Grand Final 2013 - getting there

It's Grand Final time again.

It was Grand Final time,

last week,

which seems about five minutes ago.

My fulla and I headed off on a sunny Friday morning

from Christchurch to Picton.

The weather was fine and we made good time.

We got to Blenheim (the town before the Picton harbour)

and discovered my work credit card wouldn't work.

No worries.

This was followed closely by a txt from the 

Interislander Ferry people 

letting us know that our ferry was delayed due to extreme weather.

Long story short.

Our 6:30pm sailing finally left at 10:30am the next morning.

We took a wander around Picton.

You sure can't mistake the toilets in Picton.

For some reason I posted on Facebook

that we were delayed and voila!

We got a phone call from lovely Claude to say 

come and stay with her family. 

Being polite and naive we really believed we would be sailing soon.

Gosh the ferry people said we would.

We had a 1:30am, 6:25am and finally a 10:30am sailing.

Our hosts thought we were a hoot.

They knew better.

They use the ferries all the time.

We set out early to make sure we were at the front of the car queue.

So that meant breakfast on the road.

Chicken sandwiches.

I love rotisserie chickens.

While waiting in line,

my fulla bumped into his mate from home.

They hadn't seen each other for about five years so 

a catch up was in order.

Culturally this requires sharing food.

Thank goodness for a handy dandy fruit loaf on hand.

We set out on peaceful seas.

Through the Marlborough Sounds and out into 

Cook Strait.

I now hate Cook Strait.

For goodness sake, I have traveling on these ferries

since I was a baby.

My Poppa would take me and Punky Pete across

in the highest of seas and let us run wild

while he propped up the bar and

yarned with his old railways mates.

This was the day I was introduced to sea sickness.

I puked.

I never puke.

My fulla took his sweet time to get a sick bag for me

but I held on,

then I puked and felt so much better.

we stayed with my super uncle for the night

then headed off to Auckland.

We got a flat tire on the very heavy trailer.

Thank goodness for my fulla cause

in  all seriousness I would have sat down and 

cried if I had been alone.

I couldn't even figure out how the jack worked.

And it was already dusk.

And I was super tired.

But my husband saved the day.

We hadn't even got near Auckland.

It was already a long week.

Still winter in Becks

I'm sitting inside near the sun

but actually within reach of the heat of a heater
reflecting on another successful Nat Com.

It's been a National Committee meeting weekend

and this time we brought the Young Farmer leadership

to Becks in Central Otago.

You remember Becks?

That's were Ben and Nessie live.

Yup the place with two pubs

and four Hore houses.

Nessie's is one of the Hore houses.

Ah makes me laugh every time.

Both pubs are called the

White Horse Hotel

not after the whiskey though but

because for a long time

the Upper Manuherikia Valley was known for 

the high number of white horses that lived there.

The pub above is the original pub and for a long time

it was just the stone building

then the wooden building was rolled across the road on logs.

When it was across the road it was the community hall.

I love knowing this stuff.

Anyway back to Nat Com.

Every year twice a year we bring together our Board

and our Regional Chairs and some vice chairs

together for a two day meeting.

There they discuss and decide a bunch of things for the organisation

like their opinion on any new branding,

timing of Grand Final and conference,

how to engage more with members,

can we really be bothered having an exchange programme.

While my job is to implement what is decided

it is the role of Nat Com to give me direction.

It's like having 20 bosses who are all care

and little responsibility.

This is what our really great bunch of Young Farmer leaders

look like in the freezing cold on the top of the Blackstone Hills

in Central Otago.

Ah the serenrity.

One of the great things about having Nat Com in a rural setting

was that everyone gets to go on a farm tour.

Ben and Nessie have a 10,000 acre high country station.

That means it's a livestock farm pretty dry, rocky, mountainous land.

Ever since Ben and Ness put in a centre pivot two years ago

they have had really good rainfall so

at the moment the Valley is quite green and grass is plentiful.

They have 10,000 merino sheep and a hundred or so cattle.

In the States this would make them ranchers.

In New Zealand they are farmers.

They grow wool for Icebreaker and meat for Silver Fern Farms.

They feed and clothe the world.

Big job that.

Speaking of big jobs,

we met perhaps New Zealand's busiest man

David MacLeod.

We invited him because of his position as a Fonterra Director

and he came an inspired all of us

with his down to earth, good natured, opportunity knocks

story of building from starting his own electrical business

to being a director on NZ largest company and

maybe the world's largest milk supplier.

He has a heap of roles along the way not in the least

Chair of the Taranaki Regional Council,

director of Parininihi ki Waitotara

and is a National Council member of Local Government NZ.

Not bad for a Maori boy from the 'Naki

(his words).

David made his journey from High School to Fonterra sound a bit like luck

but his underlying message was one of thinking strategically,

making the most of your opportunities and not waiting for them to come to you.

But most of all family first.

In a couple of days of really good speakers*,

he was the highlight.

After all the talking and watching the closing in weather,

we finished our meeting,

headed back to Nessie's houses,

got dressed up in our warmest gear,

jumped in utes and disappeared for a high country station farm tour.

This may surprise some but not others,

the young women (they are under 30) on our Nat Com team

are all hands on farmers.

Ness runs the Blackstone Hills Station with her husband Ben,

Keri dairy farms, running one of two farms with her husband Hamish,

Lisa is currently at Lincoln Uni studying Ag Sciences but was a shepherd,

Ruth is 2IC on a dairy farm near Dannevirke.

Dunno why it would surprise people but it does.

Above Ness is explaining the lay of the land,

with a bit of showcasing her working dogs in the yards,

and a good dose of micron and fibre talk with a hand from Scotty the stock agent.

After a day long meeting

(farmers find is exhausting sitting still and listening for hours)

and a rugged, bumpy but relaxed farm tour

we all headed to the shearing shed for a two tooth merino on a spit

(cause only townies like lamb)

and a slap up BBQ dinner,

with a few beers and cake,

as showcased by my lovely assistant Ruth.

(whats the Dairy for Life jacket doing in a shearing shed?!?!)

Visiting Ben and Nessie is one of my favourite things to do.

Like many high country farmers, they love to having people stay

and nothing is a problem as long as the animals come first.

They were wonderful hosts and I can't wait to visit again.

P.S. Even if I did get a speeding ticket on my way home.

*I'll post about Big Wig Day speakers tomorrow.

bone arse freezing

I do have to say it's been soo sooo cold the last two days.

We had a wee weather bomb filled with snow

about 6am yesterday.

I woke to a txt from the Lovely Kim to say

don't come to work cause the roads are covered with snow.

Fine by me.

I knew it was going to be bad

cause the farmers whose farms are on my way home from the Methven

were loading up bales of hay by gates for easy access

when the land was deep in snow.

I guess the bales would been identifiable by

 being the really big mounds of snow.

They had a couple of feet of snow in the Methven by 7am,

we had only just started.

Punky Pete had already left by then

but was home by 10am when they closed the Polytech

and sent the students home.

I don't know why I take photos in the dark when it snows.

We didn't get much snow in Leeston.

Only 5 cms but it was endless.

Snowed and sleeted all day.

Then rained and melted and froze.

I spent the day sitting a metre from the roasty, toasty fire.

Wow the fireplace looks wonky there!

I woke this morning in my bedroom with no curtains

to see my breath and to hear it was -5.8 degrees.

That's cold.

That's bone arse cold.

We hit a high of 0C today.

I stayed inside with my thermal long johns on,

my merino undershirt, a merino jersey,

jeans, wool work socks and my favourite

possum merino beanie from TBfree New Zealand.

Oh and I threw a Young Farmer's hoodie on so kept my hood up.

Cosy as a fridge.

At least I'm not these heifers I saw today.

I have to remind myself their hides are very thick

and the girls can handle being out in the snow.

For Leeston the snow has pretty much melted away.

That means black ice and slippy roads.

Oh good! 

I need to drive to Christchurch tomorrow to play musical cars.

Snow, snow go away and bugger off to Antarctica from where you came! 

Grand Final modules

The most important volunteer on Practical Day

of the

National Bank Young Farmer Contest

is the time keeper.

This year it was Lucie.

Practical Day starts off with a series of modules.

The modules are based on farming tasks

that may or may not be common.


Brad Lewis (Tara/Man) is grading fleeces here.

This would be pretty hard for him cause he is a dairy farmer.

The Contestants, of which there are seven,

one each from each of the seven Young Farmer Rgions,

come from any and all sectors of the agricutlure industry

including off farm Young Farmers like
Micheal Lilley (Tasman) and Tony Dowman (East Coast)

This is Micheal getting a seeder ready to....

you guessed it seed a paddock.

The Contestants have to so all the modules to the best of their ability

in limited time.

In this module they would have had to figure out how much seed

to load the seeder up with and that involves quite a bit of maths.

Micheal is a vet so this is a liddddlle bit outside of his experience.

Then we have Rural Polytechnic Business Manager putting together

a milking plant.

Tony Dowman (East Coast) has managed a dairy farm before injuryinghis back
and starting work at Taratahi.
This module should be pretty straight forwad for him,
but some times the thing you think you know the best and
haven't bothered to study cause you know it so well
will be the module that will trip you up.
Not that Tony did badly on this module.

Because you have these guys following you around
and they want interviews all the way.
And there's photographers and your every move is documented.
Katherine Tucker was the only female,
in fact she is the third female to get to Grand Final in 44 years.

The point of this Contest is to find the best Young Farmer.
Not the best girl farmer or boy farmer,
just the best farmer.
On farm cuts you no slack if you are a chick,
neither does this Contest.
Either you can do it or you can't.
Katherine can do it
and she can do it better than the seven guys
she beat in her Northern Regional Final.

Sam Williams (Wai/BoP) is getting up close with fecal samples.
Nice work if you can get it.
This is Sam's second Grand Final.
In his last one in Gore two years ago he cut his hand.
A big slash across his palm.
He should have gone to hospital but
he may only had that one chance to win Grand Final
so he stayed and didn't win, but he could have.

Micheal's giving welding a go.
I totally can't remember what they had to do.

Farmer's in NZ seldom scan their own ewes
(It's like an ultrasound but the ewes don't worry about having a full bladder
or have cold gel on their belly.)
but this makes a great left field module for Tony Dowman.

The one module you can count on is the First Aid module.
All farmers need to know First Aid cause help is never near by.
If you are lucky enough to have cell phone coverage you can call for help
but you can't count on that,
nor can you count on the first responders to be able to find you.
Pete Gardyne (Otago/Southland) encounters a pretty realistic car accident.

So in this module the judge watches and listens very closely
to exactly what you say and do.
The trick to this module is slow and steady
rather than panic and fail.

Hoof health is always important for cows.
Yes that's a real hoof but it's not attached to a cow.
If you talk to your local vets early enough,
 they'll collect up things like hooves and dead calf fetuses
and store them up in the freezer
so you can test/teach farmers in how to deal with
what ever animal health issue faces them.
Michael may have an unfair advantage here.
being a dairy vet and all.

It's a long grueling day.
Preceded by a full day of mental challenges,
as if farm problem solving isn't hard enough.
Pete is a great sheep and mixed cropping farmer
who stood up to all the challenging modules,
logging,
dairy,
sheep,
cropping,
engineering,
animal health/science.
And then once you have done those,
there's two head to head race offs
and the AgriSports Final.

And that's not the end of it.

tahunanui

The beach of my childhood is Tahunanui, just outside of Nelson.

 The place where I have been hiding out since Thursday.

I lie, as usual, I've been staying in Brightwater

at Jolly Hockeysticks Jo's mum's house.
Brightwater is near Nelson but isn't Nelson.

Jo and her mum have gone to Rarotonga for a week.

So I jumped on that one and asked if I could borrow

Pauline's, mother of Jo house.

Plus it's over Easter so extra quiet and super peaceful

in the sun

(until today, it's raining and I'm still in bed

but now have a bed headache.

Do you get those?

It's when you've stayed in bed too long playing on facebook,

not to be confused with a fb headache.

That, just is).

I love this image I caught on my new iPhone

(love it, wouldn't want to be without it, am almost completely fulfilled by it,

am considering proposing, to the iPhone that is).

I love walking though scrub tunnels with the promise of sunshine and surf.

Coming through the scrub tunnel out on to the beach.

Always, always makes me take a breath, followed by a sign of homecoming,

and a temptation to fall to me knees and kiss the sandy sand.

Thankfully this passes quickly, I'd inhale.

Finding a possie and taking a pew,

drinking in the sights, stopping for a minute to

prioitise unpacking, swimming, sunbathing, diving into a book,

taking a walk, swimming, sunbathing, swimming, sunbathing, sunbathing, sunbathing.

I like to think of Tahunanui as the beach of my childhood but the

reality is that, though I was born a stones throw from this beach,

we moved away when I was two.

I was pulled away to Blenheim just over the hill,

bludy big hill to be fair.

Blenheim has rivers, awesome rivers.

Rivers of fresh, flowing water.

Willow trees shading the banks.

It ain't Tahuna though.

The beach I spent my childhood summers on is Waihi Beach.

It's a good east coast beach in the Bay of Plenty.

(that means white sand in NZ, west coast beaches are black sand)

lengthy, endless sand and

enough surf to give you a tumble but not enough to drown you.

Considerably less glamous and peaceful than Tahunanui.

Regardless of which summer, there was always a beach

and usually a white sand beach,

Mags's preferrence.

Is this not the perfect beach?

The water is warm and laps at your feet.

The sand is light and white with silica and

compact, not soggy, easy to walk on near the sea.

The air is filled with the sounds of waves and fun.

The people are everywhere but

as it works on beaches, nowhere near you.

I've taken a couple of American friends to this beach.

Friends from land locked states like Utah.

They have no idea what you do at a beach.

That makes me want to cry.

It's totally foreign place for them.

I remember years ago arriving at another beach not far from Tahunanui called Rabbit Island

with my sister Pippapotamus

and the only-to-be-mentioned-when-I'm-drunk* Bilious.

Me and Pippapotamus jumped out of the car,

raced over the sand dunes and promptly did what we have done all our lives

and wrapped a towel around us,

stripped off underneath

and pulled on our togs**.

Never, in all our days would we have thought this was strange behaviour.

Where else do you get changed when the beach is miles from any amenities?

Besides the beach is for half naked people

(unless you are my grandfather Dave,

who wore a suit at all times, even to the beach)

But for Bilious it was all too much.

all too much this sheltered Mormon as they come, Utah boy.

He fled back to the car to get changed,

least that's where I think he went.

PLEASE NOTE: ALL IMAGES IN THIS POST ARE OF TAHUNANUI BEACH - sorry for the caps, I realised I hadn't been very specific in labeling the photos and am too lazy to go back to rewrite this post.

* I'm Mormon so never, never drink anything that would make me drunk - it's been years since I imbibed.  I don't miss the drinking and the things I did under the influence but sometimes I reminisce about a long, cold gin and lemonade or khalua and milk, or maybe a eye watering whiskey.  The Bilious story can wait for another day when I really do run out of things to post about.  That and I feel the need to expose every last fibre of my being to the oxymoronic world of the public/anonymous world of the bloggersphere.

** Togs = swimsuit.

TBfree New Zealand

Off to Northburn Station I went on Friday.

A flight to Queenstown,

a rental car to Cromwell

and a U-turn back to Northburn Station

to speak at the

TBfree New Zealand Southern South Island meeting.

When I say speak I mean

30 minutes on Young Farmers.

After an excellent lunch and a fair bit of wine

the auidence was almost completely unresponsive,

but none fell asleep

so yay me.

( not me for drinking though, cause I don't).

My favourite high country farmer friend

Nessie was at the meeting.

Which (I forgot to explain TBFree) was about the plan

for the 2012-13 and even 2014 

to eradicate bovine TB.

They are doing a great job but

you gotta keep your foot on the throttle.

Apparently you do this by killing lots of possums.

Possums like to have noturnal chats with cattle

and infect the cattle with TB.

Can't eat TB infected cattle.

Delightful Nessie extended an invite to stay with her and her Ben

for the weekend at their Blackhills Station.

I am often surprised about how my life is turning out.

One of the things I find surprising is that I know

high country farmers and get to spend time on their runs.

Ten years ago I would never imagine that I'd sit

on the front verandah of a grand old station

listening to weaned lambs bleat for their mums

enjoying the last of the summer's heat.

After the TBfree meeting,

I followed Ness to Alexandra to buy groceries

before heading back to the farm.

It was hot, deliciously hot.

We headed down to the

Matakanui* Combined Rugby Club at Omakau.

Ben is the Club President but

Nessie holds a far more important role.

She holds the bar licence.

We watched the last 20 minutes of the rugby game

which Ben was dressed for but watched from the sidelines.

Apparently it doesn’t matter who won because it was pre-season

(The “Tak”*team lost) and everyone knows

it’s the camaraderie in the Club rooms afterwards that counts.

It’s been years since I’ve served behind a bar but

I found I got into the groove under Nessie’s accomplished guidance.

It also helped that 99.9% of the after-match function attendees

ordered “a big bottle of Speights”.

Even I can open a bottle and make change for eight bucks.

There were no small bottles of Speights by the way.

Everyone was tired so it wasn't a late night.

We were all sleepy heads and

got to sleep after a bit of a chat back home in the lounge.

A fun day, not my normal day, I liked it.

hay hay

Hello to you too.

When I was eight I broke my arm in a hay barn.

I did that by falling through hay and

wedging my arm between hay bales

and flipping onto more bales lower down.

Only they were quite a bit lower down

and I kind of yanked my arm and it broke.

And so ended my love affair with hay barns.

Years later when I grew up

(this process is still in action)

I realised that I hate hay,

It's dusty and dry,

smelly and messy,

it sticks you with it's bunt ends

and you get all itchy and scratchy.

And then generally I get weepy and need to sleep

otherwise Im like a bear with a sore head.

Not that we have bears in New Zealand

but we now all about sore heads.

Aside from my physical dislike of hay,

I love seeing hay after harvest.

I always think how satisfying it must be to have it

all piled up in your barn.

Or, even better on a truck being sold for lots of lovely moneys.

Buying and selling hay is a cut throat business I tell ya.

I've been driving past hay in various uniform shapes and sizes

(that's an oxymoronic statement)

and here's just a few of my favourites.

I love the blue sky and golden hay.

And a wee bit of snow on the mountains already.

The second lot this year and it's not even winter yet!



Irrigators and hay - my two favourite things to see from a safe distance.

I loathe getting wet and sneezy.

Nothing like a nice fence

which reminds me that I'm going to a fencing competition

in two Saturdays from now.

And hay comes in so many different shapes,

well, round and rectangle

and I supose in stacks.

I love the seasons I see everyday.
The cycles of planting and harvesting.
The paddocks changing as the plants grow and are harvested.
The colours are wonderful.

Weeks of headers reaping the results of summer.
(this is a bit cheaty - this photo was taken in the Wairarapa
and is not making hay).
Makes me tired thinking about how hard farmers and
contractors work during the season.

A sunny last day

Mem went home yesterday.

Before she went we took off up into the mountains

to Castlehill to climb on the rocks.



What a day in the sunny sun sun.

Those limestone rocks are much bigger than they appear.

Mem is a normal sized person

shrinking as she climbs the rocks.

She reminded me of a puppy that needed to get out

and use her energy.

Mem raced up the hill,

across the rocks

in her jandels.

She was the champion hill climber.

I was trailing behind,

actually I trailed away

sticking to the flatter pathways.

And hid out in the shade of a huge rock.

We climbed high up on the big boulders

and sat in the sun

peering over the edge

very cautiously.

See! See the jandels???

She was climbing all over these rocks

in flippin jandels.

I would make a terrible parent.

I'd let my kids run wild in jandels on cliff like rocks.

The most amazing thing about the

Castelhill rocks

was that everything was so out of proportion.

Mem is within a normal speaking voice distance here

but it looks so far away.

supa hot

and loving it!

The roses are bloomin' blooming

and the veges are veging

Hanging out for the courgettes cause

they have been too expensive to buy.

Last night I went to Liza's place,

I haven't been there for a couple of years.

The reason was to visit with Alice and Alex

who I lived with 15 years ago.

I exchanged a Waikato summer for a Californian winter

after my first year at uni.

I had lived in California for three years previously

and after a year at home,

Liza called to say come over and play.
She had come over in my last year there

and hated it but went back anyway.

I ended up staying with Alice for four months.

I travelled quite a bit too,

places I hadn't been when I lived there

and a few that I had.

That's the benefit of having time away,

you get remember all the things you meant to do

but never did.

And now all these years later

Alice and Alex,

who is now 20 and was in elementary school when I was there

are here in the South Island..

They went off today over the mountains

stopping at Arthur's Pass on their way to Fox Glacier

and on to Wanaka.

So good to see them,

so good to be back home too.

And so good to munch on peanut butter cups.







Shepherd's Sprint

Ok Hamish and Peter won.

Yay New Zealand!

The Shepherd's Sprint is an obstacle course race

that the shepherds did in their national pairs

Here's Northern Ireland

with Thomas in front.
I sat with Thomas at the Awards Dinner a few days after this
and he was a little ill from hanging out with our North Otago Young Farmers.
It must have playing touch rugby then having a drink.
Apparently running and beer don't always mix too well.

The first activity in the Shepherd's Sprint
was to race the other 10 teams

in setting up a break and then

 to put together a child size wheelbarrow.

Once the wheelbarrow was made

they need to load a little, tiny toy sheep in it.

This had to stay with the team the whole time.

Below these guys are running put a litre of water in their bucket

to make a litre of milk from New Zealand's

premier export product....

milk powder!

Then they needed to up the milk

and do the killer activity.....

eat three wheatbix.

One and a half each of dry, dry wheatbix.

Here's Kelsey from Montana

doing it the wrong way.

Here's the tip,

chuck the wheatbix in the milk, mix it up, let it soak a bit

and then eat the mooshy mash of wheatbix.

Gross!

The team then ran like the clappers

with their wee red wheelbarrow and pet lambie lamb

to a pen where they needed to grab a sheep

(mean to be a ram for reasons to be revealed shortly)

and put a ram harness on one sheep.

(see)

Goo Scootlan!

Then, taking their little barrow the teams

 one team member needed to beat cream with a whisk,

hold it over their head to check whippyness

(they all did alright)

decorate a mini-pav with cream and kiwifruit and eat it

quick as they can.

Then collect up the potatoes,

jam them in a bag,

sew it up,

the bag not the race

though the kiwis did have it sewn up.

More running,

collecting up the standards they set up at the beginning of the race 

USA having lots of fun.

Uruguay running like a slow breeze.

Here's my team France.

I was dragged into being a judge for the Sprint.

I'd already judged poor old Ireland through two modules

because I am the expert in ATV safety and sheep organs y'know.

Ireland got to run through the modules that morning

because bad, bad Qantas made them a day late.

Beniot, closest, and the other guy whose names slips my mind

spoke no English which is a slight issue cause we don't speak French.

Luckily I had a paddle with a red side and a green side

so they knew when they could move on from each activity in the Sprint.

Ok I lie, they just moved on anyway.

I had their translator, their industry rep and some other woman,

who may have been a reporter

on the paddock 'helping' the team.

I even paddled the bottom of the industry rep and

booted him off the field for 'helping' too much.

Not that he listened to me.

He spoke English so he knew, little monkey.

Anyway France came fifth

which was an excellent placing.

A good day with the shepherds at the

World Young Shepherd's Challenge.

Next post will be all about the afternoon

at Totata Estate.

Ah the suspense will kill you....