Part 1 – 7th May 2021

I arrived back from my run feeling satisfied – I had studied Russian, practiced the sax, cracked in a short workout and got in a long run and it was only 10:30am. Pat on the back moment. I picked up my phone, undisturbed since last night and flicked off airplane mode. 

To my surprise I saw a string of missed calls. Twenty of them. I read Nijat’s messages. They were brief. “Luke. Great news. Tomorrow at 8:00am be at the port”, “!!!!!!” These were sent at 11:57pm. I scrolled down. “Pls don’t be late” – sent at 00:18am. And the final message, sent at 10:18am this morning, as I was finishing my crunches, “Ferry has left ☹”. 

Never mind I had been waiting almost two weeks for the ferry, rarely leaving my phone unchecked for more than a couple of hours. But literally overnight the ferry had gone from interminably unknown departure to gone. This was mildly inconvenient. 

A series of calls followed. Nijat, sounded disappointed, like I hadn’t remembered the spelling for “punctual” at a spelling bee, said he’d done all he could to stall the ferry and contact me. And he had. He’d hoped I would get up early. I had. 

Then Maya called from the Kazakh Embassy: “there’s a ferry this evening. Pack your things and go! Don’t cycle and get a taxi.”

“Are you sure…? I’ve just heard…”

“Yes I’m sure, now hurry!” 

I called Nijat and asked him to double check as I trooped around the flat, half-heartedly throwing clothes into a centralised heap. I wasn’t going to get my hopes up quite yet. 

Nijat called back. There definitely wasn’t a ferry. The next one would be in a minimum of a week. Worse, I knew that a ten day public holiday was starting the next day and all the embassies would be closed – scuppering my plan B of a Russian visa which would allow me to ride around the northern Caspian shore into Kazakhstan. 

I phoned Maya back. “Nijat said there definitely isn’t a ferry…” 

“Yes Luke, you should have been there at 8am this morning.” Indeed. 

“I happened to be asleep at midnight when they called.” This seemed to be quite reasonable to me but neither Maya nor Nijat appeared to agree. 

“There might be a cargo ferry leaving soon though,” Maya went on helpfully. 

“That would be perfect,” I exuded, “I’ll happily sleep on the deck.”

There is no cargo ferry today, but there might be tomorrow. One thing I know though, is I won’t be turning my phone off again. 

Part 2 – 10th May 20201

Four days have passed. Each day since I’ve been poised to leave. “The cargo ferry is here,” Maya has told me on several occasions, but it’s not “here” enough for me to embark. Yesterday I found out why. It turns out the ferry is hovering out at sea, waiting for calm seas before coming in to dock. 

Does that take four days? I hear you ask. Apparently, yes. Baku isn’t known as the windy city for nothing and it seems this ferry needs to see its goddamn rusted hull in glassy water before it’ll kiss the concrete jetty. 

This morning I “cracked the system” by looking at the wind forecast. By the evening the wind would die to nothing, and I knew the ferry would leave at last. I packed my five bags, manhandled Chris into the elevator, and set out for the port, pausing only for a final flat white at my favourite coffee shop (to no one’s surprise). A message popped up on my phone. The ferry would not be leaving today, but it probably would tomorrow.