Reflecting our remoteness, there are few stops today – Amazar at 05.55 for 18 minutes, Magdagachi at 14.53 for just 15 minutes, and Belogorsk at 21.37 for 30 minutes. Time to read a book and watch the world go by.
But then it starts to come back to me. Last night, after a few glasses of quite reasonable red wine from Azerbaijan I had made a communication breakthrough with the woman who runs the restaurant. After several days living on fried eggs and stale bread rolls, I discover that caviar and salmon might be on offer for breakfast. Or was this all actually just a twisted dream sent to my brain by my digestive system?

I shuffle purposefully down the train towards the restaurant carriage, hoping that I have worked out the right time zone for breakfast. I calculate that local time is six hours ahead of Moscow time. I’m greeted by a tired looking chef, hopefully a sign of overnight fish trading on icy station platforms. The deal has apparently taken place at a place called Skovorodin. The curtains are drawn, almost like this is a well-guarded secret. Two police officers hang around for some time talking to passing passengers, but I have no idea what is being said. Are they guarding the fish?

The woman who takes my order is heavily made up and wearing a dress that might have been used in a mid 1970’s James Bond film. Apparently the caviar comes with pancakes and garlic butter, but the salmon has already gone. The pancakes taste simply heavenly, and cost me just 290 Rubles, or about £3. As I’m finishing breakfast the lady selling ice cream passes through the carriage. In her time zone it might be the perfect time for such a treat, but it’s not on my breakfast agenda.

When get back to my compartment I notice that Larissa, the carriage “provodnitsa”, has put all her gear on – a sure sign that we will shortly be stopping. She always dresses like we will be walking on the surface of the moon before leaving the train, and today the temperature on the platform doesn’t disappoint. I gingerly walk down the platform taking short snorts of frozen air whilst thinking about where else in the world you could experience such great food in an otherwise cold and inhospitable place.

Priority number one the following morning (after a reasonable breakfast) was to find out about the plans of my ship, the MV Eastern Dream. This was very much in the tradition of Michael Palin and his “Round the World in 80 Days” programme made by the BBC. My intel from Moscow was correct and there she was in the harbour, due to sail a day early – that afternoon at 17.00 local time. At the shipping office my paperwork seemed to all be in order, with just the local port tax to pay.

So just a few hours to get a perspective on the city – closed not just to Westererners, but to Russians as well, until 1992. I like the place, but can’t put my finger on quite why. It strikes me as a Russian version of San Francisco or Istanbul, with a big bridge, lots of hills and a cold sea. It’s very proudly not Moscow or St Petersburg.

Before heading to the port I had the chance to visit C-56, a 1942 WW2 (“Great Patriotic War”) submarine. It was interesting to compare it with British boats of the same age. Natalia, my local interpretor, demonstrates torpedo tube loading drills – she is very proficient, and I suspect this is a place she must visit quite a lot.

The boat has no visible class or rank segregation on board. It’s the captain in his cabin and everyone else together here. No individual mess rooms for officers, artificers, petty officers and sailors like in the Royal Navy.

The museum and war memorial is now in the shadows of the modern Russian Pacific Fleet, dark grey destroyers bristling with guided missiles. All for my safety and security I’m sure!

Perhaps more of a concern to me was the state of the sea. From my hotel bedroom window the previous night I could see that it is in fact…totally frozen. I’m assured by Natalia that an ice breaker will not be required, as the main channel is navigable and it is just the bay that is frozen. It’s covered with people fishing through the ice, sometimes with their cars..

Taegeun, my South Korean friend from train 002, has also managed to get a ticket on the Eastern Dream, and I’m pleased to see him again down at the port. In the immigration queue he apologises to me and explains that as a mark of respect for the older Korean passengers, we should let them all go in front of us. I felt a bit embarrassed as it was such a nice gesture, but not something I’m ever likely to witness back in a boarding queue at Heathrow T3.

A few more stamps in my now overfull passport, a quick sniffer dog search and I have left the Russian Federation. Goodbye Mother Russia!

It’s at this moment that I get the map out and realise the progress of my journey. From Moscow to here is 9289 km. I then add the 3962 km from Edinburgh to Moscow, so 13250 km so far. In longitude this is 135 degrees round the world, taking me to GMT +10. That is the same time zone as Sydney, Australia.

I didn’t make it onto the platform for Khabarovsk, so I don’t know why it took twice as long normal to do what needs to be done. I wondered if they might have added extra carriages for the 12 hour journey to Vladivostok, but I don’t think they have. It’s snowing this morning, perhaps a sign that it’s warmer and wetter now that we are close to the Sea of Japan. Taegeun tells me it’s -6 C according to his carriage thermometer.

I made it onto the platform at Vyazemskaya later in the morning, where we took on coal for the emergency heating system. The platform was buzzing with traders absent from many of stations in Siberia. The main commodities appear to be fish, caviar, cakes, honey and some sort of hootch sold in big plastic bottles. At first the traders set up shop outside my (first class) carriage, but it only took them a moment to realise their mistake and they headed back to the plaskart carriages where trade was brisk despite the train being only about one third full now.

As I write this blog I am looking across into China. The fence is only 100m from the train at the moment. The railway skirts this border most of the way down to its destination this evening. The fence is about 6 feet high and made of barbed wire with extra barbed wire on top. It doesn’t look that substantial, so either I’m wrong about this being the border, or maybe it’s a zone in front of the border itself.

I scored some more caviar and pancakes for my lunch today. I shall miss the atmosphere of the restaurant. I have taken to always saying “hello” to Chef, and he now smiles from time to time. I still don’t know what the woman in the short skirts exactly does, but it must be good for sales. If you saw this place you might choose not to eat here, but I have experienced no problems. Probably best not to actually look in the kitchen itself though!

I have noticed that there are a several policemen onboard the train wandering up and down with batons and handcuffs today. As I have not seen these chaps before, my theory is that the police get on and off the train in each region, like a kind of local patrol. At the stops today there have been groups of police on the platform with dogs too. Maybe extra security is now needed to protect our supply of caviar?

At our final stop before Vladivostok, a place called Ussuriysk, I have a minor panic attack when I discover Larissa has raised the steps and appears to be shutting our door – all the other doors are closed and the locomotive blasts it’s horn. It turns out to be a cruel but accidental trick, as she is just cleaning the snow off the steps. The two remaining Russians laugh at me, and we joke about it.

It’s going to be a strange experience leaving the train tonight. I have effectively been living in a space the size of a double bed (cubed) for over a week now. It’s much smaller than a prison cell, although perhaps better appointed. I seem to have managed to unpack my belongings into every nook and cranny of it in such a way that it feels like my home. Tonight I will decompress into a hotel bedroom with its own bathroom, hot running water, and hopefully some wi-fi. I wish I had longer in Vladivostok, but the ship only sails once a week, and by my calculations it sails tomorrow afternoon.

Eating in the restaurant remains a little unpredictable. There can be random shortages of key foods, so you need to work out how best to play it. No great drama with my chicken dinner, other than a small fire that set off the alarm when Chef tries to make me some fried potatoes (which turn out like horrible oily burned crisps). Repeat – unpredictable.. The quiet word in the corridor is that pancakes with caviar or salmon will be possible after 11.00 am local time tomorrow. I have expressed an interest, as I’m quite excited about that.

After some lengthy questioning (a key skill is to be able to ask the same question in different ways, several times) I have now also discovered that train 002 happens to have a small parcel of red wine from Azerbaijan onboard. It has a unique flavour – very smooth, not so much alcohol (10%) and a deep dark earthy fruit flavour. It’s almost like amber or even incense on the finish.. Sorry I can’t describe it better, but I recommend you try it if you get the chance!

I have also laid down a bottle of cheap Spanish medium sweet wine in my private carriage “cellar”. I’m hoping it might be a good food match for the Christmas pudding that I have here. That is of course, if I can get it cooked..

I wake the following morning to a new landscape. We are now back in tree country with massive forests as far as the eye can see. I suspect that yesterday we climbed onto a plateau and have now descended again. The young son of the restaurant manager declares to me that it’s a “beautiful forest”. It’s probably just as well he likes forests as he lives in Krasnoyarsk, a place that defines the meaning of the expression of being “in the middle of nowhere”.
Today is a day of no real daytime stops – Amazar at 05.55 for 18 minutes, Magdagachi at 14.53 for just 15 minutes, and Belogorsk at 21.37 for 30 minutes. Time to read a book and watch the world go by.

I arrive at the restaurant carriage at the appointed time to enquire about the caviar situation. The deal has apparently taken place overnight at Skovorodin. The curtains are still drawn like its a well guarded secret. The woman in the short skirt has a dress on from a 1970’s Bond film. Apparently its “game on” for the pancakes. They taste simply heavenly. Price – 290 Roubles or £2.90.. Just as I’m finishing breakfast the ice cream lady from Russian Railways passes through – in her time zone it might be the perfect time for one, but it’s not on my breakfast agenda.

When I return to my home (carriage no 7) I see that Larissa is up, but not on duty yet. She is doing some knitting whilst watching a Russian soap opera on her laptop. My Trans-Siberian days have a certain rhythm in the morning and the evening, but with no stops sometimes a hole in the afternoon of part boredom and part loneliness. That is when I like to write this blog and make plans. Isolation allows clear thought, but it can at moments be a bit overwhelming.

I try to make the most of our only real daylight stop today at Magdagachi. Larissa isn’t on duty so I hang out at the end of the train with the plaskart people, mainly heavy smokers. Here is a view of the train that I don’t recommend unless you can see plenty of people on the platform!

The day finishes in Belogorsk. After being cooped up, half an hour to trade in black market cigarettes, admire the statue of Lenin and talk about the weather. On this point my wine cellar is as close to freezing as I dare let it go (-21 C) so I have repatriated it to carriage temperature. My Kalashnikov can stay out there though!

The Ukrainan guys leave the train here. They have been very friendly and I have no idea how their interactions have been with Russians on the journey.

I’m reminded of a couple of important Siberian safety and survival tips this evening. Firstly, always be careful when walking across the railway lines, as another train might stop in front of yours. If it is a kilometre long goods train you will have no way back and be forever stranded in freezing Siberia. Secondly, when you wash your hands and there are no paper towels left, do not on any account travel between carriages, as you will leave your skin stuck to the metal surfaces of the handles. I hope that helps!

It’s my final night on board the train. This time in 24 hours I shall hopefully reach Vladivostok – hopefully in time to make the connection for the next leg of my trip by ship to South Korea. Good night!

No passengers are getting on or off here, so it’s just me on the tiny platform together with the man who I think is the train manager, the police and the KGB officers. Of course the KGB are not KGB, but having seen “Spies Like Us” on my iPad last night, it’s just my overactive imagination. Or is it? They don’t seem to show much of an interest in me – they must be used to tourists, even though we are now in a closed part of the old Soviet Union. To remind me of this we pass an air force base shortly after, where I count about a dozen MIG 29’s painted in grey and egg blue camouflage parked up outside some bomb proof concrete hangars. They are dwarfed by one of those enormous Soviet Ilyushin transport planes.

(In passing, in case you are wondering, the sign in the photo above is a kilometre marker – there is one every km from Moscow).

On the subject of special forces, the cabin next to mine is now occupied by an officer who wears distinctive blue and grey disruptive pattern combat gear. I have no idea who he is but suspect he does something quite hard.

The train has been gradually climbing for several hours, weaving across a river plain since we passed Ulan Ude in the middle of the night. That is the station where the Trans-Mongolian train splits off and heads for Ulan Batar. Our route is now keeping east and skirting the Mongolian and Chinese borders before we finally turn south for Vladivostok. We continue to slowly climb and the climate is getting drier and more desertified. I wasn’t expecting this at all.

By lunchtime we are in a different climate and altitude altogether. The trees are gone and a frozen haze hangs over enormous ice fields. The locals park their cars on them and fish through holes. Our approach to a city called Chita is signalled well in advance by the plume of steam from the towers of a gargantuan power station.

In train news I have noticed that Larissa works her day shift on Moscow time. Thus her welcomed daily hoovering and cleaning will probably be after sunset tonight. This explains why the lady with ice cream comes later every day, as opposed to the restaurant people who now run their operation on GMT +9!

I have worked out the composition of the train carriages in case it is any help to you. Starting from the rear of the train, two carriages of “plaskart” (open dorm style), then a a single first class carriage (my home), then a “kupe” carriage used by the train staff (four berth), then the restaurant car, and in front of this three or four more “kupe” before you reach the locked service wagons, of which there are two before the locomotive. I think that’s ten carriages in all. It strikes me that it must be easiest to get a ticket in “kupe”, and hardest in first class, which has been pretty much full the whole way. I have a suspicion that the kupe carriage next to mine is either empty or for crew use.

I think that’s all for today. I’m off to the restaurant carriage to get the train gossip and to see what’s going on!

It’s properly cold now. As you breathe the air you feel it drying out your windpipe and chilling any unwrapped extremities pretty fast. I haven’t seen a thermometer this evening, but will keep an eye out. Last year I encountered – 38 C here, but it’s nothing like that tonight, maybe – 20 C.

I had a dish for dinner in the restaurant that was loosely based on a dead cow – probably for the last time, as it does not really taste of anything other than the tomato sauce that I disguise it in. It is the most expensive dish on the entire menu at 550 Roubles (£5.50). I was watching “Marooned” with Ed Stafford on my iPad last night. He eats raw bugs and critters for a living, but I don’t know what he would make of this beef dish.

Apart from that minor niggle, the restaurant is a great place to meet people and get hopelessly lost in the language barrier. The restaurant manger now also has a rather glamorous assistant who speaks not a word of English and wears heavy makeup and a skirt far to short for her age. The spirt of glasnost lives on here as I got treated to an unexpected complimentary starter tonight of Russian sausage and a cheese of unknown origin.

In other train news, a slightly hung over Taeguen having got shot of the soldiers, now has some Ukrainian cabin mates who continually ply him with vodka and food. It’s rather amusing to see how polite and nice he is about it, but secretly I know that he longs for a different compartment. I met them on the platform in the evening, where many photographs were exchanged and offers made about all sorts of entertainment back at their place later on. I think they have kind hearts, but probably enlarged livers.

The Germans who moved in next door are off to Lake Baikal tonight (Slyudyanka station), so who knows will be next door in the morning. Of course they spoke perfect English, as I should have guessed, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be social with them. Happily though I managed not to mention John Cleese, Fawlty Towers, or my recent trip to Poland.

Larissa has managed to get the second toilet up and running again. I didn’t want to worry you, but it’s compressed air system has been misfiring and it had become prone to blockages and occasional backfires. You know when this has happened as a noise like a Doodlebug engine reverberates down the corridor. Fingers crossed it’s now okay.

In passing, I should perhaps mention that our toilets are kept absolutely immaculately in this carriage. The only frustration are the third class passengers who nip in to use them. It’s all about wear and tear on the Trans-Siberian. In “plaskart” you have over 70 people sharing two bathrooms. In “kupe” it’s 36 and in First Class it’s just 18, or 9 people per bathroom if every compartment is full. It’s the same type of bathroom, but more available and cleaner with much lighter use..

I’m going to retire with a movie and glass or two of Spanish white wine shortly. The grape variety is “Airen” – I have never heard of this, but will look it up when I get home. Having a secure cooled wine cellar at the end of the carriage is an unexpected bonus. I don’t think the other passengers know anything about it, or have any wine to put in it even if they did.

I have discovered today that the crew accommodation has a microwave oven. This would not normally be of interest, but I now have a Christmas pudding here (a gift from the Edinburgh Explorers Club) and I’m wondering if we can do a deal tomorrow…

As for the ice cold beer in Irkutsk, it was a Kozel. Sadly there was no condensation on the glass a la John Mills, but it was still much enjoyed. Most of the locals don’t drink their beer out of a glass, so this must mark me out as either a tourist or a first class passenger.

It’s been quite a nice day, and I can see mountains to the due south of us (a quick look at my trusty National Geographic map) – it looks like the Sayan range that separate Russia from the western edge of Mongolia.

The landscape is endless and we speed past each new forest and valley to the sounds of some Ry Cooder from inside my compartment. The trees look amazing with frozen ice on their branches and the low winter sun shining through.

Our stop at Zima is at close to sunset (11.49 AM Moscow time!) and lasts for 30 minutes. Being a part time train anorak I wanted to get a photo of the engine, but the problem is that they detach it faster than I can get up there sometimes. So for this stop I set off early and went up inside the train as far forward as I could. In front of carriage no 2 is locked, so I can only assume carriage no 1 must contain either a nuclear missile or North Korean passengers.

On the platform for 30 minutes and it’s getting colder. Maybe -15 C and likely to be dropping fast as the sun goes down. There is not much retail therapy to be had here unless you fancy some black market cigarettes. It’s a busy station and whilst we were waiting a freight train thunders by on the same platform that must have been getting on for a kilometre long.

I’m not really a vodka drinker, but this is the Trans-Sib. So I purchased an official RVD (Russian Railways) bottle supplied with a special brown paper bag. It cost me 750 Rubles for a half litre which is very pricey by Russian standards. I thought that there might be an under the counter supply, but apparently not. The brand is Kalashnikov! As someone who has played a lot of marketing games, I love brand extensions. I was trying to think of a comparable one. The best that I could come up with was English Electric. In the 1950’s they manufactured both the housewife’s favourite washing machine as well as the brilliant nuclear capable and supersonic “Lightning” interceptor fighter.

I have stowed my Kalashnikov together with my Pinot Grigio in the unheated secret locker at the end of the carriage. Whenever I ask now Larissa just gives me her key. This reminds me to check on the wine after the next stop in case it’s now too cold out there. Of course the vodka won’t freeze, but I guess the wine could.. There is an outside thermometer in the Provodnitsa’s day cabin and I don’t like the way it focuses on the negative part of the temperature spectrum!

A short but wintery stop in Novosibirsk, the regional capital city of Siberia. We have had a small regiment of soldiers on the train, but it looks like they have all just got off. Kim (who’s real first name I discover is Taegeun), says the soldiers in his carriage were pretty rude and one from his compartment has been thrown off the train early. I don’t think he means this literally, but sometimes the language barrier gets in the way. Alex had an army officer next door, apparently he was civilised, but not very friendly. Anyway the soldiers have gone home, and their places are quickly filled by new passengers. I think we now have a four ball of German traveller types in this carriage. I only hope that I can stop myself doing some “Fawlty Towers” impressions later on..

Larissa always dresses like she will be walking on the Moon whenever we get off the train. Other than the axe and a broom to deal with the ice and accumulated snow, she also has a range of flags to signal with and a red plastic torch with an enormous battery pack and sling, which is very 1970’s. She is just great, and I’m very lucky to be in her carriage.

I’m doing my best to be Christmassy here today, but it’s a fairly solitary experience. “Official Train Christmas” is actually not until next week, as the Russian Orthodox Church has varying dates. I have a bottle of Russian champagnski on ice and also some mince pies (Marks & Spencer’s finest!).

Chef has cooked me some chicken but I’m getting all excited just thinking about a real roast dinner right now.. In passing I have discovered a stash of Kozel beer in the restaurant – both light and dark versions – pretty good at 150 Rubles a can.

In the a afternoon I opened a “Red Cross Parcel” that I had been keeping to mark the occasion – generously supplied to me personally by the President of the Edinburgh Explorer’s Club and handed to me before I left, in the front room of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s home. I discovered that it contained miniature bottles of vintage port and cognac together with a Christmas pudding from Prince Charles’ estate, Ovaltine and even a tin of Coleman’s mustard powder! – a huge morale boost.

I have performed my Santa duties and presented the three people that I depend the most upon with a little gift – the two carriage no 7 provodnitsa’s and the restaurant manager, who has immediately saturated my table with jams, chocolate and satsumas grown in a province of southern Russia that I cannot pronounce. A little bit of hospitality seems to go a long way out here.

Perhaps incredibly I seem to have slept quite well again last night. My bed is comfy, and the gentle sway of the train soon sends me to sleep. The temperature is pretty constant at about 26 C in the corridor, but 21 C in my slightly illegally ventilated compartment. The ride of the train is smooth and the brakes don’t throw you out of bed like on the Trans-Mong, probably because of the regular de-icing.

We stopped for a full 30 minutes in Barabinsk. I’m not quite sure why, as other than the usual procedures there was not much going on. The main activity on the platform appears to be trading in fish and fur hats. There are lots of fish. They are caught through holes in the ice from nearby lakes. This is more famous in Irkutsk, where the fish come from Lake Biakal. I can only assume Barabinsk is trying to improve its fish credentials to rail travellers. I’m surprised not to be targeted by the crowd of fish women, but they must have realised that the chances of a European wanting a smelly dead fish in his compartment is slight. It’s obviously in demand by the locals though.

Rita, one of the fixers I had in Moscow, has put me off hot platform food. She told me that it’s heated up in the station toilets and not very hygienic. This might be slightly alarmist, but it’s a fair point to question how this food can remain hot for so long in this climate. Hopefully my supply of Rubles will allow me to dine at least once a day in the restaurant carriage. By way of example, last night I had a starter of herring and potato, a main course of pork shnitzel and a couple of cans of beer for 920 Rubles, about £10.

The shops on the platform are open for the sale of last minute Christmas gifts. The only proviso is that you must be after a pot potato or some sort of kitch local trinket. They don’t seem to be doing much business and I can only assume people are holding back for the January sales.

For the first time today Larissa called me back onto the train. I don’t think she would deliberately leave me behind, but neither would she hold a roll call before sealing the door. The trick is to remain not too far away for the final few minutes before departure. The smokers are masters of this. Today this includes an English speaking Romanian coffee trader called Alex, who got on last night and is going as far as Irkutsk.

I have had the map out in my office this morning. I am surprised by the speed of our progress, as we reach Irkutsk tomorrow night – that leaves three further full days to reach Vladivostok. This is partly the effect of Moscow time, but maybe also the line is slower on the final stages of the journey. What I have realised is that I’m going to miss seeing Lake Baikal, as we will be passing its shores during the night. That’s a shame as its hugely impressive – like a frozen sea. I haven’t been calculating the distance each day this trip, but I can see that I have now got around 8000 km under my belt. It’s amazing how much ground you can cover even at a slow speed by travelling day and night with only a few stops.

Can I take this opportunity to wish you and your family a “Happy Christmas” from wherever you might be reading this.

We have stopped only three times today, just once in daylight. Most of the stops are for 22 minutes, I assume that this is to facilitate a locomotive change, to take on water, load the post and to do the de-icing. I like to walk up to the front of the train when we stop, but it’s not easy as my carriage is three from the rear of the train. It takes me 6 minutes to do this on an average platform, so 12 minutes of the stop is walking leaving 5 minutes to take a photo and admire the view, leaving a 5 minute contingency. No one will recognise me up front when we depart, so I don’t like it very much, especially in the darkness.

If you look carefully you can see the comms pod and aerial on the top of carriage no 6 under the gantry. I think no 7 is the only “business class” (2 berth) carriage, no 6 is one of a few 4 berth.

The time zone is becoming more disruptive to my routine than I would have expected. My iPad clock demonstrates the issue – train time will eventually be seven hours behind the local time..

I have devised a cunning solution that makes me feel a bit like a Victorian explorer (which I quite like). It has involved the purchase of a souvenir Russian Railways pocket watch. I have this set to Moscow time and use it in conjunction with the timetable. I then use my wristwatch as the restaurant (local) time zone. I have also started to position the bezel marker of my watch to the time of the next stop to I can plan ahead a few hours.

I’m in love with the pocket watch as it feels like a talisman or lucky charm for my journey. Let’s hope it brings me good fortune.

On the subject of the timetable I was reminded today that part of this very train is in theory according to the timetable, on the way to North Korea. Next time I get to the front of the train I shall see if I can spot the carriage in question. I don’t know if it is segregated in any way, but the North Koreans are certainly not visible in the restaurant carriage.

There has been plenty of snow around today, but it’s not properly cold yet. I need to keep an eye of this as condensation could freeze and jam my window shut (or open). At a push I wonder if I might be able to use my espresso machine to squirt boiling water into the mechanism in an emergency.

I have been nothing but bowled over by the work of the Provodnitsa’s on this journey so far. Larissa has completely hoovered the carriage today, including my compartment and the bathrooms remain immaculate. If you are reading this blog and worried about living on the train for a week, then the 002 is for you! I kind of miss the laid back Chinese guards on the 004, but they only ever cleaned the train as we approached Beijing…