the train on this border crossing. She has left looking satisfied, so I hope that’s okay. Was I marked out for an extra search?

I just need my passport to be returned now, and as the train is now moving (but backwards) I’m hoping this standard Mongolian border procedure..

Greetings from Mongolia!

It’s another night on the border, this time we leave Mongolia and enter China. We have covered 1118 km in the last 24 hours. As I write this I’m sat in my compartment in the silence and semi darkness at Dzamyn Ude waiting for customs and immigration clearance. On the plus side, I’m drinking Russian champagne whilst I wait. More of this later!

It’s been another great day and I’m sad to be leaving Mongolia so soon. I had planned to get off for a quick look around Ulan Baatar this morning (at 06.30) but instead I slept. In fact I slept through several stops, not rising until our brief stop at Choyr around midday. This surprised even me, as I had been getting up at first light each morning. I think I slept really well – my body must have really needed some extra time to recharge..

I have been reflecting today on the fact that I have gone a bit native in the last couple of days. Those of you who know me will often joke how I usually complain about hotel rooms and how I like everything to be “just so”. Well here I find myself not really caring about such trivial things anymore and just living in the moment of this Trans-Siberian adventure. Some signs of my nativeness (the ones I have noticed!) include:

• Not caring that my new Mongolian next door neighbours have left their vegetable scrapings in my bathroom sink this morning.
• Drinking (cooled) water from the train samovar and actually quite liking how it tastes, despite knowing where its been and having access to bottled mineral water.
• Communicating about all things in international sign language, now at an advanced level. I can’t stop myself ordering anything now without pointing at it and holding up the number of fingers to indicate how many I want and miming the temperature I expect it to be.
• No longer caring about the state of the toilets, as long as they are not frozen.

Back to what’s been going on today – there have been some big changes overnight while I have been sleeping. The carriage that was all my own I now share which about six other passengers, all what I imagine to be “posh” Mongolians. The train has filled up a lot at Ulan Baatar. There have also been quite a few new carriages added and a pair of diesel locomotives up front. Most significantly though, the much heralded arrival of the Mongolian restaurant car has taken place. Just to try and catch me out they have placed it in the middle of the train, only about two carriages (or ten doors) away. I now turn right, rather than left, from my compartment.

So after a breath of chilly air from the Gobi desert at Choyr, I took lunch with Stephan and another new train 004 recruit, Ceyda, a Turkish/American lady who got on the train yesterday at Irkustk.

A point in passing. She had been on the Russian Trans-Sib train, the “Rossiya”, and said it was much cleaner and more friendly “down the back” than on this train. Better apparently to travel in Russian third class than in Chinese second class. It’s not a comparison of first class though, where I am very much enjoying this train.

The new restaurant is very different to our Russian one. As you can see from the picture below, the Mongolian railway people have really made an effort to sell tourism in their country. It must be one of the “top ten” train restaurant cars in the world, even just for its originality. It’s heated to about 35 C, and the lady who runs it speaks some English.

You can pay in virtually any currency (no Rouble coins though) which is just as well as I have no Toureg, the (restricted) local money. I tried the “Travellers Beef” which was fine, but dumpling soup was actually the winner. I was going to have it for dinner but they had sold out of almost everything by the time I arrived.

I now have to travel through a couple of carriages of Mongolian First Class on my way to the restaurant. They look plush and are heated to a temperature like you would find in a provincial hotel sauna. They have a slightly weird smell, but then again so does my carriage – and so do I after nearly a week living on this train. The worst thing about them is they have a really tricky “bridge” arrangement as you cross between carriages. This freaked me out a bit at first as its harder than the Russian or Chinese cars and needs an extra step of grabbing a (low) door handle and stepping over “the bridge”.. There is also a large sign on the carriage door prohibiting the letting off of fireworks inside your compartment, so that’s nice and clear and good to know next time I’m thinking of packing some bangers on my future travels in Mongolia.

I bumped into Guard B in carriage 11. He smiled and amazingly, handed me his official key, so he didn’t need to follow me back to carriage 9 (to let me in). It was quite an honour to be trusted with “the” real Chinese Railway key. I would be ashamed if he knew that I don’t need it though, having my own high security British Gas meter cupboard key.

Later this afternoon we stopped at an armpit of a place called Saynshand. We were about 20 minutes late getting in and the train left early. For the first time I had to perform my “emergency alightment drill”, onto a Mongolian car about 100 metres away from my own. I wasn’t going to risk being left in Saynshand at any cost, so I dived up the unmanned steps and returned back inside the train. The stops in Mongolia are faster than in Siberia as we are not taking on any more coal, instead using a stockpile built up as we crossed Russia.

As the sun started to set over the plains of the Gobi desert I was reminded of the episode of “Fawlty Towers” where Mrs Richards complains of the view from her Torquay hotel bedroom window. Basil Fawlty would be in his element here as I can see herds of yak and horses sweeping majestically across the plain as the sun dips behind the distant hills. No hanging gardens of Babylon, but a great view nonetheless.

Sadly this leg comes to an end tomorrow at 14.04 local time, when we arrive in Beijing. I will post more on the last bit of this part of the journey, as I know the scenery is good and I also have a farewell brunch with some of the travellers in our soon to be added Chinese restaurant car, which rumour has it, is rather good.

I should mention before I forget that we are going to change the wheels on the train tonight. For me this is the second time, having done this in Belarus coming in to Russia what seems like ages ago. China has the same train gauge as Western Europe, so its a repeat of lifting every carriage separately and popping some new wheels on.

Now back to my Russian “champagne” which I found out about in the restaurant car, price USD 16. I could not get this in our previous restaurant, so it was a pleasant surprise. I have a rather neat trick which is putting the bottle in a box (also containing a couple of beers) and then wedging my “mini bar” in “no mans land”, between us and the next carriage. With the outside temperature the way it is it takes only moments to come down to 3 C. The only problem is with all these border checks I have to be careful when to grab it back. I bumped into the Mongolian customs man carrying it out my compartment earlier and I think he thought that I was a probable alcohol smuggler! Guard A looked very worried for a few moments, but he laughed it off.

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