Ansasi, the bike hire contact, meets me at the hotel at the set time. We put on my pedals, my seat, adjust the panniers. “Put my number in your phone and call me if anything goes wrong. I can drive to get you – I have done it before. A man two metres tall with a load like yours broke his wheel off road.” He tells me that he has heard Canadians are the nicest people on earth.

I thank him and ride to the train station, fluttery about how to get the heavy bike on the train, the right platform. I’m not wrong — it’s not that easy. I find the right entrance and am greeted by stairs and a little metal ramp for bikes. Mine is loaded and back heavy and it slides and gravity takes over. A shiny Latvian woman efficiently helps me right it and holds…