Seat 2A

BARILOCHE – SAN ANTONIO OESTE
Tren Patagonico
7:00pm – 6:30am
Car 101, Beds 1-2

Photos can be found HERE.


Bariloche’s bus terminal is located right next door to its train station. Both buildings are architecturally very attractive, built of stone in a style reminiscent of that seen in Swiss or Austrian mountain towns. When I first visited Bariloche in 1994, I took immediate notice of the handsome train station and asked about train service to the city. At that time, I believe the train ran between Bariloche and Buenos Aires and was operated by the Argentine government. The rolling stock was in poor condition and the train had earned a well established reputation for poor service and late arrivals. Enroute delays of many hours were common due to the poor condition of the equipment and/or the track.

While there is no longer direct service to Buenos Aires, a privately owned company called SEFEPA (Servicios Ferroviarios Patagónicos) took over operations of the 868km line between Bariloche and the Atlantic coastal city of Viedma. The passenger train that now operates along this route is known as the Tren Patagonico or The Patagonian Train.

Tren Patagonico has a website and it is possible to request reservations online. I did so and was treated to a quick response and accurate information. I wanted to book a reservation for a private room but was told that the prices quoted for rooms were based upon double occupancy. If I wanted to have a room to myself, I’d have to purchase both beds. The First Class Sleeper fare for the thirteen hour journey over to San Antonio Oeste was $120.00 ARP or about $40.00 USD, so double that for a private room. Interestingly however, the only acceptable means of prepaying the ticket involved sending the money via Western Union. With their additional fees, my total came to $106.00 USD, still more than acceptable for a private room on an overnight train. It was arranged that my ticket would be waiting for me at the railroad’s ticket office in the Bariloche station. Throughout this process, email communication with Tren Patagonico was excellent and I’d like to commend them here for a job well done.

The train departure time was 7:00pm, so I decided to catch a local bus out to the station at about 4:45pm. When I collected my backpack from storage at the hotel, the desk clerk told me that the train always left at 5:00pm. I replied that I’d been told by the railroad that my 7:00pm reservation was for a special Easter train. The clerk said he’d never heard of the railroad ever doing such a thing in years past, so I headed off to the bus stop feeling mildly unsettled. Oh well – if the train truly did leave at 5:00pm, there was nothing I could do about it now, so I might as well head on out to the station and find out for sure. As a fall-back plan, I could always spend a couple more days in Bariloche, so life could certainly be worse. Like the time I got stuck in Barstow, California for three days. Regardless, the whole reservation process with Tren Patagonico had been handled so professionally that I felt fairly confident there’d be a 7:00pm train.

Today being Sunday, the city busses were running on a reduced schedule. I waited almost thirty minutes for one to show up and when it did it was completely full as in not even standing room was available. By now it was about 5:20pm and since I hadn’t yet picked up my ticket, I figured the prudent thing to do would be to shell out the big bucks and take a taxi. The bus fare out to the station was $2.70 ARP, so I was resigned to pay $20.00 or more for the taxi. Imagine then my surprise when the total price came to just $8.70 ARP or about $2.75 USD! I love the exchange rate in Argentina!

When I arrived at the station, my heart skipped a beat when I saw a train in what appeared to be the final boarding process. A couple of railroad employees were at the car doors stowing the step stools and preparing for imminent departure. Imagine my relief to find that there was indeed a 7:00pm departure and that the train currently in the station was the 5:00pm departure just getting ready to depart.

After collecting my ticket from the ticket agent, I stowed my backpack and then went out to have a look at the 5:00pm train. For a train that appeared on the very verge of departing, it was certainly taking its time. Frankly speaking, I thought the train cars looked pretty rough. All of the cars were painted in flat two-tone blue and white paint that had faded badly over the years. Most of the cars were marked “Clase Tourista” and I could see through the windows that seating was in straight-backed, non-reclining seats. The cars looked very full and I didn’t envy any of those riders the long overnight journey to Viedma. Even the single First Class car looked like it had seen better days. First Class seating was a bit better however, configured 2-2 with reclining seats.

At 6:00pm, the 7:00pm train was pulled into the station by a single engine. Surprisingly, boarding was available immediately so I grabbed my pack and climbed right onboard. My ticket read Car 101, Beds 1-2. Ah, there’s my room – first door on the left.

My compartment was quite adequate for one or even two people. It measured about seven feet deep by five feet wide. During the day, seating was on a long blue leather couch. There was no recline but there was plenty of space. At night, the back of the couch folds down to reveal a fully made bed about 6’6” long by 2’6” wide. A second bunk of equal size folds down from the wall above the couch. Across from the couch were two large coat closets and in the corner by the window was a large sink and mirror. Lights were everywhere – on the ceiling, above the door, beside the mirror and above each bed. I was also happy to see an electrical outlet that I could use to recharge my computer for tomorrow’s long bus ride. I took a few pictures of the room and then headed out to inspect the rest of the train.

One of the benefits of boarding early is that it’s an excellent time to take pictures of the railcar interiors because the train isn’t moving. Even on good quality welded rails, trains put out a good bit of vibration which of course makes it extremely difficult to get a good clear photograph. From what I could see of the tracks alongside the station, we would not be in for a silky smooth ride on tonight’s journey across Argentina.

My tour took me from one end of the train to the other, inside and out. Following the single engine and power generator car were the cinema and disco cars. I’ve ridden over two hundred long distance trains on every continent except Antarctica and I’ve never seen anything close to these two cars before. The cinema car offered forty-eight theater style seats arranged in twelve rows of four across. The screen at the front of the car was huge – almost the width of the railcar and about four and a half feet high. A couple of railroad employees were watching some cartoons and the overall picture quality and sound were excellent. This was a very impressive car. On the doorway leading into it was a sign listing the movies and their times. Here are the listings for tonight’s trip:

7:00pm The Marine
8:30pm Duel of Dragons
10:30pm In Search of Happyness
12:30am Rocky Balboa
9:00am El Raton Perez (Cartoon)

The Disco car was exactly that – a rolling discotheque, right down to the ceiling mounted light machine that shot out flashing, spinning multi-colored spots of light. The windows were painted over, so this car was, like a disco, always dark.

The diner was the next car back. The wooden tables and chairs lent an appealingly rustic ambience to the car, an effect nicely enhanced by the ochre tablecloths and the bottle of wine on each table. I snapped a couple of quick photos and moved on.

Next up were the two sleeper or “Dormitory” cars. Each car had about a dozen compartments, all of them laid out exactly the same as mine which I described above. Separate Men’s and Women’s toilets were located at the ends of each car. No shower facilities were available and the toilets were the old fashioned type that deposited everything directly below and outside of the train onto the tracks.

The last car back was the First Class Pullman car. Although the name may sound fancy, the seating was essentially the same as what one would find if traveling Economy Class on a European or American train. The reclining seats were configured 2-2 and offered about a 38” pitch. Assuming one were traveling all the way to Viedma, the price for these seats would be only about $20.00 USD less than one would pay for a shared sleeper, or $60.00 less for a private sleeper.

When it comes to riding trains, I like to have my own room and will pay extra – within reason – to have it. In hostels, I routinely sleep in dorm rooms that have four or more people in them, but on a train the quarters are so much smaller by comparison that I generally don’t like to share them with a stranger. Above all else, my primary concern is snorers. I am almost phobic in my aversion to snoring. Mind you, I can’t really fault those who snore. After all, nobody snores on purpose or maliciously. I just know that I cannot sleep – even with earplugs – when there’s someone snoring in the room. Imagine how much worse it would be in a train compartment!

At 6:58pm, a bell mounted outside the station rang, followed a minute later by a few loud toots on a mouth whistle. I never did hear anyone call out the Spanish equivalent of “All Aboard!” At 7:00pm, the station bell rang once again and we were off, accelerating ever so slowly out of the station. Lots of people – friends, relatives, well wishers and perhaps even train lovers lined the tracks to see us off. The overall spirit seemed quite festive and I couldn’t help but wave back to everyone even though I knew none of them. Most of them waved happily back to me.

As we rolled out past the last vestiges of suburban Bariloche and into the low rolling hills and plains to the east of town, our speed increased considerably, eventually topping out at about 50mph. About twenty minutes into the journey there came a knock on my door. It was the dining car steward come to offer me a choice of dinner seatings. The first seating would be at 9:00pm, the second at 11:00pm. Wow! Amtrak’s diner is usually closed by 9:00pm, occasionally even earlier! I chose the first seating.

“And for your entrée choice? Tonight we have fish, steak or vegetarian pasta.”
“Hmm… I’ll take the steak, please. Medium rare.”

By now it was starting to get fairly dark outside and my body clock was telling me it was time for a beer. The logical choice for purchasing one seemed to be the Disco Car, so I headed up there straightaway. When I arrived, the place was in full swing with swirling colored lights and loud disco type music pumping out from four wall-mounted speakers. The colored lights were the only lights in the whole car, so it was actually pretty dark. Five or six people were sat down at the far end of the car, though none of them were dancing. Almost all of them were smoking however, and the growing cloud of cigarette smoke was becoming quite oppressive.
The car attendant/deejay informed me that beer and snacks could be purchased only in the dining car, and so it was with some relief that I left behind the thumping bass and clouds of smoke for the relative serenity of the dining car.

The main beer sold in Argentina is called Quilmes. I’d put it on par with American Budweiser for overall quality. It’s nothing special but it’ll make you dizzy if you drink enough of it. I was expecting Quilmes on the train, so imagine my surprise to find that the only beer available was big bottles of ice cold German Warsteiner Lager. Ein bier bitte! I shelled out about $3.00 for a big 1 liter bottle and returned to my room where I had a big baggie of smoked almonds that I’d brought with me from Alaska but thus far had neglected to open. Ah, das gute Leben!

At 9:00pm, I headed back to the diner. Seating was communal, and the steward sat me with an American woman from Washington State named Betty. She’d been down in Argentina all by herself for three months, pretty much just figuring it out as she went. Above all else, Betty loved walking and hiking, both of which she’d done a lot of in Argentina. She had a wonderful sense of adventure about her that will no doubt fuel many more adventures now that her kids are grown and she’s got more free time on her hands. Betty was in her mid-sixties and traveling on her social security money! I really had to admire her spunk, for how many sixty year old women do you know who, on their first big trip abroad would travel all alone to a place like Argentina as opposed to someplace safe like England or New Zealand or Europe?
Coincidentally, Betty had worked the past four summers in Alaska. What a gal!

Dinner turned out to be a fixed price affair that included a selection of starter salads, the main entrée and your choice of dessert. The total price of $25.00 ARP was the equivalent of about $8.25 USD. Service started with a trolley presentation featuring a variety of salads including potato, tomato and marinated zucchini and peppers. There were also slices of this weird looking meat bathed in a horrible fishy tasting sauce. The vegetable salads were okay, but that meat – save it for the dogs.

Salad plates were efficiently cleared and our entrees were brought out soon after. I had ordered the steak and was presented a good looking but otherwise overcooked New York strip steak accompanied by mashed potatoes. Betty had ordered the vegetarian pasta and was served a plateful of little ravioli covered in a pink colored sauce. She thought it was pretty good but wished some vegetables had been included. I wished my steak had been cooked medium rare. As it was, I had to chew hard and snap my head back to get it down.

Dessert was fruit salad or flan and we both had the fruit salad. Coffee and tea were offered afterwards and by the time we’d finished, it was almost 10:30pm. How time flies when you’re having fun. Since we were both getting off at San Antonio Oeste, we promised to meet for coffee in the morning and with that called it a night. Arrival time in San Antonio was scheduled for 6:30am but since we’d made a couple of long stops enroute since leaving Bariloche, I asked one of the railroad employees what time we’d be arriving. There were three of them gathered in the alcove of the diner and a bit of a debate ensued as to exactly what time we’d arrive into San Antonio. I heard everything from 7:00am to 9:00am. Whatever. So long as I don’t miss my 10:30am bus to Rio Gallegos.

On the assumption that we’d be arriving as early as 7:00am, I set my alarm clock for 6:15am. Then, rather than get under the tightly tucked sheets in my bed, I pulled out my sleeping bag and threw it over me like a big quilt. Even on backpacking trips in the mountains, I never sleep in it zipped up unless it’s colder than about 30°F. It’s much nicer as a quilt than a restrictive zippered bag. I slept so well that I almost slept through the alarm clock.

At 6:30 I headed up to the diner and met Betty for coffee and croissants. It was a cloudy day and the land rolling by outside the windows looked a lot like the high plains of eastern Montana. There was no evidence of any civilization anywhere, and it soon became apparent that we wouldn’t be arriving in San Antonio Oeste by 7:00am. My bus wasn’t scheduled to leave until 10:30, so I wasn’t too worried yet. Betty had no worries at all since she was planning to spend a couple of days in SA.

Soon, the official word on our arrival was 9:30am. I’d now gone from an advertised arrival time of 6:30am to 9:30am, cutting the time I had to connect to my southbound bus from four hours to one hour. Aside from the fact that I had no idea where the train station was in relation to the bus station, I was confident that a taxi driver would.

Betty and I had refills on coffee and I had another croissant. 9:30 came and went, then 9:45 and finally, at about 10:00am, we started to see the first signs of civilization – a rusty broken down truck parked next to a heavily damaged barn. Before long a dirt road appeared, then a few more buildings… could this be San Antonio?

Yes! I saw a sign! Bidding a speedy adieu to Betty, I grabbed my gear and prepared for en expeditious egress from the train. When it finally did arrive in San Antonio at 10:12am, I was primed and ready to go at the door. If there was a station, I never saw it. I hopped off the train and beelined it to the first and only taxi I saw – a lone Toyota parked under a tree across a fence from the tracks. Moments later we were on our way, driving over a variety of dusty back roads - none of them paved, some of them no wider than a driveway. Eight minutes later I was dropped off at the nondescript Terminal de Autobus. Thank goodness! I had fifteen minutes to spare!

As things turned out, my bus didn’t arrive until 11:15am.