WHAT TO DO IN USHUAIA

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THE PRISON TRAIN

I awoke with a start and a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. I glanced at the time. It was 9:45 a.m. No alarm... and I had told the tour company I would be waiting outside the house at 9:00 a.m. Oh, no! The dog had awakened me. There are three doors and a wooden gate between a knock and my room. I had not heard anything until Jhemil barked. I jumped up and dressed swiftly, but of course the tour bus was gone by the time I got to the gate. I had missed the train yet again!

When I looked on the internet at what to do in Ushuaia everyone it seemed, suggested riding the Prison Train. I only had a week in Tierra del Fuego and this was the last day I could fit the trip in my schedule. Three times I had walked to town intent on taking the tour and three times I had missed the departure. And now I had done it again. An ordinary person might consider this excursion was not meant to be. No prison train. But I was still determined.

We called the tour company. They were quite upset for having their schedule compromised, but agreed to honor the afternoon train ticket. However, I had to find my own transportation. Hernan, my host, drove me to town so I could get a taxi to the train. My taxi driver’s name was Elvino and he was very amusing. He was tickled that his name was El Vino. I will never forget his name.

We got to the train station, located in the Tierra del Fuego National Park, in plenty of time and I was able to look around and eventually exchange the paper receipt for a ticket. The young lady at the information desk was anxious to talk to me, an American, and we chatted for a long time. After the conductor gave his brief history of the Prison Train in Spanish he asked if there were any English speakers present. Mine was the only hand that went up. So he gave me a brochure with a short history of the prison train, in English. That was it.

The train tracks were laid in 1909 and continue only 8 kilometers. The prisoners, who were the country's most dangerous felons, rode the train every day to cut wood to keep them warm, and heat the prison, too. Without this fuel they would freeze to death.

Today the train was warm and there were cushioned seats in the small compartments. A young man who worked for the park sat next to me and his English was quite good. He had worked on the train for three years and knew everything about the short line. It was great to hear all about the train and about the young man's life working at the park. I was interested in the train ride at first but there really wasn't much to see or do. The peaceful, snowy landscape, the heat, the silence and the mesmerizing sound of the wheels on the rails were so relaxing. Soon I was drowsy.

We made only one stop for people to stretch their legs and take a closer look at a meandering creek and the snowy fields. Usually passengers walk to a small waterfall where the train once took on water for the steam engine. The trains, three in all, are now converted to gasoline because it is better for the environment. Today, due to the snow and the cold there was very little water on the falls and the trail was impassable. There were some very nice double-sided signs, English on one side, Spanish on the other, about the indigenous tribes of Tierra del Fuego.

The train tracks run through a small valley and you can still see the stumps left where the prisoners cut down the trees near the tracks. They called this area the tree cemetery. The tree trunks were transported back to the prison where they were sawed into smaller lengths and chopped up for fire wood to heat the prison.

There is little wildlife. We saw a buzzard sitting near some carrion, "...perhaps a wild dog," the young man said. And there were many very shaggy small horses that are left to pasture there in the park. Other than that there was little to see except the snow and the countryside. No one worried about the prisoners escaping, since there was no escaping the bleak, hostile environment. Prisoners who ran away simply froze to death.

Changing the direction of the train for the return trip was a diversion. Now instead of being in the caboose, I was right behind the locomotive, even though it was traveling backward. Photography was near impossible on the outward bound route due to the badly pitted plexiglass windows. They still reflected images like a mirror. On the way back to the station, with the locomotive in front of my car, the steam drifted backward past the windows and obscured the view. It felt like I was traveling in a cloud. I actually fell asleep during the return trip and awoke with a start.

I experienced a strong feeling of isolation back at the station; the fallen snow seemed to muffle sound. Fellow travelers finished their hot chocolate and cookies, and there was a short flurry of activity as they donned their warm outer garments and left in their vehicles for home. My taxi driver had agreed to return for me and had gotten information about when the train would be back at the station. I watched out the windows for him as darkness fell. He turned out to be two hours late. The night watchman continued to stoke the small wood stove. It provided some warmth when you stood really close to it. After exchanging a few words we fell silent. I could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. I felt abandoned, left behind, but I knew I would get back to town somehow. I wasn’t in any danger. It was a relief, however, when Elvino and his taxi finally arrived.

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Photos

VISITOR CENTER - TRAIN STATION
Let it snow!

STATIONMASTER'S SPIEL
Spanish only...not enough English speakers.

OUR ENGINE
No longer burning wood.

MY CAR
Warm and cozy.

THE PORTER
Modern lad; another generation.

TREE CEMETERY
Only a few stumps in this section.

TIERRA DEL FUEGO NATIONAL PARK
Indigenous people in a harsh clime.

FORAGING HORSE
There were many horses grazing in the park.

BEAUTIFUL AND BLEAK
Taken through the window of the train.

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

3 times you're out...or not
Congratulations on finding a way to make the train. Glad Alvin was there for you.

[D MJ Binkley]

Alone in the wilderness
The serenity of isolation.

[Never too old]

Alone in the wilderness
I think about re-visiting Ushuaia...It is awesome.