The journey here doesn't win points for ease. It did do well on lovely people. I'm rather grateful the guard on the first train didn't see fit to make me move to my alotted seat - at the opposite end of the train.
The second train was delayed by 50 minutes. From the collective intake of breathe I'm guessing that isn't common. Nor the platform change. A man himself overburdened with bags, gave me a hand getting down the steps.
Finally onto the connecting train where the self appointed Guardians of the Bikes helped not only me but anyone with a bike. And there were a lot of people with bikes. In a carriage designed for three we stuffed seven. All with bags.
After waiting for a train that seemed it would never arrive - its lateness being announced in small increments. Drip feeding the bad news - people were in that 'all in it together mood'. There was a collective problem solving session as we worked out how to install all this stuff. The Guardians got up at every stop to make sure bikes were held out of the way. They blocked the doors as one near hysterical woman ran back for her bag.
At the other end we worked bit by bit to get everyone up and down stairs and eventually the Guardian Crew set off on their merry way.
I cycled the short distance to the site and set myself up. Now I'm eating tea and studying maps. Making plans for the next leg of my journey.
The swinging hook - a feat of strength and coordination. In a confined space you get your bike at the right angle. Then you lift it high in the air and then you try to catch it on a constantly moving little bit of metal.
Seven bikes. None in the 'correct' space. Did the guard care? Did he heck.
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