Befitting the major transit point for an entire nation, Budapest has three main train stations that take in most points of the compass. There is Keleti Palyudvar (Eastern station), whose frontal approach has just undergone a badly needed upgrade, Nyugati Palyudvar (Western station), a spectacular late 19th century Eiffel creation that has slowly succumbed to eloquent dilapidation and Deli Palyudvar (Southern station), a functionalist concrete concoction that was built to replace the original station which was shot to smithereens in the Battle of Budapest. Each of these stations counterintuitively services various points of the Hungarian compass. For hundreds of thousands each year, they are still the palaces of transport.
Trains originating from Nyugati Palyudvar often go east and those starting at Keleti Palyudvar head west. The most notable instance of this twisted logic occurs when trains head west to Vienna from Keleti. While such turns of the tracks have perplexed me on occasion, another question regarding the train stations of Budapest looms much larger in my mind. Specifically, why is there no northern station (Eszak Palyudvar) in the city? After all, if you have east, west and south stations then why not have a north one as well. I have heard various explanations, the most convincing of which is that all the other stations cover potential destinations. Also, the fact that the area north of Budapest is quite mountainous, with rugged terrain and comparatively few populated places would have made a railway station servicing it a needless waste of money.
The Last Joyride – A Train Trip Back In Time
The fact that there is no northern station in Budapest does not mean that railways have avoided this part of the city. On the contrary, many of the great treasures of Hungarian railway history can be found in the area at two places. The first one is Vasuttorteneti Park (Hungarian Railway Museum), which attracts tens of thousands of tourists every year. Visitors come to look at an amazing array of old locomotives and railway carriages that evoke the increasingly distant golden era of railway travel in Hungary. The other area filled with railway treasures bumps up against the Vasuttorteneti property, but hardly anyone is aware of it. This is the now defunct Istvantelek Train Yard, also known by its colloquial name as the Red Star Train Yard.
Istvantelek is off limits to tourists, but not to wily urban explorers who are willing to chance a visit. Many railway enthusiasts are aware of the rusting treasures to be found throughout the train yard. It has everything from hulking locomotives emblazoned with the communist red star to pre-World War I monsters that stand in silent, stolid testimony to the engineering achievements of a lost industrial age. A visit to Istvantelek is difficult, but not impossible. My Hungarian brother-in-law Attila, set out with me on a brisk winter’s day in January to see if we could get inside and take a look at some incredible railroad history.
Controlled Access – A Not So Grand Entrance
Access to the site was somewhat controlled, but Istvantelek was not heavily guarded. Research on the internet showed that the train yard could be accessed one of two ways. Either by sneaking into the train yard or asking for access from someone manning a lightly guarded main gate. The latter method seemed more promising if it was done on a Sunday. That’s because Istvantelek is still home to several small industrial concerns that have handfuls of staff working there on weekdays. On Saturdays and Sundays the site was said to be mostly abandoned, offering the most opportune time for a visit. The fewer people around, the better the odds of having a look. Attila was up for the adventure as well. He contacted a friend of his who had a bit of knowledge about the site. They planned to go with us, but other commitments forced them to back out at the last moment. From what we were able to learn, it was likely that we would have to find a hole in the fence or scale a wall in order to get inside. I did not enjoy the thought of climbing over a wall, especially when I first saw what would face us.
As we drove around the streets surrounding the train yard, I was unable to see much inside. That was because a cement wall, at least six feet high topped with three strands of rusty barbed wire, surrounded much of the perimeter. Thoughts of trying to straddle the wall while tangled up in barbed wire came to mind. We were a couple of guys in our late 40’s who were decently fit, but not exactly in prime shape. Climbing walls and suffering barbed wire wounds was not exactly an appealing idea. Fortunately, while driving around the perimeter we began to see some chain link fencing that looked more easily scalable, including one area with a gaping hole in it. The fence could be overcome, but perhaps there was a more promising option.
Twenty Nos & One Yes – A Ticket To Ride
We were finally able to find an entrance to the site with a guardhouse and gate. The gate was up, but the guardhouse was manned. We pulled up to the guardhouse where a man of medium height and build with graying hair and soft eyes greeted us. Attila decided to get out of the car and talk with him. I stayed in the vehicle, trying to look as disinterested as possible. The guard’s voice always maintained a level tone and there was very little discernible emotion on his face. He seemed to be relaxed. This was a good sign. It has been my experience in Eastern Europe that if you are to be told no, a negative answer is almost always immediately forthcoming. In this case, I was cautiously optimistic, but a bit unsure as their conversation lasted several minutes. When Attila returned to the car, he started the engine and said, “after about twenty nos I finally got a yes. The man said we could look around, but not to linger for too long.” I was elated. We were in.