Farmers Holiday (Mark II)

Husband was excited to tell me he was taking me on another holiday, as we finally gathered up the cattle to send on their own holiday Yaraka way. I did consider taking the kids with us as well, but saw reason when I considered 1. six hour drive 2. the swag and bag packing 3. the food quantities that would be needed and 4. the six hour drive. The kids, in their part, were pleased to instead spread themselves out having sleepovers at Grannies and Granmas for the duration.

Trucks were loaded in an orchestrated movement, two decks being collected from one place, before the remaining eight were loaded at the prickle farm. A very dusty endeavour, the back yards being quite powdered up from the bovine traffic, I am told I was quite a sight by the time we finished. My job was to keep feeding (and counting) the right amount of cattle towards the loading ramp. 17 to a pen or 34 to the full deck with the ramp (the top layer, the cattle are split up once the ramp on which they are standing is winched up)

We had smoko with the truckies, I showered off several layers of dust and made myself respectable and around midday we headed off behind the trucks. Didn’t take long for us to catch up to them, and then we drove and drove and drove (via Aramac this time) and drove some more. Seemed to take MUCH longer to get to Yaraka this trip, am sure they shifted it further away.

Our hosts had thankfully teed up the local watering hole that we would be there for dinner, although that must have confused them as Trevor had to take his away, they had forgotten his order. At around 11pm the trucks arrived at the loading ramp, and ever so neatly they all stepped off the truck.  Afterwards the truckies had to talk and talk and talk and talk, I was so tired I went and napped in the ute for this blokefest of tale retelling to be over. Rolled out our swags in the shearing quarters and asleep FINALLY around 1am. My swag was on a shearers stretcher, one that was quite defined in its shape and I woke in the morning wedged into the same position that I’d gone to sleep in!)

Daylight seemed to arrive far too soon, and having forgotten to pack the kettle for the gas stove, our breakfast was alfresco and coffee less then into the yards.

The country and the feed was beautiful. The steers and heifers did not take much controlling, I had to drive them along the laneway so we would get to their paddock at least sometime before dark!

I had time to study the rock formations in the area.

 

Finally, after around 6km of walking and eating….

and a small moment of adventure crossing some small steep creek channels, which one had to ride carefully through lest one disappeared into a small deep hole hidden in the long grass (I actually dismounted at one point and let husband get my bike across, beyond my skills or desires to try such feats. Our host, mounted on two wheeled bike, looked on cheerfully with interest, having crossed without incident, only to get himself in a tangled heap just metres away afterwards when he hit a big tussock of grass that lept out in front of him).

We arrived!!

Thirsty kiddies were pleased to see the dam, and check out their new digs. Remember TeaLeaf and Mabel the poddies? they are somewhere in this mob.

We settled them in at the dam, many quite happy to sit and camp after their trip of the day before, and big walk that morning. I almost felt a bit sad riding away from them…

Especially as they all stood on the bank (forlornly in my mind) and watched us ride away. Somewhat like leaving kids at boarding school, someone said!

And as we drove homewards that afternoon, somewhat weary and deciding five minutes after we’d left that staying in a motel in Longreach that night sounded AWESOME, I finally got to have a closer look at the post office in Illfracombe. On closer inspection it is indeed built on the same specs as our house but with slightly different building techniques being employed.

And I tell you, that motel in Longreach was indeed comfortable. As was the delicious meal that was delivered to our room (clothing fit for restaurant consumption not packed). Husband said, see I told you we were going on a little holiday…..

I hope the next “holiday” is a little more relaxing?!

so, what do you do out here?

Its a question that drives us - those that live in rural communities and townships - bonkers. Honestly. There is rarely a weekend or weekday that there isn't an event or function or business thing to do, and in between we are working, and you know, just living every day normal lives.

Recently, I went to the  North Western Games Dressage Competition in our nearby town, to watch a level of competition that has never been held in the west before. I don't know much about dressage, do know a little about horses and equestrian ability (although fellow campdrafter/stockhorse persons did agree that these dressagey types can be a bit princessy?! ;-) and holy cow. There was some seriously talented stuff happening and some drool worthy horses there. With a whole lot of feed in their bellies.

I was there to help photograph and record some of the competition. It was somewhat challenging in a technical sense, the great big undercover arena being great to ride in (so they tell me) but a real pain for photography. Took some fiddling and also deciding that only grey or white horses should be allowed to enter within. Took so so so many photographs and wondered about my own equestrian skills before laughing my silly head off (internally of course) at the notion.

Following that weekend, we had some Rugby 7's, fiercely competed:

and just to show that we don't just gad about playing ladies, some work in between:

Which really is a post unto itself: unloading poly pipe off the truck. Our truck (or should I say, ONE of, husband seems to think he needs one for each purpose, so lets say the CATTLE truck as opposed to the CRANE truck which is used for our trough business) can be a little tricky in its gear box, so I gingerly took control of the wheel and resolved to get my gear changing practiced. Given that the track was rough and we had to stop every 200 metres, I only ever got to third, but by golly I am getting good at those three gears. But throw into the mix a 40ft trailer on behind which is attached via articulated dolly (not something I've ever been in control of in my driving career to date, nor studied the strange movements and mechanism of) and one can imagine the wild hand movements seen the rear view mirror when tree stumps and other obstacles had to be negotiated. (husband being on the trailer pushing the pipe off). There may have been an odd occasion where driver alighted and using hand movements of her own indicated that HE do what he like with truck and trailer.

Ah, husband and wives working in harmony in the bush. I rest easy knowing that across the nation, there are similar marital discussions like this :-). Just for once, there weren't a few kids helping to add to the excitement of it all, in this case safely in care at school!

So yes, we find PLENTY to do out here.

Lest we forget

late to the party I know, but a few quick shots from our little towns Anzac Day parade, which the children run.

The Husband was thrilled (not) that he somehow managed to find himself on a horse for the second time this year. (the second time in around 10 years too I might add)...

  

His joy was compounded by the fact that as he mounted the borrowed horse, he was informed of its narcolepsy-like condition. It probably wasn't appropriate, but the owner of the old horse and the wife of the green shirted rider were heard cackling away quietly when The Husband was seen giving ole Spin a boot in the belly to wake him up...

The service (just lovely as always) was followed by smoko of course.

I raided my precious silver leafed iron bark tree for some greenery, and on the way out, quickly added some fresh mock orange blooms to the vase. Smell=divine.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them. Lest we Forget

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