Wednesday, 9 January 2019
Ushuaia, Argentina
Off to the airport to pick up hire car from Hertz, to drive 2,200km to Bariloche over the next week. All the forms are signed. Time to pay. Credit card declined when he inserts card. Credit card declined again when he does it manually. Credit card declined when he tries another way and I input my PIN.
Hmmm.
I know there’s plenty of credit so it must be a fraud check. Ring credit card company. Eventually speak with a human being. He’s Indian. Wouldn’t you believe. It’s not the clearest of lines. There’s a slight delay. I’m in airport terminal building with lots of extraneous noise. This is going to be fun.
Explain my predicament. He’s most helpful. Tell him it really is me trying to do a transaction and not some fraudulent activity. No problem, Sir. I’ll just check something on the system. OK. That’s done, Sir. Ring me back if you have any further problems. Er. I don’t think so mate. Not going through that rigmarole again. You hold on the line sunshine whilst we sort this out. Credit card declined again. Oh, sorry, Sir. Yes. You will be. Just get this sorted. Please. Try again. Nope. Credit card declined again. OK, Sir let me renew the card. No. I don’t want a new card. I want this one. And I want it to work now! Sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean renew. I meant refresh. Ah. Chop chop. It’s taken 15mins already. Losing the will to live. Wait until card is refreshed. I feeling far from refreshed. Try again. Yay. Credit card accepted. Phew. Indian congratulates me on my new card. No. I don’t a new card. I want this one to work. Sorry, Sir. I meant congratulations on the new car. Huh? I don’t have a new car. It’s a hire car. Oh, sorry, Sir. I thought you were buying a new car. Is there anything else I can help you with today. No. Thank you for calling…blah blah…blah.
Finally. Take the keys of a white Toyota Hilux. I’m used to a sportier little number. Mine drives like it’s on rails. This is like driving a wallowing elephant. Mine brakes immediately. This requires booking an appointment. Mine accelerates like there’s no tomorrow. This doesn’t. Mine goes zoom. This goes chug-chug-chug.
Have car will travel. Short drive along route 3 to the Train at the End of the World. Tarmac road soon disappears and driving on gravel dirt roads. Dusty and noisy. Train at 1200hrs. It’s now 1030hrs. All the staff are really friendly and interested to know that I’m from England. They all love England and most have been. They all speak English too. I thought there might be a hint of animosity towards the British here because of the Falklands War but have experienced nothing but friendliness.
Train has Tourist, First and Premium Class. Tourist is small seats in rows of three in a very narrow carriage, about 1.2m wide. First is two seats and a table with leg room. Leg room it is then. Added bonus of a sandwich, drinks, cake and three gifts included.
This narrow gauge railway was built by prisoners at the turn of the last century to transport timber and stone to the small settlement of Ushuaia and the penal colony there. The last 7km remains as a tourist attraction.
Trundle through the valley. Vvvveeeerrrryyyyy ssssllloooowwwwlllly. It’s cramped in First, so glad not in Tourist class. I’m in a carriage with 8 seats and 4 tables. Fortunately, only 4 seats are used. Fellow passengers are a Russian family from St Petersburg. Mum is dainty. Teenage son clearly doesn’t want to be there. Needs a slap. Dad is your stereotypical Russian Bear. He’s about 6’7” and far wider than me. His big beer belly overflows. Think Giant Haystacks.
The landscape reminds me of the New Forest (surrounded by snow capped mountains). Plenty of free roaming horses and scrubland. Like driving over Beaulieu Common.
Russian Bear smokes at the platform stop. He’s had half a bottle of wine. He shifts his huge frame a few steps down the narrow gangway and plonks himself opposite me. For a chat. I can, quite frankly, being doing without this. Want to admire the view. He stinks. Big belly overflowing and his shirt riding up. Nice.
He asks where I’m from. Tells me that it’s not good a time for Russians to go to England. Novichok, I ask? He’s not a Putin supporter but doesn’t think Putin did it. Skripal was in a Russian prison for years so why not do it then?
Pretend I need to take a photo of a tree which cuts the conversation short. Thankfully. Not the most exciting of rail journeys I have to say. But it is the most southerly railway I have travelled.
Excellent dinner in La Estancia. There are six whole lambs spread out on the rack slowly roasting over the charcoal. This is not the place for vegans. Excellent lamb, beef and pork. All you can eat.
Have decided to chart the barrel postcard’s progress so I can show the recipient what a well travelled postcard it is. Take photo of postcard at The End of the World signboard. Now that I have internet access, I can find out exactly where Qualicum Beach is. It rings a bell. Lo and behold, dear reader. That’s why it rings a bell. I’ve been through it 9 years ago. On my Around the World in 60 Days trip (so much blog to catch up on) in 2010. Around the world by train. Trans Siberian-Trans Canadian. An old friend has a house on Hornby Island, between Vancouver and Vancouver Island. We went there for the weekend. Landed at Nanaimo then drove up to Hornby Island through…Qualicum Beach. That’s why I remember it! I shall be going there again on this trip to deliver said postcard. Oh. The. Excitement. Think this needs to be a local news story.
