Night train to Balaklava

This isn’t an Urbex report, it’s more of a travel report, but was such an integral part of my Ukraine experience, that I thought I’d share it.

So after a life changing experience in Prypiat, I’m relaxing in the hotel back in Kiev whith a whisky chatting to some fellow explorers. It transpires that that all of the Soviet stuff is in the Crimea, 1,400km south of where I’m now slowly getting drunk.

I wake up clear headed, with the images of the previous day burnt into my mind, and go and get on a train that will take me as far south as possible.
Our trusty steed:


Thought I’d nip to the toilet at the station:


O...K...I’ll try the other one...


Maybe I’ll leave it. The train was divided into First Class, Second Class, Third Class, and “Self-loading Freight” That’d be me then. To say it was a little cramped would be like saying Prypiat was a little deserted:




The toilet on the train is better than the station, although you get the feeling they have just painted it each time instead of cleaning it. It’s basically a bucket on the train floor, when you hit the pedal, the bottom flips open to deposit the contents onto the track. (For the extremist’s try holding this open as you go)


Also note the foot plates on the rim. The custom in the Ukraine is to stand on the rim and squat. No, really it is.

I bought a litre of wine at the station (for under £1) but it must be 30 degrees on here, drinking is the last thing on my mind. That’s not the case for everyone though. There was a character we dubbed ‘The Captain’ who was more vodka than person. He was properly mashed, he tried to get to his feet a few times but rarely managed it. The smell of vodka was starting to intoxicate me more than the cheap wine would have done.

The Captain.

He did manage a short stumble down the corridor, but seemed to be affected by some kind of sideways gravity, which pulled him sideways, sending him crashing into three sleeping babushkas. He was ejected at the next stop onto the platform. After stumbling around, nearly into oncoming trains on many occasions, he was thrown off the platform by the station guard, back onto our train!

I doze off, only to be awoken by a poking. The guy in the bunk opposite smiles, and points down at The Captain. He’s fallen off his shelf, and has become wedged between the seat and the table. I look up, and Neil pulls an imaginary camera to his face and presses the shutter. I silently slide my camera out of it’s bag and lean precariously over the ledge to get a decent aerial shot. At that moment the train jolts and The Captain wakes. He’s not happy, but is too drunk to do anything other than groan, and wave a finger at me.


I put my passport into my camera bag, and used that as a pillow for safe keeping -They’re the only two thing I need right now thousands of miles from home. I curl up on my shelf and try and get some sleep, there’s 15 hours to go.


Night, night, see you in Balaklava.