Having established that both Rick and I loved the property, there remained two hurdles to pass before we could really consider moving out to the middle of nowhere. The first was the train commute.

The train at Featherston station - Image from Rimutaka Incline Railway Heritage Trust
We found accommodation in Martinborough mid-week so that we could actually experience the commute to work back in Wellington, just to see how bad it was.
For two nights we stayed in a refurbished old house built in the style Kiwis call a ‘villa’ – which isn’t an Italian mansion with a courtyard but a quaint, wood-clad bungalow dating from the 1920s to the 1950s. It had a gorgeous garden and was adjacent to some vineyards.
Right away we learned that nights in the country are different. They are pitch black and intensely quiet, as though the darkness itself were a physical substance muffling sound, like fog. That first night we slept more soundly than we had in years.
So we were doubly surprised to be woken in the early hours of the morning by a low humming sound.
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