By the 1910s, planners had begun turning Cerro San Cristóbal into a public refuge above the growing capital. A funicular was the natural way to reach the summit, and the project finally went to Bosso in 1922. The lower terminal, where riders still begin their climb today, was designed by architect Luciano Kulczewski, whose romantic, slightly fantastical style left a mark across Santiago. There is a nice piece of national trivia tucked into the construction: the strength of the steel cables was tested by engineer Jorge Alessandri, son of the president who opened the line and himself a future president of Chile from 1958 to 1964.

The line runs 485 metres up the slope and pauses at three stations along the way. The first, Pío Nono, sits at the foot of the hill. The middle stop serves the national zoo, where generations of Santiago children have pressed against the railings. The top station, Cumbre, opens onto the sanctuary of the Virgin and links to the Santiago Cable Car that glides on across the park. The ride is short, but the climb peels the city away in layers, trading street noise for birdsong and the dry scent of the hillside.

The funicular has worn its age gracefully. Service paused for repairs in the summers of 1949 and 1950, when a full fare cost a few pesos and a student rode for less. In 1968 the original wooden car roofs gave way to canvas tops on metal frames. The line's most famous passenger arrived in 1987, when Pope John Paul II rode to the summit during his only visit to Chile. Only one serious accident mars the record: in January 1998 an ascending car carrying six park workers struck the hillside after a brake engaged too late, destroying the car's front and costing one employee his arm.

In recognition of its place in the life of the city, the funicular was declared a National Monument of Chile on 16 November 2000. A ride up remains one of Santiago's small rituals, equal parts transport and pilgrimage. Tourists and locals share the cars on weekends, climbing toward the viewpoints, the zoo, and the statue that has watched over the valley for generations. A hundred years on, the same simple counterweight principle that opened the line still draws it patiently up the hill.