Steam Hissing. Metal groaning. The smell of burning coal sticks to your clothes for days. If you’re heading to the bottom of the world looking for a high-speed rail experience, you’ve come to the right place to be disappointed. The Old Patagonian Express isn't about getting anywhere fast. It’s about surviving a journey that feels like it should have ended in 1945. Known locally as La Trochita, this narrow-gauge railway is a stubborn relic. It’s a 750mm gauge track, which basically means the rails are less than three feet apart. It looks like a toy. It feels like a miracle that it still moves.
Paul Theroux made this train famous in the late 70s. He wrote a book with the same name, and honestly, he spent most of it complaining. But he captured something essential about the isolation of the Patagonian steppe. Today, the train doesn't run the full original route from Ingeniero Jacobacci to Esquel on a regular schedule. It’s fragmented. It’s expensive to maintain. Yet, somehow, the Baldwin and Henschel locomotives keep chuffing along, defying the harsh winds of the Chubut province.
Why the Old Patagonian Express Is Actually a Narrow Gauge Marvel
Most people don't realize how weird this train is from an engineering perspective. Usually, "narrow gauge" refers to 1,000mm tracks. This is 750mm. It’s tiny. The reason? It was cheaper to build in the 1920s when the Argentine government wanted to connect the sheep farming outposts of the south to the rest of the world. They bought hundreds of miles of track and these specific engines from Baldwin in the US and Henschel in Germany.
The steam engines are the stars. They are original. No modern diesel swaps here. When you see the black smoke billowing against the backdrop of the Andes, it’s not a special effect. It’s raw, inefficient, beautiful combustion. The wood-burning stoves inside the carriages aren't for "ambiance." They are the only thing keeping you from freezing when the Patagonian wind kicks up. You’ll see passengers huddled around them, drying damp gloves or just staring at the flickering embers.
The journey is slow. You could probably jog faster than the train on some of the steeper gradients. But that’s the point. You see the guanacos—those camel-like creatures that look like they're judging your life choices—leaping away from the tracks. You see the vast, empty "nothingness" that defines this part of Argentina. It's a landscape of browns, greys, and sudden, violent blues from the sky.
The Route: What’s Left of the 402 Kilometers
Back in the day, the line ran over 400 kilometers. Now, it’s mostly tourist runs. The most popular leg is from Esquel to Nahuel Pan. It’s about 20 kilometers. It takes an hour. Or two. Depending on the weather and the mood of the engine. There is another section operating out of El Maitén, which is where the main workshops are located. If you’re a real train nerd, El Maitén is the holy grail.
In the workshops, mechanics still use tools that haven't been manufactured in decades. They sand-cast their own parts. They forge steel. They keep the Old Patagonian Express alive through sheer Argentine "lo atamos con alambre" energy—the philosophy of fixing things with whatever wire and grit you have on hand. It’s a museum that breathes.
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The Paul Theroux Effect and the Reality of 2026
Theroux’s book ends at the tip of the line. He makes it sound like the end of the world. In some ways, it still feels that way, but the "tourist-ification" has changed the vibe slightly. You aren't sharing a carriage with gauchos moving livestock anymore. You’re sharing it with photographers from Berlin and retirees from Buenos Aires.
But don't think it's a "Disney" experience.
The wind is real. The dust is real. If the locomotive breaks down—and it does—you wait. There is no Uber. There is no 5G signal out on the steppe. You sit. You talk. You maybe share some mate with the person next to you. This is the authentic part of the Old Patagonian Express that people miss when they focus only on the photos. It forces a certain kind of stillness that modern travel tries to eliminate.
Survival Tips for the Patagonian Steppe
- Layers are not optional. The temperature can drop 15 degrees in twenty minutes.
- Book in advance. The train doesn't run every day. Sometimes it runs once a week. Sometimes it doesn't run because the snow is too deep.
- Bring cash. The small stations like Nahuel Pan don't always love credit cards.
- Clean your camera lens. Every ten minutes. The soot from the engine gets everywhere.
The "Express" part of the name was always a joke. Even in 1945, it was slow. Today, it’s a deliberate crawl. You’re paying for the privilege of being transported back to a time when travel was an ordeal.
The Controversy of Preservation
Keeping La Trochita running isn't easy or cheap. There have been countless times where the provincial government threatened to shut it down. It’s a massive drain on resources. The only reason it survives is its status as a National Historical Monument. But monuments are usually static. This one has moving parts that wear out.
There’s a tension between keeping it "original" and making it sustainable. Some purists hate the idea of any modernization. Others realize that without a steady stream of tourist dollars, the boilers will go cold for good. When you buy a ticket, you aren't just paying for a seat; you’re subsidizing the survival of 100-year-old German engineering in the middle of a desert.
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The locals in Esquel and El Maitén are fiercely proud of it. For them, it’s not a "tourist attraction." It’s their history. Many of the staff are second or third-generation railway workers. Their grandfathers built these tracks. They know every rattle and every whistle of the Old Patagonian Express.
What Most Travel Guides Get Wrong
They tell you it’s a "charming ride." It’s not. It’s loud. It’s bumpy. The seats are hard wood. If you have back problems, you’re going to feel every single joint in the track.
They also tell you the scenery is "breathtaking." That’s half-true. Some of it is spectacular, especially as you approach the mountains. But a lot of it is just flat, scrubby desert. The beauty is in the scale. The sheer, terrifying emptiness of Patagonia. If you’re looking for Alpine forests, you’re on the wrong train. This is the land of the "Great Alone."
How to Actually Visit the Old Patagonian Express
If you want to do this right, don't just fly into Esquel for a day. You’ll miss the point.
Start in San Carlos de Bariloche. Rent a car. Drive south on Route 40. The drive itself is legendary. Stop in El Bolsón for the microbreweries and the hippy vibe, then push on to El Maitén. This is where you get the "behind the scenes" look. The museum there is small but packed with artifacts—old telegraph machines, ledgers written in fading ink, and tools that look like they belong in a medieval torture chamber.
Then, head to Esquel. This is your base for the main tourist run. Esquel is a rugged town. It’s the gateway to Los Alerces National Park, which you should definitely visit while you’re in the area. The trees there are thousands of years old. They make the 1922 train look like a newborn baby.
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Understanding the Schedule
The schedule is a living document. It changes based on the season (high season is January/February) and the condition of the locomotives. You have to check the official La Trochita website or their Facebook page. Don't trust a guidebook from three years ago. It will be wrong.
Usually, the Esquel - Nahuel Pan run goes on Saturdays. In peak summer, they might add a Tuesday or Thursday run. If you’re lucky, you might catch a "charter" run. These are rare and usually organized by international rail enthusiast groups who pay a fortune to run the train on the longer, "forbidden" sections of the track.
The Cultural Weight of a Narrow Gauge Track
In Argentina, the railway is a symbol of a lost golden age. There was a time when the country had one of the best rail networks in the world. Then, in the 90s, much of it was privatized or simply abandoned. "Ramal que para, ramal que cierra" (A line that stops is a line that closes) was the mantra of the era.
La Trochita survived.
It became a symbol of resistance for the Patagonian people. They fought to keep it open when the government wanted to rip up the tracks for scrap metal. When you ride the Old Patagonian Express, you’re participating in that act of defiance. You’re helping prove that some things are worth keeping, even if they aren't "efficient."
The engine drivers are often happy to chat if you catch them during a water stop. They’ll talk about how the wind affects the steam pressure or how they have to clear snow drifts by hand in the winter. These are the stories you won't find in a glossy brochure.
Actionable Next Steps for Your Journey
If you’re serious about seeing the Old Patagonian Express, start by checking the current operational status through the Chubut Province rail office. Don't book your flights until you confirm the train is actually running during your window.
- Fly into Esquel (EQS) or Bariloche (BRC). Bariloche has more flight options, but it's a 4-hour drive to the train.
- Pack a high-quality dust mask. If you’re standing between carriages to take photos, the coal soot is brutal on the lungs.
- Stay in Esquel for at least 3 nights. This gives you a buffer in case of weather delays or mechanical "surprises."
- Visit the El Maitén workshops. It is the most authentic part of the experience, located about 130km north of Esquel.
- Combine the trip with Los Alerces. The park is only 50km from Esquel and offers some of the best hiking in the Southern Hemisphere.
The Old Patagonian Express isn't just a train ride. It’s a time machine that smells like coal and sounds like history. It’s uncomfortable, unpredictable, and completely essential for anyone who wants to understand the soul of Patagonia.