ABOUT TOWN—FEATHERSTON
There’s a big lime-green sign at the Featherston railway station that I always look forward to seeing. With ears still popping from the pressure of the Remutaka tunnel and eyes bleary from trying not to fall asleep and miss my stop, the sight of the simple, matter-of-fact town slogan warms my soul. “Welcome to Featherston: if you lived here, you’d be home now.” That’s my thoroughly underwhelming cue to leap off the train, because even after 17 years in Auckland, I am home. If only for a weekend.
When I was growing up here, Featherston never seemed like a destination, more a place others were forced to pass through. The tiny farming town branded itself a “gateway to the Wairarapa”; a mere pit stop dwarfed by the
