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By Rail Through the Wairarapa Valley.
A District Of Rich Farm Lands.

(By “Straggler.”)

“All seats please!” It was the voice of the station-master at Masterton which with the clang of the station bell sent passengers on the southbound Wairarapa express scurrying for their seats on a recent afternoon. It was a glorious summer's day—a true sample of Wairarapa's brilliant weather; bright sunshine from an azure blue sky and scarcely a breath of wind.

A wave of the guard's hand sent the train on its way rolling along over the great plains of the smiling Wairarapa valley on its way to Wellington, known to people of the valley as the “smokey city,” perhaps more commonly than as the “windy city.” It was a long train and there were many people travelling. Leaving Masterton, the hub of the district's commerce behind, the train sped on, and from the carriage windows was to be seen an everchanging scene. Passing huge freezing works on the right just a few miles from Masterton, and several small flag stations, Carterton was reached in good time. Named after Charles Rooking Carter, one of the earliest pioneers to penetrate into the Wairarapa, this township cannot be said to have exactly prospered because of its close proximity to Masterton with its much greater population. But for all that Carterton has progressed slowly but steadily over the past 50 years. From the carriage little can be seen of the actual town, the train just touching on the outskirts of the residential area. Bright little flower beds at both ends of the station platform were attracting comments of admiration from travellers. They were simply a blaze of colour. “It's a pity all station platforms were not decorated alike.” This was the remark of one of the passengers which seemed to epitomise the general line of opinion.

A brief halt at Carterton and then we sped on again. A change from sheep-farming lands to country where dairying was mostly in vogue was perhaps the strongest contrast. For on most of the country skirting the railway track in the vicinity of Matarawa and Dalefield, dairy cows were to be seen grazing on sound pastures. Indeed this position was the order for the bigger part of the journey from Carterton to the foot of the Rimutaka incline. Without a stop, scenes of rural activity of a widely varied nature flashed past the carriage windows on both sides.

Woodside was the next stop. It was here that one elderly lady disembarked from our train and boarded one standing on the other side of the station, which would take her to Greytown along a branch line. It was as a memorial to the name of Sir George Grey, Governor-General of New Zealand, many many years ago, that Greytown was called such. In the very early days of colonisation Sir George took a keen interest in land matters in the Wairarapa, especially at Greytown.

From Woodside to Featherston, the scene was still one of dairying activity. One could not help but marvel at the verdant pastures for the time of the year. There was a fair crowd lining the platform at Featherston as the train glided into the station. Alongside the station service cars and taxis were drawn up to transport passengers leaving the train to their ultimate destination, be it the township of Featherston or to Martinborough, some ten miles away to the east. The few vacant seats filled rapidly and the train was once more on its way. Leaving Featherston behind, a wide expanse of water came into sight with the high ridges of the Orongorongos in the background. Of course! This was the Wairarapa Lake, its shimmering waters glistening in the afternoon sunshine like a light on a newly polished mirror. But the lake does not always appear so tranquil. It frequently gets into the news for its flooding. Probably that is why it is so widely known. When it floods, it generally makes no bones about it, and very many acres of fertile farm lands are lost temporarily.

Suddenly all sight of the lake is lost behind a long avenue of willows all dressed in their verdant summer growth. The train slows up and comes to a standstill at Pigeon Bush to let down a passenger. So named because of the abundance of wild pigeons in the bush in this locality before the pakeha began to colonise the district, Pigeon Bush looked very peaceful when we passed through. But it is said that the place can be anything but peaceful when the wind blows.

From there our conveyance sped on into the lower hills of the Rimutaka range. At Cross Creek the attention of passengers was diverted from scenery to the changing of engines. Perhaps there were some who were unaware of the operations that transpired during the ten minutes which we stopped there; but to those of a more inquisitive frame of mind it was obvious that something was happening. Instead of the one AB engine, two Fell engines were attached to the train one to the fore and one to the aft. These page 48 page 49 are special engines equipped to grip on a third rail to take the train safely up the incline.

To one who has travelled a great deal on the Railways in most parts of both Islands there is no trip more pleasurable than that over the Rimutakas.

Half a dozen or more bright faced and carefree school kiddies climbed aboard before the train departed from Cross Creek. They were returning to their homes at the Summit under the advantage of the Government's free transport system.

The change of engines effected, the train once more got under way, but progress was greatly reduced as it wended its way round the bends of this steep climb—about one in fifteen. A special feature of this portion of the trip is undoubtedly the mountain scenery. What bush remains—and there is a good bit—is truely beautiful. As one looks down over acres of virgin bush into the gully far below with its placid stream winding its way out on to the plains the impression is awe inspiring. But one cannot help but attempt to visualise what this scene must have been like before the cruel hand of man wielded an axe and gave rise to fires. Alas! the face of the hillside on the opposite side of the valley is unpleasantly barren in appearance today.

Though the speed is reduced to a minimum in places, the steady chug chug of the engines as they strain to pull the load up the incline reminds us that there is still activity. The koninis, lacebarks, karakas, huge five-fingers, tall and stately tree ferns with their frail-looking fronds flapping furiously in the wind were among a few of the native trees to be seen. And a few pohutakawas were in evidence, but without their deep crimson flowers. All was peaceful in the carriage with most heads glued to the windows, though a few travellers did not lift their heads from newspapers or books, except perhaps to take a casual glance at the passing scene. “Time for refreshments at Kaitoke,” came the voice of the guard, who manifested a particular interest in the kiddies travelling. Momentarily passengers' attention was distracted, but it was quickly flashed back to the scenery outside.

Three fairly long tunnels were passed through before the Summit was reached, but then who need worry about those; readers continued to read for the carriage was well lighted and others continued to talk. The Summit, a narrow plateau at the top of the incline, is a deserted sort of place. Other than a few railway employees there seemed to be no one about. After the 35 minutes' climb, those aboard were firmly impressed with the marvellous feat of engineering which was performed in the construction of the line. At the top the Fell engines were left behind and an ordinary engine attached. The grade of the line on the Wellington side of the ranges is easier though there is more hill country passed through. So far, this side has not been denuded to the same extent as the other side and in consequence, we had the best scenery to come after leaving the Summit behind. Indeed, there is actually nothing to rival it on the Wairarapa side.

Though clouds hung overhead at the Summit, the train soon sped out into sunshine again and the pleasantness of the countryside as it flashed past became ever so more apparent.

After passing through two more short tunnels Kaitoke was eventually reached and there was a hurried rush for the refreshment room for a keenly awaited cup of tea and large ham sandwich. Within five minutes four smartly dressed waitresses had served upwards of 100 hungry passengers with tea and sandwiches or cakes. Their civility was a feature and through it all they remained perfectly calm and above all, were courteousness personified.

Two more tunnels were passed through and the train sped from the Maungaroa hills out onto the farm lands of the Hutt Valley. Upper Hutt was passed and then on to Trentham, where the fine grandstands and environs of Trentham racecourse attracted the attention of travellers. The military camp was passed and then on through Wallaceville to Silverstream, where the stately and very much English-looking buildings of St. Patrick's College came into view. Further wayside stations were passed by almost without notice until Lower Hutt was reached and then Petone. So vast has been the growth of the Hutt Valley in recent years that it is impossible to pick where Lower Hutt ends and Petone begins.

On leaving Petone on the final stage of the journey to Lambton Station the train runs out on to the edge of the harbour, a glorious sea view coming into sight with Mt. Victoria and other prominent points of the city appearing. Further round the harbour, nearer Wellington, the train passes the new line which is to carry Main Trunk rail traffic through the new electrified tunnel.

Finally Wellington is reached, and the first thing on stepping from the train, which attracts the eye of the visitor is the fine new railway station now nearing completition. The journey is completed with the lasting impression in my mind, at least, that travel by rail provides every ounce of the courtesy, comfort and civility claimed for this mode of transport.