Where the Outlaw Lived: The Hunt for Butch Cassidy’s Ranch

 

The Legend of Butch Cassidy

When you’re a fugitive, with the best detective agency in the Americas on your trail, being 16 hundred miles from anywhere important is probably a good tactic.

It was 1901 when Butch Cassidy, the affable leader of the Wild Bunch gang, known for a streak of railroad heists and bank robberies in the American West, took his “winnings” to Argentina, a country that would cultivate a reputation for concealing notorious refugees. Seeking a quieter life, Cassidy and his two companions Henry Longbaugh (The Sundance Kid) and Etta Place (Sundance’s girlfriend and possible wife) settled in the town of Cholila at the base of the Andes known as the Pre-Corderrilla, near the Chilean border. There they bought a homestead and 12,000 acres of land, determined to go straight and lay low.

The Pinkerton Detective Agency, who had been after the gang in the United States, was not directly involved in tracking Cassidy to South America. Pinkerton could not close the deal to finance Butch’s capture. But by 1903 they knew his whereabouts in South America, and there was a bounty of $10,000 on the heads of the Wild Bunch.

The “family of 3” managed to scrape out a living with a few hundred cattle and a thousand sheep, becoming well-respected in the Corderrilla. But two factors made a peaceable life impossible. The first was the bounty. The second, of course, is that trouble finds troublemakers and after five years as a citizen, Butch reunited with some former “colleagues” who found their way to Cholila.

By 1905, the re-minted Wild Bunch was at it again, taking their act to a bank in Santa Cruz and two years later another bank in San Luis. With the increased scrutiny from law enforcement, it was time to go. Etta returned to the States while Butch sold the ranch and made for Bolivia with Sundance.

How the legendary outlaws died is a mystery. Historians favor the murder-suicide theory while the pair were trapped, surrounded by scores of soldiers, in Bolivia. Other legends have them meeting their fate in Uruguay. The most intriguing theory is that Butch faked his own death in Bolivia and simply went home to Utah. A credible account by Cassidy’s sister places him in Circleville, Utah in 1925 and later dying in Washington State. Unfortunately, all attempts to find his remains have failed.

The most popularized fiction has the men dying in a Bolivian firefight, trapped in a building and surrounded by the Bolivian Army. That’s the version told in the 1969 movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Tired, wounded, out of options, the men burst from the structure to meet their fate in a blaze of glory. If you haven’t seen the movie yet, it’s worth a watch. Ironically, however, the movie did not include the gang’s time in Argentina.

As is the nature of folk heroes, following his death, Cassidy could be found fraternizing with Pancho Villa in Mexico, driving model Ts through the American West, prospecting in Alaska, and touring San Francisco, probably with Elvis.

And the fate of the land? Although occupied as recently as 25 years ago by a Chilean family, today the Cassidy ranch is abandoned. Bruce Chatwin, in In Patagonia, described his own hunt for the Cassidy ranch in 1974. “The countryside had not changed much since the turn of the century. The cabins were in decay, but the structures still stood.” Although there isn’t much left today, fans of the movie would be enthralled by this site. That is certainly what drove me and Cyndy to track down the ranch. I wasn’t easy …

Crossing the Chilean - Argentine Border to Bariloche

The border crossing from Puerto Montt to Bariloche is 8 hours, partly because it takes a long time to get through two border crossings: one at Chile and another in Argentina. I have never seen such a border crossing. Each one takes an hour, at least. This turns out to be a more challenging passage than we originally expected. Taking a rental car across the border into Argentina is prohibitively expensive. Even “puddle jumper” service between the cities is absent. The least bad option seems to be a bus.

These are some pictures of the Argentine border with its towering mountains (and a flag), desiccated forests and motorcycle enthusiasts who drive through Patagonia. Mostly they come from Germany or France. We’re not sure why the forests were destroyed. Possibly from a volcano eruption about 10 years earlier.

On Our Way to San Carlos de Bariloche

San Carlos de Bariloche, or Bariloche, is a city in Argentine Patagonia, located at the edge of Nahuel Huapi National Park. Founded in 1902, it aimed to capitalize on the region’s natural beauty, attracting European immigrants, particularly from Germany and Switzerland, who influenced its distinctive Alpine-style architecture. The expansion of the Argentine railway system helped make Bariloche a popular tourist destination, especially for winter sports at Cerro Catedral, which opened in the 1930s.

The city also became notable during World War II, serving as a refuge for various expatriates, some with controversial backgrounds. Today, Bariloche is famous for its chocolate shops, vibrant food scene, and outdoor activities like hiking and skiing. With a population of around 100,000, it blends its rich history with a lively modern atmosphere, making it a captivating stop for those exploring Patagonia.

The bus finally got us to the charming tourist town of Bariloche. It sits along the glacial, alpine lake Nahuel Huapi. It is immense and absolutely pristine. It reminded me of Tahoe but prettier, deeper, bigger.

From there we picked up our rental car to begin the search for the ranch in Cholila, 3.5 hours south. They had bought the property with the money they made robbing banks in Montana and Utah. That was when The Union Pacific hired the Pinkerton Detective Agency to bring them in dead or alive. The bounty was over $10,000 for the two bank robbers. More on that later.

Late in the afternoon, we skirted the dusty road of Bariloche and headed South with Nahuel Huapi on our right. The sun was descending as we drove and made the Pre-cordillera mountains fierce and fiery. The sky felt like passion and love.

Very soon afterward, it was dark. Nothing buy us, the winding road and the occasional 18 wheeler.

Arrival in Cholila

Cholila was founded in the late 1800s, primarily as a settlement for settlers drawn to the region’s fertile land. The town became a key location for agriculture and livestock farming, which remain significant to its economy today. Throughout the early 20th century, it developed a reputation as a rugged frontier town. The surrounding area was once home to indigenous Mapuche communities, and remnants of their history can still be found. Cholila's remote location contributed to its slower development, allowing it to retain a more laid-back atmosphere compared to other Argentine towns. This blend of history and natural beauty continues to shape its identity today.

We arrived in the town of Cholila in the dead of night.

Our GPS told us to drive across 10 more miles of dirt roads to get to the place we’re staying - La Pilarica. Mostly fisherman go there to relax and fly fish the nearby river. Bill and Vivian run the place and were there when we arrived close to midnight. Bill had hand built the hostel 19 years ago and he and his wife run it. They did quite a job!

Through bits of Spanish and English Bill told me his family had come to the region early in the 20th century. His grandfather ran a mule team (160 mules) that hauled wool from Cholila to Puerto Madryn on the Atlantic coast. Nasty work. Bill said, he was known as the best mule team operator in southern Chile. And he probably knew Butch. Everyone did, because everyone in the town loved him, Etta and Sundance though they probably didn’t know who, precisely, they were, including the mayor and sheriff. One hundred and twenty years later later the town hasn’t changed much.

The Search for the Butch Cassidy Ranch

After breakfast provided by Bill and Vivian, we began searching for the outlaws. We passed some local gauchos down the road, waved and then bounce onto Cholila. We knew to look for the police because the ranch house is supposedly near by.

On the road outside of town, we found Cholila’s one local policeman. He seemed terrified to see me. I ask if he knew where Cassidy’s ranch was and he indicates up the road to the right but I don’t understand a word of detail and he doesn’t understand any of my English. “Donde esta casa de Butch Cassidy” is the best I can do. We continue into the pampa. See the video for more.

On the search we find a small ranch. I think maybe this is it. But it isn’t. A local, quite toothless but very helpful, sits with me. I suggest a map and we work on that, drawing pictures in the dirt. Then we head off again in a new direction. For miles we bounce along until we hit a creek too deep to risk fording in our little VW. As we prepare to head back, we run into some German tourists who speak English. They give us specific directions. And we head back another way much closer to the police station!! That’s me talking to them in their car.

Found Butch Cassidy’s!!!

We made it! Signs all around saying “Cassidy” confirm our hunch. The grounds are unattended, but we are helped along by arrows pointing to the closed, but inviting gate. We pass through to wander the remains.

The ranch features several original structures, including a main house built from sturdy timber and stone, reflecting practical construction. The house is simple, unadorned, with a sturdy porch offering sweeping views of the surrounding landscape, which is breathtaking. Inside, the layout is modest, with basic living spaces that would have accommodated Cassidy and his gang. It is mostly walls and spaces, however. Little remains besides the structures.

Other buildings on the site include old barns and stables, used for livestock and storage. I cannot tell which were for cattle and which were for horses. These buildings are showing signs of age, the wood weathering and the metal rusting. The remnants of corrals and fencing can still be seen, hinting at the ranch's functional past. It is not much different, I imagine, than what Chatwin saw nearly fifty years earlier.

Please watch the video series to take a stroll of the grounds and enjoy the photos below.

Full playlist of all videos from the Butch Cassidy ranch.

Pretty nice for 1901. Here are some still interiors of the living room, kitchen and a bedroom (I think).

Departing the Ranch

Afterwards we find a bar nearby that has a museum loaded with details about the ranch and the Hole in the Wall Gang that Butch Cassidy ran. That’s where you see the color video of Butch bottom right and Sundance bottom left. The other picture gives you a view of the mountains from the ranch. Looks a lot like Montana where Cassidy grew up. It’s easy to see why Butch would have liked it here.

I am catching up on some notes about tracking down the ranch that Butch Cassidy, the Sundance kid and Etta Place bought in Argentina after they were forced to leave the United States when they robbed so many banks and trains that an elite private posse was created to them down. They bought the ranch in 1901 and lived there five and seven years give or take. They actually became real citizens in the small town of Cholila, Argentina. They knew the mayor and became friends with a former sheriff from Montana (possibly inspired by the sheriff they meet in the movie). They lived a relatively quiet life - until some of the posse began to get close. At the time there was a bounty on each of their heads of $10,000 which was an enormously high price in those days. They sold the ranch, Etta Place returned to the United States, and Butch and Harry (the Sundance kid) headed north to Bolivia. Their time living in Argentina at the ranch isn’t mentioned in the famous movie Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid but they did eventually work in a mine in Bolivia and they may have robbed that mine, or they finally went back and made a big bank robbery in Bolivia and that was win the Banditos Yanquees were gunned down in that country. Or at least that’s what most people think. But some say that both survived and Butch Cassidy’s sister swears that her brother came back and visited her in Montana in the 1930s.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid - 1969 Movie

 

Of course, our inspiration for taking this side quest into Cholila comes from the love of both history and western cinema that naturally includes the 1969 Butch Cassidy film. If you enjoy stories of outlaws, the wild west, gangs, and heists, it’s probably your kind of movie too. Our contributor Drew Moniot (of Drew’s Reviews) kindly agreed to review of the film for us. Read his review of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and then go watch the movie again!

Lovers of cinema, history and the wild west will also enjoy our Dispatches from Deadwood, South Dakota and Monument Valley, in particular (plus all of those in between). We talk about gunfighters and movie magic. Please check those out.

Recommendations

If you’re planning a trip to Cholila (and check out the Cassidy ranch for yourself), or anywhere else in Patagonia, we have many recommendations for you to consider. These are all personally recommended from our own experience. And please see the full list of our travel recommendations from around the world or these recommendations exclusively for Patagonia.

Resource: https://vagabond-adventure.com/library/the-hunt-for-butch-cassidys-ranch-in-cholila-argentina

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Women Who Explore Inspiring Travel Books

 The explorations of women have never gotten their proper due, and it’s time that changed. Women have partaken in some of the most spectacular exploratory feats in history. I realized I failed to make that point in my earlier article The 10 Greatest Travel Adventure Books of All Time, terrific as those books are. This article is a small attempt to remedy that shortcoming. 

See more: https://vagabond-adventure.com/library/best-womens-travel-books

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Riding the El Chepe Express: A Scenic Journey Through Copper Canyon

 

Boarding El Chepe Express

We were excited about boarding El Chepe Express. We had heard and read plenty about it. But getting our ticket and then getting on the train was work. It can be this way in Mexico. When we attempted to buy our tickets online while still in Baja, the Chepe website was a disaster even though we followed every rule (in Spanish) to the letter (perhaps this was the problem?).  Finally I called FerroMex, El Chepe’s rail company, and after many entanglements with our misaligned languages managed to get an email that proved we had paid for our tickets. But did we actually HAVE a ticket?  I wasn’t sure.

Nevertheless, here we were now in the city of Los Mochis, determined to board the train that the marketing brochures wrote would take us through “350 km (220 miles) [passing] Sinaloa up to Creel, into the heart of the Sierra Tarahumara, passing through the majestic Copper Canyon.” The trip would take 9 hours. We would rise 8,000 feet to the land of the Tarahumara people, famous for their ability to run extraordinary distances up and down the mountains. While researching my book Thumbs, Toes and Tears, I had learned that when hunting these native people could run deer down until the animals collapsed.

That morning, a glum taxi driver had juddered us through the dawn light grossly overcharging us before we and our bags were deposited outside the Los Mochis train depot. It was cool and humid. Brooding clouds slowly crept across the sky. At 7:15 the FerroMex-operated Estacion opened. A man dressed smartly in a FerroMex uniform herded passengers with boletos (tickets) into one line, and everyone else in another.  But which line did we belong in? We didn’t exactly have a ticket, but we had payment confirmation. The uniformed agent waved away our concerns. We would be fine; just board when we got the word.

But a few minutes later the train’s conductor, in Spanglish, clarified that we did need tickets. Dutifully, I lined up while Cyn held the fort with our bags. Six people stood in front of us. Departure in 45 minutes. 

We waited. The line was moving at a glacial pace. Evil thoughts began to arise in my mind. We had come several hundred miles out of our way to board this train and didn’t want to miss it, and if we did we were pretty sure that getting our money back would be a nightmare. I fervently wished I was fluent in Spanish. Why couldn’t I make the sounds I needed to make to solve the problems I wanted to solve? The voice in my head spoke: Control what you can. Let the rest go.

A father with two boys and his wife was in the same boat as we were.  He was Mexican, but had worked several years in Texas and spoke excellent English. He had paid for the ride and like us had the proof right there on his cell phone, but he too was told he needed tickets. Now it was 7:30 and a mere two people had moved down the line. The glacial pace, it turns out, was thanks to a FerroMex employee at the ticket counter who was regaling each buyer, in minute detail, about the train’s many amenities.

Our friend was thinking the same thoughts I was. He snagged another railway agent who looked to be in charge and urgently explained our situation. Yes, we still need tickets, she answered in Spanish. Our friend tilted his head in the direction of the ticket agent making the point that we can’t get tickets unless we get through the line before the train departs. She seemed unconcerned, but walked to the ticketmistress and told her to move things along. Six people have now joined the line behind us and four are still in front.

At 7:50 the family in front of us finally makes it to the counter. A pantomime unfolds. The father speaks to the ticket agent. Rapid Spanish ensues.  He holds up his phone. More head waggling on both sides of the plexiglass.  Tick-tock. I can feel things are getting heated. Now the man’s wife enters the picture. She offers the agent encouragement.  Heads begin to nod. Finally the ticketmistress picks up the phone and a minute later she is printing their tickets. Done! I take solace in this. Now that this nice man and his wife have plowed the bureaucratic road for us surely Cyn and I will breeze through.

I step to the counter and show her the email on my phone.

“You must forward your email to to FerroMex,” she says in Spanglish, “and then they will issue her permission to print us a ticket. I jab a finger at my watch.

"No tiempo!” I say, voice rising.

Again, I thrust my phone up to the plexiglass and point at the 8400 pesos (about $500) noted in the email when the mother of the family in front of us re-enters the conversation, earnestly speaking through the plexiglass to the ticketmistress. I love her. In my mind I think of her as “The Virgin Mother of Los Mochis.”  It's now 7:53. Seven minutes and the great Chepe will be gone.

Cyndy sits stoically 50 feet away beside our bags in the now empty train station. By now nearly everyone has boarded. The Mother of Los Mochis implores the agent in Spanish so rapid I cannot possibly comprehend it. Then suddenly, the wife turns, smiling and gives me a thumbs up.

"It's good!"  She says.

“Muchas gracias!” I blurted. I wanted to embrace her. For every difficult human, there are always several good ones.  An instant later we had our tickets in hand. I turned to thank the Virgin Mother, but she and her family had already disapparated.  Was this a miracle?

Cyn and I wheeled away with our bags, tossed them to a waiting porter and bound onto the Premiere Class coach in search of our seats. We plopped down, and then with a bang, the engine of the mighty Chepe began to haul us out of the station precisely on time.   

I grinned at Cyn. “After all of that,” I said, “this better be good!”

Departing Los Mochis

The train’s windows are broad, made to reveal the views. We watched its 12 cars pull us through an immense garbage dump. This didn’t look promising, but trains everywhere travel through the backsides of cities and the views are rarely stunning. We gathered speed and watched shanties fashioned from whatever people have been able to find — cardboard, plasterboard, tarps, plywood, plastic — parade by. White circular tubs stood outside, a flat square of dirt where people can wash. Little flags of plastic or cloth provide a morsel of privacy as the train slides by. Here and there skeletal corrals of old wood teeter in the dirt. A few chickens peck in the dust, an emaciated goat or two munches on tiny clusters of grass, while hand washed clothes hang languidly in the humid breeze and a single rooster patrols a little dirt yard, wings spread, squawking a clear message to all chickens that he is boss. I am reminded of John Steinbeck's descriptions in Grapes of Wrath of the shanty towns during the American Depression.

A few moments more and I witnessed an image that will always remain with me: a solitary young man, maybe 21-years-old, tall, slim with dark hair, raggedly dressed. His paper COVID mask was strapped on his ears as he stood unmoving and unmoved amidst 100 yards of garbage and tumbling plastic bags, gazing blankly into the wreckage. What thoughts, I wondered was he thinking? What dreams did he dream? What dreams was he allowed to dream? And then the train moved on.

As we gathered speed the level of homes upgraded. Slowly the boarded slats and plywood houses we had been looking at morphed into small enclosed yards with porticos and cement walls and proper rooms capped with red corrugated roofs. Ranches began to appear as we came into the foothills, small brick buildings among scrub, rock, cactus, dry arroyos, dust and hard chunks of grass. A cowboy on his horse clopped through a flat plain of dry prairie grass, his battered straw hat swatting at a few horses and brahmin cows as he herded them into a nearby corral.

In time we broke into broad rows of corn filling the plains through which the train resolutely passed. Before the day was done, the train would haul us into canyons the guide books told us were five times the size of the Grand Canyon. It swayed left and right, but its progress was steady as we moved towards the beckoning Sierra Madre. I thought if there was one set of tracks that would be carefully maintained, it would be this one. The express was the most popular attraction in northern Mexico, and it brought tourists in by the hundreds of thousands each year. Now that COVID seemed to finally be abating, the income was deeply appreciated.

Life On Board Chepe

El Chepe’s Premiere Class passenger coach offered a startling counterpoint to the world through which the train passed. It was indeed first class, recently renovated we were told. Leather chairs throughout, brown leather cloth and metal scones for lighting, a linen like ceiling with more recessed lighting, tan with valances recalling the fine Spanish architecture of the old days, and an entire car devoted to anyone who wanted a drink in the first class section. In the bar car all of the big windows had been opened and the train now chugged up the mountains through fresh, cool air while the patrons helped themselves to drinks and had the party going strong by 10:30 am.   

In all of our experience in Mexico, we had never run into anyone who was unkind or the least bit bad-tempered. That changed on the Chepe. The surliest people that we came across were those riding in Premier class. Many of them considered themselves wealthy, entitled to be loud, rude, insistent on their constant care for the battalion of servers on board, seemingly unaware of the poverty around them or even feeling superior because of it. They would order drinks and food and toss away their trash and expect someone else to take care of it which the servers dutifully did.  I wondered if sometimes I acted like this, being just as thoughtless, entirely unaware that I too was a jerk. If so I could only hope this trip would help humble me, help me realize how truly we are all in the same boat and at least deserve an equal shot.  But everywhere it was so clear that so many did not get equal shots and yet they seemed to continue with a smile on their face, working hard, themselves humble and perfectly happy with the state of their lives. Had I been born into those circumstances, I wondered, would I feel the same?

Climbing Into Copper Canyon

Now the views of the river plain below became stunning. We crossed over one of the highest train trestles in the world, the river valley gaping hundreds of feet below. Onward El Chepe rocked, always higher; we rose amongst cliffs of hanging trees and flowers of vivid yellow, pink and periwinkle. We were leaving civilization. In time a broad snaking river appeared, tumbling out the mountains, the Septentrion, which means “going to the ocean.” It seemed to be in a hurry.

For a few hours the rails followed the channel the Septentrion had formed over the epochs. The higher we ascended green rather than brown became the color of choice - pine (Tule) and White Stick trees, Huisache and Jute bushes. The river became a chasm filled with rocks the size of small homes, igneous domes toppled from the ragged cliffs above.

Despite rocking and rolling upward, a small battalion of waiters with perfect, gleaming teeth glided through the aisles carrying platters of snacks and wine, mojitos or tequila from one car to the next. The service was impeccable and we were often asked if we needed anything. Lunch would be served in the dining car around noon and we chose chicken soup with light Seminola and three small roasted pork chops in green sauce.

Higher … now the turns grew sharper, twisting the train into taut switchbacks, and El Chepe made every noise a machine could make, cracking, clapping and rattling, screeching and hissing on its beds, but it never wavered in its journey. Soon the canyon walls approached like closing, volcanic hands, sometimes no more than 10 feet from our window.  Rail workers had had to blast through every one of the railway’s 27 bridges and 86 tunnels to take us on this route. It was truly one of the world’s great engineering feats. The idea for the railroad was inspired when Mexico granted a rail concession to Albert Kinsey Owen, founder of the Utopia Socialist Colony in New Harmony, Indiana. Owen’s goal was to build a socialist colony in Mexico and he needed a way to get people there. Owen’s dream didn’t come true, but Arthur Stilwell who ran a company called the Kansas City, Mexico and Orient Railway began construction in 1900. The route was so rugged, so challenging that last rail wasn’t laid to its terminus in Chihuahua until 1961.

Now the train’s big blue engine began snaking us through fresh stands of pine, and as we approached late afternoon the train seemed to level off a bit. We didn’t see the immense canyon walls you see in the Grand Canyon, there are too many trees, but the canyons are there, and we would catch glimpses, thick with forest hanging along the immense ravines.

Despite rocking and rolling upward, a small battalion of waiters with perfect, gleaming teeth glided through the aisles carrying platters of snacks and wine, mojitos or tequila from one car to the next. The service was impeccable and we were often asked if we needed anything. Lunch would be served in the dining car around noon and we chose chicken soup with light Seminola and three small roasted pork chops in green sauce.

Higher … now the turns grew sharper, twisting the train into taut switchbacks, and El Chepe made every noise a machine could make, cracking, clapping and rattling, screeching and hissing on its beds, but it never wavered in its journey. Soon the canyon walls approached like closing, volcanic hands, sometimes no more than 10 feet from our window.  Rail workers had had to blast through every one of the railway’s 27 bridges and 86 tunnels to take us on this route. It was truly one of the world’s great engineering feats. The idea for the railroad was inspired when Mexico granted a rail concession to Albert Kinsey Owen, founder of the Utopia Socialist Colony in New Harmony, Indiana. Owen’s goal was to build a socialist colony in Mexico and he needed a way to get people there. Owen’s dream didn’t come true, but Arthur Stilwell who ran a company called the Kansas City, Mexico and Orient Railway began construction in 1900. The route was so rugged, so challenging that last rail wasn’t laid to its terminus in Chihuahua until 1961.

Now the train’s big blue engine began snaking us through fresh stands of pine, and as we approached late afternoon the train seemed to level off a bit. We didn’t see the immense canyon walls you see in the Grand Canyon, there are too many trees, but the canyons are there, and we would catch glimpses, thick with forest hanging along the immense ravines.

FAQ

Q1: Where does the El Chepe Express route begin and end?

A: The El Chepe Express runs between Creel, Chihuahua and Los Mochis, Sinaloa, passing through the heart of Mexico’s Copper Canyon. Most travelers ride from Creel to El Fuerte, or vice versa, to capture the most stunning scenery without committing to the entire 9-hour journey. The full El Chepe Express route between Creel and Los Mochis takes approximately 9 hours, though it can vary depending on the number of scenic stops and dwell time at stations. Shorter segments, like Divisadero to Bahuichivo or El Fuerte to Divisadero, offer gorgeous views in 3 to 5 hours.

Q2: What kind of travelers ride El Chepe Express?

A: You’ll find a mix of Mexican families, older tourists, and intrepid travelers, especially in Clase Turista (Tourist Class). The vibe is more low-key than luxury trains in Europe or Japan — but it’s authentic, unhurried, and social. Passenger behavior varied sharply by class. While many travelers were quiet, kind, and respectful — especially the servers and working-class passengers — those riding in Premier class were often loud, entitled, and dismissive of others.

Q3: What is the experience like on board El Chepe Express?

A: On our ride, the train was comfortable, clean, and modern, with huge windows, friendly staff, and surprisingly smooth rail. The food and drink options were solid (think sandwiches and beer), and the onboard vibe was relaxed — part transit, part sightseeing.

Q4: Is getting tickets for the El Chepe Express complicated?

A: It can be. Even with a payment confirmation in hand, travelers may still face confusion and delays when converting proof of purchase into actual tickets — especially at the station in Los Mochis. We had paid 8,400 pesos online but were still asked to line up again and submit the email confirmation to FerroMex before tickets could be printed. The process was glacially slow due to a chatty agent and unclear protocol.

Resource: https://vagabond-adventure.com/library/riding-el-chepe-express-through-mexico-copper-canyon

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Arctic Secrets: A Trip to the Svalbard Global Seed Vault

The Global Seed Vault up close

This wild place we are visiting goes by multiple names and that can be confounding. The archipelago was once named Spitzbergen, but now it's known as Svalbard (apparently a treaty was involved). Only the largest island is called Spitzbergen these days. The largest city on that island is called Longyearbyen, and that is where we and our cold noses stood at the moment. I've shared a video that gives you a glimpse of it all.

Longyearbyen is the home to the Svalbard Global Seed Bank, created as a backup to ensure the human race preserves the world's crop diversity. The idea is to provide long-term storage of duplicate seeds from around the world in case of war, disaster, plague or other forms of armageddon. If rebuilding is necessary, this will provide a lot of what is needed to get us all up and running again.

There's not much to see and no one is allowed in, unless you work there. Nevertheless, here we were and I wanted to see it. Since a rifle was required to hike up to the vault, we took a bus in the interest of not having me shooting everything but a bear. We were lucky to find it open with a fresh supply of seeds from India and Africa coming in. This almost never happens.

A TV team from Spain thought this was big enough deal that it was covering it for the news or a documentary. As we stood standing in the frigid air, I caught a few pictures and videos of thousands of the husks being hauled into the vault's entrance, which is nothing more than a slit of metal that burrows deep into the mountain where the bank sits, far from any disasters that might taint or damage it.

Boating Around Longyearbyen’s Harbor

Back at sea-level we visited the North Pole Expedition Museum, dedicated to all things Svalbard and loaded with fascinating bits of information about famous polar expeditions. I learned for the first time that Roald Amundsen was not only the first human to reach the South Pole but was the first to cross over the North Pole, by dirigible! We felt a slight kinship with him since we had just covered nearly 12,000 miles getting from Antarctica the previous February clear to the opposite end of the planet, all without ever traveling by jet, well, except for this one last leg.

We ended the day boarding a ship that would take us beyond Longyearbyen's harbor and then back. It felt like evening, but it was really mid afternoon. The sun was already low in the sky and descending fast.

As we skated out of the channel, I could only describe the land around us as an awful beauty, barren and forbidding, a place as stunning, and as alien as any on Earth with gargantuan mountains that rose up all around.

With the sun dying, we passed immense buildings that looked like ancient coal plants, tiny against the immense mountains. This was Barentsburg, one of Spitzbergen's remaining Russian coal towns with a population of about 400 Russian and Ukranian workers, though the word now was most of the Ukranians had departed once Russia invaded their nation. From our ship, the buildings looked abandoned, on their last legs, and maybe they were.

Soon the enormous mountains, 1000 to 2000 feet of rock as smooth and hard as anthracite grew dark against the orange and pink of the setting sun, gouged by epochs of ferocious winds, rain and snow.

Sam, our guide, a big, bearded marine biologist from Minnesota who was celebrating his last day on the job told us the hottest air temperature of the year is 50º F in these parts, and so the sea ice is melting rapidly, and that's a problem because one of the things that keep the earth's temperature in a reasonable range is because bright snow and ice reflect sunlight away from the planet. This is known as the albedo effect. As snow and ice melts the planet grows darker and therefore absorbs more of the sun's heat, accelerating the loss of still more ice and snow. Case in point, last summer was the first time there was no ice in the Longyearbyen harbor. "The Arctic," Sam told us, "is the energy system that drives every ocean current in the world." And if goes south (so to speak), it won't be good. Meanwhile he pointed out that with the warming of the north pole, polar bears were struggling. There were about 5000 in the planet's Northernmost regions. About 2500 lived around Franz Joseph Island, the only land farther north than Svalbard, and on Svalbard itself a mere 675 were managing to hang on, for now.

After Sam finished his presentations, I walked to the prow of the ship feeling melancholy. I gazed a long time at the unearthly evening as it descended and found my mind wandering toward the ways the world might be coming apart. Seed vaults as insurance against disaster, the proof around us of climate growing increasingly unhinged, too many people and too much war in Ukraine and the Middle East, along with 39 other murderous conflicts by last count. I thought about it.

It was hard to shake the feeling that we might not survive ourselves, but I still remained optimistic. Surely we would figure out that turning on ourselves and our own, our only, planet was senseless and our disputes tiny. Though it might feel like we were doing worse, all of the indicators were that we are, in fact, far less violent and stupid than we have been in the past.

I looked at what remained of the spectacular sun that had just slipped beyond the lip of the planet's cap and took some solace knowing that the planet had survived far worse than anything we could dish out and would do just fine. The bigger question was, would we?

Resource: https://vagabond-adventure.com/vagabond-journal/vagabond-adventure-day-633-longyearbyen-global-seed-vault-and-harbor-boating

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10 Great Things to Do in Patagonia for an Unforgettable Adventure

 

Sprawled across the southernmost tip of South America, far away from the cramped and entangled cities of North America, lies Patagonia. It’s a big unspoiled wilderness, an antidote to urban life, and, unless you’ve lost your senses entirely, or your last sliver of curiosity, it will captivate you. Monstrous glaciers, spectacular and unique wildlife (condors to guanaco), towering Andean peaks that run down the region’s spine, and on either side its endless pampas and shimmering lakes. If you want heat, Patagonia will deliver that, or bitter cold, and winds that will knock you sideways.

You can hike the world-renowned Torres del Paine National Park, marvel at the imposing Perito Moreno Glacier, or lose yourself in the wild serenity of Tierra del Fuego, a land Charles Darwin explored 150 years ago. And, if you’re up for it, there are plenty of exciting ways to get well off the beaten path: kayaking, white-water rafting, horseback-riding, week long hikes into the wilderness, even ice-climbing on Patagonia’s glacier fields. It’s an enormous place that spans two nations and reaches to the South Ocean and some of the most ferocious seas on earth. All you have to do is get there.

I first entered Patagonia from the northwest, heading from Peru to make my way down Chile’s coast to the town of Puerto Montt.  There I had booked passage on a ferry called Navimag that would take me to Puerto Natales, Patagonia’s southern gateway. I had heard about it during my cruise from Miami to Lima over dinner with an inveterate traveler named Mike, a man who had already scrambled into and around 100 of Earth’s countries.

For five days Navimag coasted me, my wife Cyndy and about 100 other truckers, sailors, travelers and locals through the vast archipelago. I had never seen any part of the world that looked like this — the sea, immense mountain islands, fiery sunsets, a luminescent full moon, all as majestic as anything earthly could be. I struggled to hold it all in my mind because I knew no words could ever do the experience the remotest justice. In one stroke I realized how fortunate I was to witness this, and how sad to know I would leave it behind.

Patagonia still feels like a frontier, even as its few cities are slowly encroaching upon the wilderness. Sheep roam the steppes nourishing the wool industry that has long been the backbone of the economy, guanaco lope freely, condors arc and sweep across the broad sky in search of dinner, and if you’re lucky enough you may come across a pride of wary Puma. There is history too. Ancient native peoples — the Tehuelche, Yaghan, Ona, Haush and Alacaluf — thrived in these wild places for millennia before the expeditions of Juan Diaz del Solis, Magellan, Robert Fitzroy and others wiped them out. Descendants of these native people, their names and heritage nearly forgotten, now blend into a population of ethnic German, Croatian, English, Criollo, and Mestizo peoples.

Patagonia’s beauty, history and isolation, of course, are the very forces that are expanding the region’s tourism so if you are looking to get off the beaten path, make your move now. Unplug, find solace in the vastness of this place and marvel at its profound silence and unspoiled beauty … at least when the winds aren’t howling.

Here are ten great ways to do it …

1. Lose Yourself in Torres del Paine National Park

The crown jewel of Patagonia. Named for its three famous blue towers the Torres claw their way out of the earth and swallow the sky. The mountains are 60 million year old, igneous rocks that emerged when the magma chamber below bulged upward cooling into a gargantuan hump. The advance and retreat of glaciers over the eons created the immense beasts we see today. They are the sine qua non of Patagonian exploration. Along with the glaciers, valleys, lakes and rivers that surround them, the towers are so big and powerful they generate their own weather.  Together they offer all the adventure you need. Hiking, climbing, horseback riding, kayaking, and more!

Other highlights include Gray Glacier, Cuernos del Paine, and Lake Pehoé. You could easily spend weeks exploring the park. Wildlife lovers will enjoy the guanaco herds grazing on the plains and soaring condors floating on the mountain’s thermal winds.

For visitors there are many available hikes through the park, both leisurely and brutal. Those with time on their hands should consider the O Circuit, a 6-10 day adventure looping around the Cordillera del Paine. This is a challenging hike across 66 miles (110 km). The W Trek is the most popular portion of the O Circuit, taking about half the time to traverse. The W can even be completed without food or equipment, taking advantage of the many campsites along the route.

The Hosteria del Torres is a charming place to stay. There is also the Grey Lake Hotel. For food, consider the Pampa Lodge, Hostería del Torres or Grey Lake.

2. Cruise Tierra del Fuego and Stand at the Tip of Cape Horn

The archipelago across the Strait of Magellan is the southernmost tip of South America. Shared by both Chile and Argentina, the island chain has been inhabited for over 8,000 years. But here, today, the land is nearly empty. This is truly the definition of nowhere, but it’s not easy to get there. Australis operates a five day expedition from Punta Arenas through the islands, pausing to visit some of the most stunning and remote places on Earth. This is where a young Charles Darwin cut his teeth on evolutionary science and the region is filled with stories of adventure and death, from interactions with the native Yahgan and Fuegian people and hair-raising nautical adventures experienced by the likes of Sir Francis Drake, Ferdinand Magellan and Ernest Shackleton.

Australis Zodiacs take hikers from the ship to wild sites that very few people have seen, including a hike to Cape Horn (weather permitting), the southernmost bit of South America. Standing by its single red lighthouse you can imagine Magellan’s fleet sailing past, led by Trinidad. The weather is cold, rarely higher than 45°F in the summer. You won’t find much at the Cape, but visitors will see a tiny chapel and functioning lighthouse and a battered metal sculpture to visit. Enjoy the 270 step hike to the Horn’s highest peak. Unfortunately, the native Yaghan people are gone. Aside from a few Chileans, visitors will only encounter the people you’ve met on the cruise.

Another Australis highlight takes passengers through Glacier Alley fjord offering magnificent views of five tidewater glaciers extending their great tongues of ice from craggy valleys to the waters below.

3. Ferry on the Navimag

Navimag operates a round trip ferry system through the Chilean fjords between Puerto Montt and Puerto Natales. This is transport for both locals and serious travelers. The riders hail from all around the world on weeks and month-long excursions to discover some of the most remote locations in the world. These ferries curate a collection of books and movies which, along with shipboard activities, can teach you about Chilean history and culture. Multilingual guides are onboard during the high season from October to April. There’s a charming little, glass-enclosed lounge for reading, daydreaming, conversation and beverages. A great place to pass the time, but not too much. You want to be outside as much as possible.

I enjoyed the cruise on Navimag’s newest vessel, Esperanza, with room for 244 passengers in spacious, but spartan accommodations. The cabins are shared among four or more riders, but two can buy out the whole cabin at a reasonable price. Common activity space is limited. You’ll find a not terribly usable gym, yoga room, and the lounge. Food is served cafeteria style three times a day. It’s good and there’s plenty of it, but it’s the conversations you have at the big tables while eating that are the real bonuses.

The ride is usually four days, but it took five when I made the trip. Sustained winds of 40 mph made it impossible for the ship to wrestle its way to the harbor so we anchored an additional full day. This is not uncommon for this voyage so make sure you have a flexible schedule. Riders can count on Patagonian winds to keep them alert across 10 degrees of southern latitude: 41°S to 51°S. That’s the origin of the saying, “Below 40º (of latitude) there is no law. Below 50º there is no God.”

4. Take a Hike Above Laguna Sofia

Laguna Sofia is about 30 minutes from Puerto Natales and you can reach it via a brand new highway. It may be one of the most underrated destinations in Patagonia. On this day-trek, you’ll climb several hundred vertical feet through grass and trees into scree to a promontory high above the lagoon. Beyond that lay rocky cliffs and snow-capped mountains in every direction. You might even be lucky enough to see a condor perched nearby. The winds, as usual, are out in force, powerful enough to knock you over. A side bonus: unlike other hikes in the Torres area, you can usually expect this one to be deserted.

5. Explore San Carlos de Bariloche

San Carlos de Bariloche is a charming tourist town with a striking resemblance to the Swiss Alps, tucked along the immense and pristine alpine lake Nahuel Huali. If you’re entering Patagonia from the north, Bariloche is a spectacular way to do it. Enjoy it for its scenery, hiking, winter skiing and upscale amenities. Besides the Alpine feel, the town itself underwent a tourism renaissance in the 1930s that added Swiss architectural touches to the town’s architecture. Even its chocolate is famous.   

The region has a strange history too. Bariloche was a refuge for Nazis escaping Europe following World War II. Argentine president Juan Péron was a known Nazi sympathizer who courted European dictators. One legend has it that Hitler faked his death and fled with Eva Braun to Bariloche.

6. Tour Ushuaia

Long regarded as the worlds southernmost city, with protestations from its much smaller Chilean neighbor, Puerto Williams, Ushuaia, also known as the “End of the World” is the capital of Tierra del Fuego province. Dress warm. The climate is an ocean moderated sub polar mild tundra; just a fancy way of calling it “cold.” If you’re looking for counterparts, think of Anchorage, Alaska, Reykjavik, Iceland, and Nuuk Nuuk, Greenland. But don’t let this keep you home.

Ushuaia’s breathtaking landscapes rival any on Earth, with snow-capped peaks, pristine glaciers and sparkling fjords surrounding the city. And it’s the launch point for adventures throughout Tierra del Fuego and beyond. Tierra del Fuego National Park, Martillo Island, and the Beagle Channel are reachable by ship. For those who love winter sports, this is your place. Skiing and ice hockey are immensely popular. The ski resort at Cerro Castor has the longest season in South America, thanks to that sub polar climate.

The End of the World Train takes visitors from Ushuaia on a two hour scenic tour of Tierra del Fuego National Park. The steam railway once transferred Ushuaia’s prisoners into forests where they harvested the lumber that built both the city and the prison in which they lived, the original reason the town was created!

For food, visit warm and vibrant La Parrilla Restaurant, famous for its flame roasted lamb. Hosteria Restaurante America is a good mid-range option for lodging, but if you want more upscale digs, consider the Albatros Hotel.

7. Visit Cueva del Milodón Natural Monument

The huge Mylodon sloths, enormous beasts up to 12 feet tall that roamed the Patagonian landscape thousands of years ago, were the inspiration for Bruce Chatwin’s famous book, In Patagonia. Mylodons’ and their hairy coats were first discovered and cataloged by Darwin during his time with HMS Beagle. Although mylodon extinction is attributed to multiple factors, their disappearance also coincided with the arrival of certain two-legged pack hunter 11,000 years ago.

Cueva del Milodón is located near Puerto Natales. It is not a single cave, but a complex of three, each with a different character. The largest and most popular, Cueva Grande, is impressive for its size and its notoriety for Mylodon preservation. Equally compelling, for different reasons, are the other caves. Cueva del Medio sheltered humans over 11,000 years ago under a less forgiving climate, while the third cave, Cueva Chica, is deeper and darker than the other two. Spelunkers will enjoy exploring Chica’s nooks and crannies.

8. Hunt Down Butch Cassidy’s Ranch

Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid is a classic American western tale (and Oscar-winning movie). Outlaws Butch Cassidy, Harry Longabaugh and Etta Place, strike it rich ripping off banks and trains in the Western United States until a special posse is sent to hunt them down. They collect their loot, escape to the remote South American plains and buy an 800 acre ranch, determined to go straight. For several years they do, but then they are found out. They sell the ranch and eventually (after Etta departs) the bank robbing begins again. Their fate isn’t as clear as the movies might tell you, but their Patagonian estate in Cholila, just a few hours from Bariloche still stands and is a fine place to explore. So is the bar just a half mile from the bandits’ old house, filled with fascinating paraphernalia and excellent beer and empanadas.

9. Hike Los Glacieres Parque Nationale

Most of epic Patagonia can be experienced from the Chilean side of the Andes. But this Argentinian gem is an exception. Los Glacieres is an immense ice field, one of the largest in the world, feeding hundreds of glaciers throughout the region. The geography has created two distinct areas for adventurers. To the north are the Viedma lake and glacier, along with Mount Fitzroy and Cerro Torre, popular for hikers and climbers. Perito Moreno Glacier, one of the most popular attractions in Argentina can be found to the south, its channel draining into Lago Argentino. Perito Moreno stubbornly resists the warming trend that weakens its glacial siblings; gains and losses are in equilibrium for the time being. Visitors can join tours, ride horseback, camp, fish, and more.

10. Bust a Bronco in Cerro Castillo

You’ll recognize Cerro Castillo by the towering sculpture of a rearing horse at the big roundabout on the town’s outskirts. Perhaps its proximity to Torres del Paine is the reason, but this town has its own western charm. It has a long history in the wool shearing trade that remains a big part of the economy. Mule trains once carried wool across the pampas to Puerto Madryn. The town is also famous for its annual bronco busting horse festivals, called “Jineteadas.” The Jineteadas are divided into several parts throughout the year, one each weekend per month from December to March, where the local gauchos, Patagonian cowboys, compete. Time your visit accordingly to catch one of these great events.

There aren’t many places to stay, but we enjoyed the modest Riverline Lodge. Cozy rooms and a fine local restaurant.

Video - John Fedele

Explore Further

Read about the extensive travels of my Vagabond-Adventure through Patagonia in the Vagabond Journal and our journey around the world traveling all seven continents, never by jet, at Vagabond-Adventure.com.

For more suggestions, including additional information about the services and experiences throughout Patagonia, visit our Patagonian Recommendations. Recommendations are updated frequently. Leave any questions in the comments below or contact the Vagabond-Adventure to learn more. Travelers looking for expert guidance will want to contract with a local expert. I am grateful for the services of Luciano Galvez Martinez who did a wonderful job helping us through this vast land. He grew up in Puerto Natales, speaks excellent English and immensely knowledgeable.

Resource: https://vagabond-adventure.com/library/exploring-patagonia-ten-great-ways-to-experience-patagonia-with-recommendations

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