Coastal Pacific: taking it easy by train

Other passengers hurry off to the on-board café or immerse themselves in their books, but every time I open mine I get distracted by the view and sit transfixed by what’s unfolding. I don’t want to look away in case I miss something important.

Helpfully, I have headphones that relay the on-board commentary about what we are passing that enriches the viewing experience. The train chugs through Rangiora; I hear that its sunshine hours rival those in Nelson and Hawke’s Bay. In February 1972 New Zealand’s hottest temperature was recorded here; a scorching 42.4ºC.

We pass historic railway cottages built in 1902 that now serve as rustic holiday homes and then through a region called No Not I. Yes, that’s the official name. The story goes that a member of the community was asked to name the area but he didn’t want the responsibility; his response was interpreted a little too literally. 

The Pacific comes into view and we follow its coastline for the next 100km. It’s a playground for wildlife: terns, shearwaters, kekeno New Zealand fur seals, whales and various breeds of dolphin. I glimpse a dolphin leaping from the water just as the train dips into darkness through the 900m Parititahi Tunnel.

The translation of Kaikōura is ‘to eat crayfish,’ so it comes as no surprise to learn that many locals make their living selling the delicacy, including those operating the famous Nin’s Bin. The blue-and-white caravan parked on the ocean front attracts both hungry tourists and locals, including white-feathered, red-beaked ones perched squawking on the roof.

North of the town are seven kilometres of completely new road and rail. It’s been a massive undertaking to fix the damage to the coastline caused by the 7.8-magnitude earthquake that buckled, twisted and spliced the land in 2016, pulling new chunks of seabed to the surface. Rockfall even trapped a train driver in a rail tunnel overnight; I imagine how terrifying that must have been, waiting to be rescued.

Before the vineyards of Awatere Valley come into view the train rattles through Seddon, the small farming settlement named after an early New Zealand Prime Minister. Richard Seddon was in power when some notable policies came to fruition, including the introduction of the old age pension and granting women the right to vote. I was disappointed to hear was opposed to that particular law change, until I remember it’s suffragette Kate Sheppard’s face on today’s ten dollar note, not ‘King Dick’s’ as he was known, and that makes me smile.

Ironically, rain smudges the scenery as we pass through Blenheim – ‘the Sunshine Capital’ – which, they say, gets 2,500 golden hours each year. That’s 500 more than the New Zealand average. Winemaking and olive growing are lucrative industries here and we see the evidence of that flash by. 

The final stop of the journey is Picton and when the train ends it's journey, and there’s a flurry of excitement as passengers transition from one adventure for the next. For me, it’s on board the Interislander ferry, from where I observe the emerald coves of the Marlborough Sounds give way to the expanse of Cook Strait before I’m greeted by the bright city lights of Wellington.