Now I know why The Navigator bought a hank of rope two days ago. It had been more of a ‘just in case’ purchase, a ‘belt and braces’ for when it came time to trussing the bike box beasties.

Yesterday we finished the day as it started, still in possession of two dismantled cycles in boxes. No further forward. However between The Navigator and the hotel’s reception desk, a possible solution is concocted. Our hotel has a sister establishment across the river which is on an open, normal street, so removing one impediment and one potential excuse. Which moves us on to the next problem.

How to shift ‘the beasties’. First walk the route, as there’s so many alleys and passages in the old town that Sr. Google could miss. We don’t want a falling-out divorce over repeating then retreating back down the same street hauling one of those beasties.

Routing solved, now to consider the shift, a ‘flitting’ of 2×28 kg bike box beasties. Fox, chicken, grain across the river conundrum time. The simplest solution always is to have a secure place on the other side. We don’t have a hen coop; instead we get the code for the sister hotel’s night time door, all courtesy of our guardian angel manifesting as the receptionist Wahiba.

A taxi might work, but we can both write a scenario that contains far too many imponderables, snafus and b-ups. We’ve encountered them all before, and there’s bound to be a new, improved 13.0 version awaiting release. At the end of the day it pays to be blessed with the control-freak gene. Just do it yourself.

In the dead of early dawn, the beasties slung in a hammock knotted out of that serendipitous hank of polyprop rope we set off across the river, taking up more road space than a SUV. Revenge of the bicycle.

Two trips and we’ve beaten the sunrise, beaten the hotel’s café bar’s opening. Now to beat the FedEx system.

It does take five hours, but the relief of an anonymous white van’s materialisation is palpable.

Bon Voyage bicis!