It is with suburned fingers and cracked hands that I write this latest update.

HELLO FROM TANBAR STATION!

So, as anticipated, the roads didn’t open up on the Monday that I was to report to work, so their chopper pilot flew me in. It was a gorgeous ride, seeing all the flood waters straining through the channels and geese and cows fleeing us in every direction. The choppers they use are extremely small and lightweight, to enable them to get down close to the cattle and maneuver them with flexibility. Truly it seemed like some sort of battery powered helicopter you see in the consoles at the mall with some sales rep operating it with a remote control…anyhow, this also meant that it wasn’t big enough to hold me, my small bag, and my swag (more on that later) so my left leg was literally hanging out the side of the helicopter…but don’t worry, I was all strapped in! That thing has no doors. It was coooooold.

So that first paragraph was written about 2.5 weeks ago and I immediately fell asleep at my computer after writing it. These days are looooooooooong, and hard….and freakin fantastic. We start anywhere from 5:00 to 6:30 am, depending on what we have to do that day. If we have to draft and muster cattle, then we’ll start at 5 or 5:30 am. My first few days here were spent “at camp”, meaning we were camping out at an outstation called Gillpippie to draft the cattle, and then walk them from there to the loading yards to be trucked off, and just stay with the herd overnight on our way. People, what a way to be introduced to this life. I have to say up front that this ain’t no City Slickers movie; it’s not like a signed up for some tourist package for foreigners to have an “Outback experience” or anything…nope, I am a proper full time employee at Tanbar, jillaroo or ringer or whatever you want to call me. I’m expected to pull my own weight and jump right in, which is what I did. The first morning the chopper dropped me at Gillpippie I briefly met the rest of the gang and then got to work. Drafting means we run the cattle through these chutes into a round pen where they are quickly judged by the head stocksman or other qualified dude to decide where the cattle should go…market, the “bush” (out to pasture to either fatten up or be forgotten about) or somewhere else. Drafting also means you have to herd them, ON FOOT (do we even do that in Texas, are we that crazy????), from one pen to another to get them to the chutes. So here I am, being from Texas and all, wanting to prove myself my first day…we get on the ground in this giant holding pen and are supposed to push these angry wild bullocks into a tiny gate. (I say wild bc these guys grew up in the bush, thousands and thousands of acres of land, and instances like drafting are often the first time they’ve even seen humans.) I just look around and do what the other guys are doing – there is absolutely no training, just a general “yeah ask questions if you have any”…and let me tell you something, YOU try to understand this Aussie Outback mumbling lingo in the heat of the moment! Sheesh. Anyhoo so I’m “oi oi!!”ing at the bullocks and one came for me. It had been raining, as we have already established, and my boot got effin bogged – stuck – in about 2 feet of mud. I thought I was going to die for about 1.5 seconds because as I struggled to yank my foot free I just flat fell over. One of the ringers, Rohan, ran over, scared the bull away, and helped me up all in that time. That’s what I get for trying to be the cool kid in the first few minutes.

Next morning we’re up before dawn and saddling horses getting ready to drive the cattle to the loading yards, about 100K away. Man oh man did it feel good to have a saddle and get on that horse the first day. So good that I didn’t worry about my stirrups being so long that I could hardly keep hold of them for the first few days…to go from not riding regularly in YEARS to jumping on for 8 hours a day with no stirrups and just using your leg muscles…well yeah it’s definitely whipped my butt into shape. They had no other saddle for me so I just had to deal with it. (I have a different saddle now, what a world of difference!) Words can’t really describe what I experienced in the next two days…1,500 head of cattle, about 100 kilometers (and at least a million dollars, by the way). Me stuffing up CONSTANTLY. I mean, I’ve never done this before, so I should have known that I wouldn’t be perfect or anything…but BLOODY HELL I kept messing things up! There are certain tactics to working a herd, you know kind of like people – the whole psychology of the masses thing – that just didn’t click for me in those first few days. But everyone was super cool and nice, and would give me pointers. Rohan was a huge help and happily taught me while simultaneously taking the piss out of me….well, they all took the piss out of me, but that’s allright. A word on Rohan (pronounced Rowen) he is Mr. Sunshine. Once the herd is going, he’ll ride up and down the line belting out songs, anything from Metallica to Paint Your Wagon Tunes, Slim Dusty and Tenacious D. He will also use the end of his bull whip to conduct fake talk radio shows or history triva quizzes. He’s a gem.

After the first day I was…stunned, happy, excited, exhausted, nervous. We camped with the herd that night, sleeping in our swags….a swag is kind of like a sleeping bag, except GIANT and more like a tent/sleeping bag combo. You don’t need a tent if you have a swag, you just roll it out and then zip yourself right up in it, it keeps bugs, snakes, rain, etc. out. So yes that first night I slept under the incredible stars of the Australian Outback. As we watched the sunset and paint absolutely gorgeous colors across the clouds, I asked the rest of the gang if they were just used to that beauty by now or if it still stirred them. I think my notice made them appreciate it for a split second…but yeah they’re just used to it. I was so stirred up by it that I couldn’t sleep, not until well after the thousands and thousands of untouched stars made their appearance for the night. One thing: Peter, the manager, made sure to tell us that when we needed to go to the bathroom to be sure to go “That way”, meaning away from the herd…because if someone were to accidentally scare the herd in the middle of the night whilst having a wee, as they say…and they should stampede…well, yeah. You can imagine. So you know, lil ole me just sleeping meters away from slightly deranged cattle who could possibly stampede…ain’t no thing but a chicken wing….or a giant bull hoof on the head. No worries mate.

The next day was…ridiculous. We were originally going to take a couple of days to walk the cattle all of the way back, but due to a coming storm we walked them ALL THE WAY BACK. 1,500 head of cattle, have I mentioned that yet? What’s worse is that for a lot of the time we didn’t have a fence to follow…if you can push them up against a fence to walk them and then everyone else on the other side to keep them moving and push them back in, well that’s not so bad. But no fence, just mobs of cows and a limited number of ringers on either side to control them…I swear it felt like madness, just because of that and then the mud and the creeks we had to cross and me not knowing what the HELL I was doing…sheesh. I remember one instant when I had just finished galloping off to chase some lone bullocks back to the herd only to send the rest of the herd in the wrong direction, whilst crashing through a creek, when Rohan looked up at me from the other side and screamed “Hey Nancy, you gonna have a drink tonight?!” HELL YEAH I had a drink that night. I needed a few of them after that day!

So, I’ll move on to station life now. That day we arrived back at Tanbar, 2 days earlier than expected, and I was sunburned on the bottom half of my face (my hat protected the top half) and REALLY sunburned on my neck. By now I have a proper farmers tan, super brown hands/forearms, a V on my chest from my workshirts, and my face. The rest of me is as white as the snow I always dream of seeing some Austin Christmas morning, but never quite happens. Back at the station we met at the Rec club for 5:00 drinks. Everything is very strict at a station, whether you’re actually home or at camp. Breaky is, as I said, anywhere from 5:00 am to 6:30 am. Then you have Smokco (I think once upon a time it stood for Smoking Company) at 9:00, then Dinner (lunch) at 12:00, another Smoko at 3:00, Rec club at 5:00, and Tea (dinner) at 6:30. All are absolutely required, and as I learned my first day, when they say a certain time, they really mean 15 minutes earlier. Yep. I think I have at long last been broken of my tardiness habit (I can hear my dad cheering all the way from Texas).

At this point, bc my eyes are starting to droop but I just can’t put off this update any longer, I’m just going to give you general tidbits. I live with the cook in a gorgeous lil house. The guys have their own quarters…then there’s Carl our headstockman and his lovely fiancé Nikki who have a lil house. Nikki is a treasure – one of the best people I’ve ever met, down to earth, fun, tough, hard workin – and seriously looks like a blonde Angelina Jolie, no exaggeration. As I said fellas, she’s taken. They are all great to work with. There are huge tanks here that catch the rain water, and that’s what we drink – the purest thing on the earth, as we are in the middle of nowhere and terms such as “acid rain” have no meaning. We’ve been lucky enough to have the past two weekends off, and we’ve all headed into Windorah to my good ole pub for drinks and general muck running. Last Saturday was my birthday, and I have to say it was one of the best ever...though apologies go out to mom and dad and the grandparents, who called me at the pub (and it was gosh darn great to talk to them) but all the ringers were screaming nonsense into the phone…eh, I think they enjoyed it. :)

Today we walked cattle about 30 K from one yard to another…they were another station, Kerongaloo’s cattle who somehow got mixed up with ours, so we were up early this morning to draft them and walk them to the loading yards…and guess what? It rained. Like, REALLY rained. We were soaking wet. Everyone else was cranky and not liking it, but I reckon it was a bloody awesome adventure. I definitely had a Braveheart moment, “But this is good Scottish weather madam, the rain is falling straight down! Well, slightly to the side-like…” An American girl having a Scottish moment in Australia. Yeah, I don’t get it either, but it was bloody awesome! By the time we were done Nikki and I were so delirious and giggling nonsense that the guys were absolutely disgruntled and wanted nothing to do with us. Whatever cranky pants. :) When we got home I took off my boots and poured at least a cup of water out of each one. At least we got it all done in one day.

On days that we have no cattle work, we’ll do stuff with the horses if we’re lucky…or, I’ve mowed a lot of yards, done a lot of weeding, feeding the pigs/chooks (chickens), sweeping sheds, OH! The biggest thing yet! So, the other day I went with Rohan and Carl to shoot a cow. I helped skin it. Then I helped take out all the cuts, and even the heart, tongue, kidneys, and pancreas, or sweetbread, as they call it. Yes, I tried them all as well. This ex vegan/vegetarian has certainly…well, come a long way, or at least down a different path. There are so many emotions and reasonings going through my mind in both directions with all of this that I will not even delve into it here; don’t want to bore you with my truth musings. It’s definitely a different world I’m living in right now.

Allright then, that’s all folks. I hope this has all made sense, I’m half asleep already. There is nothing like what I’m experiencing. These people are crazy, but hard working, and completely self sufficient…and just tough. Rough and tough, I should say. I don’t begin to cut it, but I’m certainly trying. And thankful for every minute of it.

Love you and miss you all so much.

Nancy