Sheep Shearing and More

Today, oh, today!  Rick, our host, is a sheep farmer with 600 head of sheep.  He invited us to his barn to watch a sheep shearing!! He knew we had a great interest; he wanted us to see. For Stan and me, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.  He did this just for us. I was born on a farm.  Sheep shearing is a farm event as interesting and amazing as hog nut-cutting!  When I was a little girl on the farm, that weird annual event took place on a back lot far from the house.  Before the event, there were always a  lot of anticipatory discussions and what I perceived to be excitement.  I wanted to watch; I was allowed to roam the farm and do just about anything else but I was not allowed to be present at that particular event.  As I was being pulled away, my beloved grandmother Latting said to me, “Now Janie, that’s for the men folk. You have to stay with me.”  I minded her, of course, but I could hear those boars and wondered what in the world was happening!!!  Now I know. Had I been able to watch, I’m sure I might have fainted.

I digress!  Sheep shearing is done once or twice a year but the cost of hiring [professional shearers is high and the rewards for two shearings per year may not justify the cost.  Some sheep farmers do their own shearing but it is physically challenging.   It’s like a wrestling match.  The man stands on a platform with a suspended strap around his chest to keep him upright while the heavy sheep wriggles, throws its head, and kicks.  The wool falls off the animal in great clumps and is pushed to a rack for picking to remove poo and bad stuff. It is then pressed into a 250-kilo bale, about 500 pounds. If the farmer can do the annual shearing, it leaves him fit, muscular, lean, and ready for the next year.  Some very strong women shear sheep too.  From what we saw in the barn, those sheep don’t welcome the shears, especially on their bellies or near their underparts.  Once sheared, I worry that the naked sheep may get sunburned on some days and then get chills on very cool nights.

The stars of the sheep shearing show are the two sheepdogs.  Bred to herd, Rick’s dogs stand at attention watching his every move waiting for his command that tells them to go to work.  Sheep dogs receive training but more importantly, they are gifted with hundreds of years of genetics that compel them to work in sheep herds.  Rick whistled and pointed at the loose bunch of sheep grazing across the field about 200 yards away.  At that command, Beau and Ruby tore out running toward the sheep.  The sheep gathered in a crowd when they sensed the dogs coming. The dogs pushed the herd of sheep toward us like a wall of water. My, how they all ran!  Guided by Beau and Ruby, the tight crowd of sheep went through the gate right in front of us and turned right to enter the chute to the holding pen as planned. A few were delinquent and raced around us avoiding the chute.  Those two dogs made a quick circle and herded the bad boys over buckets, boards, and old farm equipment directly up the chute’s ramp.  All was good.  Beau and Ruby then sat at Rick’s feet, looked up at him, and seemed to ask, “What’s next?”   The whole process was fast, maybe one minute?

After the sheep shearing, we headed to town to hike Cataract Gorge, a rocky escarpment park along the river directly in the middle of Launceston.  Wow!  The hike gave us views of the harbor, the river, and the tall stone escarpment which made the 4-mile hike fly by.  Hiking up the mountain on the zig-zag track equivalent to 27 flights of rocky stairs challenged us but the return walk on the other side of the river, along tall stone columns was a Sunday stroll.  When the park was first established in the 1800s a wooden walkway supported by piers lined the stone walls of the return side of the river.  Rebuilt several times, the walkway still looks as if it might be glued to that side of the mountain over the river but today’s version is much more sturdy and is even lighted at night   I held my breath as we watched two climbers work their way up a 500-foot wall of dolomite stone using only a small crevice as the hold.

Earlier in the day, at the sheep shearing we met nearby neighbors, Trevor and Donna, who came to meet Rick’s USA visitors and watch the demonstration.  We connected immediately and did we ever chat?  The couple is from Western Australia but split their time between the Australian mainland and the farm next to Rick’s place.  At home they keep bees.  Trevor told us we should drive the zig-zag route up Ben Lomond Mountain.  “There is a ski village at the top.  It’s a beautiful but scary drive with switch-backs on a very narrow road and it’s just over there on that flat-topped mountain,” he said, as he pointed the way.  We thought, ah heck, we’ve done crazy, dangerous roads before.  We have driven tiny pot-holed and rut-filled mountain roads in the Canary Islands and also in Costa Rico.  Those were truly scary. 

Plenty of time was left in the already magnificent day so away we went toward the mountain.  We drove through the rich farmlands of cows, sheep, and net-covered vineyards then the route took us through tall old-growth forests, climbing upward and higher on a fine gravel-packed road with steep mountains ahead and big-as-the-world valleys below.  While we enjoyed the scenery, I told Stan, “Something must be wrong, this is not the hairpin drive Rick’s friend, Trevor told us about.”  The drive to the top was majestic; the blue sky with painted-on clouds framing green forests and golden hills made the drive worth doing, but it was in no way as treacherous as Trevor had warned.  At the main part of the park, a sign told us the ski village was just 7 km farther.  We thought, “Go home and have wine or go on?  What the heck, we’ve gone this far, let’s see the village.”  We had hardly started onward when the way was reduced to a one-lane dirt road that wound up and down along the great mountainside.  Ah ha!  Finally, this, then, is the famous Jacob’s ladder, the zigzag trail!  I get heebie-jeebies just recalling the far too-tight turns and torturous potential mountainside falls that lurked just to my left!  Going back down was scarier than the trek upward!  Not only did Stan have to drive the narrow road on the left, but rain began to fall and the temperature dropped dramatically.  It was scarier than I can say but now that we are home in our cozy guest house, it was tremendous.  My driver, Mr. Mario (Stan) Andretti even agrees with me, we would not do it again.

I am omitting so much . . . The National Car Museum in Launceston, the great Estuary on the river, the Evandale Sunday Market, and dinner with our new friends, our hosts, Rick and Trudi. There is so much joy, tranquility, and peace here in Tasmania. I’m so thankful Stan and I got to have a glimpse. Thank you to all!