Fell Locomotive Museum (Featherson, NZ)

Trains are often depicted as heroes.

Thomas.
Chuggington.
Choo. Choo.

Nobody doesn’t love train rides. Anyone who claims otherwise is lying. When I was in college I knew a guy called “Chooch.” Trains are inherently interesting to everyone and for a good reason. The romance! The unparalleled ability to move stuff! The metaphor for determination!

The extraordinary specificity of the local museum!

Which brings us to Featherson and the Remutaka Range (this is the acknowledged spelling, although you will still see it spelled Rimutaka in places). Construction on the railway was authorized in 1871. The site for the Remutaka Incline had a gradient that was, in technical terms, “steep AF.”

As seen here.

The system chosen to get trains up and over the incline was that of the Fell locomotive. It was arduous and slow but ran from 1877 to 1955. And the Fell Locomotive Museum is in possession of one of the six Fell locomotives that served the line, and now the only Fell locomotive in the world. It’s been restored enough to demonstrate its movements, which you can see here with the power of your imagination (I do have a video but I refuse to upgrade my WordPress account at this time).

chugga chugga chugga chugga

The museum has been nicely funded, and the exhibits include a model of the railworkers’ settlement and film of the train and workers in action. Mr. Exhibitist felt the film was perhaps a rosy presentation of what was an extremely isolated lifestyle for the workers’ families, but it is very nicely done.

As long as you didn’t have any sort of urgent need because there was everything was a slow, arduous train ride away.

Various artifacts of the rail line (there is still a train running through Featherson, but not on the Incline–the Fell locomotives and the line they ran on were taken out of service when the tunnel was made), news coverage, and information about the operation of Fell locomotives are in the museum, and the very knowledgeable volunteer docent can tell you a lot about it. I absorbed roughly nothing of these facts, but I remember that these contraptions had to do with passing identification disks to and from the trains. I think.

Probably if you zoom in you can find out

The centerpiece of the museum is obviously the locomotive itself, and you can get pretty up close with it.

Shoveling coal probably sucked.

Anyway, the Fell Locomotive Museum is a nice way to kill some time in Featherson, which is itself a pleasant place to kill some time outside of Wellington. It’s also a Book town, with many small bookshops and literary events. Just a swell little town. Entry to the museum is $6 for adults, $2 for children over 5, and/or $13 for a family. There’s a little shop! I bought a tea towel.

Not my tea towel; a sidewalk mosaic.

The Edwin Fox Ship and Visitor Centre (Picton, NZ)

I think we can all agree that 2020-2021 have not been great years for museum-going motivation. Even here in the relatively normal New Zealand, I haven’t got much energy for museums or blogging. I do have a few to catch up with though, so I’m going to power through it. But one place you should not just power through is Picton, NZ, however strong the temptation might be to view it as big ol’ ferry lobby.

Picton is the South Island end of the Wellington-Picton ferry services across the Cook Straight, but you’d be missing something neat if you don’t build in a couple hours to visit the Edwin Fox before boarding your own hopefully far more seaworthy vessel.

Scale model. Do not attempt to board.

The Edwin Fox ship and Visitor Centre is the site of the remains of the Edwin Fox, built in 1853. According to the Centre’s website, the ship is the last surviving (it meets perhaps the most generous definition of “surviving” but as 168 years is a long time to hold anything together, I will grant it) wooden Crimean War troop transport and the last surviving Australian convict ship. It’s also the oldest merchant vessel and the oldest wooden NZ immigrant ship.

Let’s start with a look at ship life for the convicts being sent from Britain to Australia on the 1858 prison trip, starting with this sampling of offenders. Marvel at the consistency of sentencing in the 1850s. Ten years for stealing pants? Presumably they were awesome pants. Six years for stealing an ox? Damn those pants must have been frickin’ amazing.

I’m sure there’s a logical reason for a 17 year old to be sentenced to 14 years for sacrilege.

Prisoners spent most of their voyage below decks, which I’m sure was singularly unpleasant. The holding space could only be accessed through one very tiny door.

Duck

And in the great tradition of unsettling museum mannequins, here’s this guy’s tear- and/or sweat-streaked face.

Yikes

But the Edwin Fox had quite the life outside that one time it was a prison bus. In addition to the merchant activities, it was also the immigration bus:

It ended its functionality as a refrigeration and storage ship, having been stripped of the parts unnecessary for a floating cooler, until it was finally abandoned to the elements in 1950. Fifteen years later there was interest in preserving what was left of the Edwin Fox and it wound up in permanent dry dock in Picton. Artifacts found with the ship are on display in the visitor centre:

After strolling through the visitor centre, visitors then move to the outside-but-covered area that houses the ship itself. It’s kind of spooky!

I like to think of the beams as flying buttresses
Inside the hull

The fun parts of the ship itself are the set ups that show what life was like on board. If you could avoid travelling steerage, I would recommend dodging it.

Mealtime spaces seem fine until you think about how many people were using them:

Like a perpetually damp picnic

But it’s still preferable to the steerage “cabins,” which housed the whole family (up to six: two parents and four kids). The straw mattresses would be frequently dripped on from the deck above. It stunk, literally. The whole trip would take 12 to 14 weeks. And instead of running full tilt down the gangway and on to dry land to put the memory of your journey forever behind you, you actually dismantled the bunks and used the wood in your house.

Up to six people. Six. SIX.

Of course, the prisoner cells were just a bit worse.

Not shown: the actual barred doors.

Not all of the ship accommodation was so tight and gross. I can’t remember exactly but this might be the replica for the captain’s bunk (or maybe first class?):

Look at you with your fancy drawers, lah-dee-dah.

Finally, there’s a nice replica wheel and compass on deck, which look a little jarring next to the haunted, not-wholly-there deck itself.

Watch your step

Definitely check out the Edwin Fox and its visitor centre; it’s open every day but Christmas from 9 am. People 15 and up are $15 (the young are free). There’s a nice little swag shop, and they give little kids a free activity booklet.

Buque Museo Corbeta ARA Uruguay [Corvette ARA Uruguay Museum Ship]

Hellooooooo, sailor!

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Best case scenario for a ship, a nice little retirement berth in Puerto Madero.

Situated in the river in Buenos Aires’s ritziest barrio, parked near its better-known sister museum ship the ARA Presidente Sarmiento, you can find the ARA Uruguay.  How much better-known is the Sarmiento?  When you get a ticket at the Uruguay, it says “Sarmiento” on it.

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I was not on the Sarmiento.

But the Uruguay has its own very interesting history!  It’s the oldest ship still floating in the Argentine Navy, having come into service in 1874.  It was a training ship, it did military naval stuff like go to Patagonia to help throw cold water on Chile’s territorial ambitions, and then it got outfitted for scientific exploration in 1887.

The real high point in the Uruguay’s service life came in 1903, when it was refitted as an Antarctic rescue vessel.  It got its chance for glory in that line of work that same year, when the Uruguay was sent to save the Swedish Antarctic Expedition, which had been stranded for an ENTIRE EXTRA WINTER after its own retrieval ship sank on account of being crushed by ice.  They had to eat penguins.  It was not a good time.

The ship, which honestly seems a little small and drafty for crazy cold Antarctic shenanigans, has a museum below decks.

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Just, super small, you guys.

Here you’ll find artifacts from its naval career:

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Important person hat.

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Less important person hat.

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I long for the days when the pinnacle of masculinity was also extremely fancy pants.

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It includes some items that are original to the ship.

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So many jokes here.

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I don’t know what most of this is. Ships are mysterious places.

There are some actual artifacts related to the Swedish Expedition, too.

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Hm, yes, the plan of depending on candles in the Antarctic sounds solid.

Look at all this space below decks!  The 27 guys who went to rescue the Swedes were probably super comfy.  After the Swedes came aboard, everybody probably had to spoon constantly.

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DUCK TAILS, WOOOOO-OOO-OOOOO

Ships’ wheels are kind of neat, actually.

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Well that’s enough of that!  Let’s see some views on the deck.

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Bank, ho!

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Ship’s compass in that brass fixture on the higher deck.

There you have it, a piece of Argentine naval history parked right there in Puerto Madero, a stone’s throw away from a more famous piece of Argentine naval history, but deserving of attention, too.  Tickets are 20 pesos (about 50 US cents at the moment), and it’s open seven days a week from 10am to 7pm.  Look for it in the river here.