2013 bucket list

It is August.

Yup.

That means that more than half of 2013 is gone already. Hasta la vista baby. This got me thinking about all the cool stuff I still want to do before the big 3-0 comes along in October, and then December 31 rolls around and its the end of the year! To quote my most favouritest (yes its a word) being EVER: "If I, King Julien (that is my name) , only had two days to live, I would do all the things I ever dreamed of doing." So, I thought I'd better check up on my 2013 bucket list, and get cracking on those last few crazy things that I have left to do in my twenties....

Some very cool things happened this year so far:

* My big little sis got ENGAGED (woop woop) to her handsome German (rrrrow)
* The cutest nephew in the world was introduced to us all in February (heart), and my parents instantly became granny corks and pops (wahhahahahahaha!)
* We moved our first cows down to the new farm, and subsequently fixed a bunch of fences and water leaks...
* Some pretty amazing people got hitched (Pips & Adam, Pierre & Hanli, Anje & Jaco)
* Some pretty gorgeous babies were born (Divan & Lenee, Neil & Ilze, Hamish & Mags)
* Corks' Crew conquered the Midmar Mile
* Frankie joined the Thomas menagerie and has cemented her place in it.

Then there are some preeeety cool things that still need to happen before the year is out. I tried to think of all the crazy stuff I want to do before kids and becoming responsible (AKA 30), and this is what I came up with:

* Jumping out of an aeroplane. If I don't do it this year, I never will.
* The Oribi Gorge Wild Five Adventures...amazeballs!
* Another big(ish) mountain bike race :)
* Completing a triathlon (albeit a small one...)
* Getting some horses - what is a farm without horses???
* A big trip to Zanzibar in November (booked!) where we can have a second honeymoon and just be the two of us for a romantic splurge....cant wait!
* Raising R10 000 for our Rhinos who really need our help desperately (please click here if you want to donate)

I think that's a good start. Lets see how far I get!

My personal challenge...

chal·lenge  (chlnj)

n.

1. a. A call to engage in a contest, fight, or competition: a challenge to a duel.

   b. An act or statement of defiance; a call to confrontation: a challenge to the government's authority.

2. A demand for explanation or justification; a calling into question: a challenge to a theory.

3. A test of one's abilities or resources in a demanding but stimulating undertaking: a career that offers a challenge.

 

As some of you may know, Dale and I partook in the Imfolozi MTB Challenge this past weekend; a 55km MTB "race" through the iMfolozi Game Park in Northern KZN. I thought I'd look up the definition of the word "challenge" to see if it was appropriate for what we experienced - 100%. This ride was honestly the most challenging thing I have ever done in my entire life; I had to fight against my own body and mind to make it to the end, questioning my sanity the entire time, and testing my limits to the extreme. But it was all worth the feeling at the end of those 55km of heartache, sweat and tears - indescribable pride and the realisation that you CAN do anything you set your mind to, as long as you want it badly enough.

The day started off at 4:30am on Saturday... I think I can safely say that nowhere else in the world would you be woken by laughing hyenas to start a MTB race through a big five game reserve. What type of people in their right minds would drive an hour and a half into a game reserve full of Lions, Elephants, Buffaloes and other large scary game, only to hop off the bus and onto a mountain bike to ride almost 60km back to where they came from???? Crazy people.... or in my case, blissfully ignorant ones! I honestly had no idea what I had gotten myself into, and was nonchalantly brushing aside Dale's "oooooo Leechie! Are you nervous yet? It's so far...." remarks on the bus ride to the start, believing them to be poor attempts at psyching me out. I was chilled, I could do this, I'd done a couple of 20km rides in the last 6 months (okay, maybe only one...) so I'd be absolutely fine. Piece of cake.

uh.....Naat.

We started off in high spirits - a group of super-great-amazingly-fit-and-experienced-MTB-veterans..... and Leechie, AKA MTBvirgin-what-was-I-thinking-newbie.



Bus ride

Loops and I

Dale, Me, Loops and Rob (All very happy and clean)

The first 10km was actually great. Long, gradual uphills; some zooty single track through recently burnt off Rhino territory; a fun river crossing and my first encounter with sand - it almost felt like a lazy Sunday outride. I thought "this is great, 55km is going to be a walk in the park!".

What happens when old people take photos....note the ranger on the lookout for crocs! (not the shoes...)

Then came the most horrendous uphill in the whole park, a 1.5km stretch of eroded jeep track with a gradient of 89.9 degrees (actually it could possibly have been closer to 90). The mother of all bitches, the destroyer of souls, the annihilator of naivety and innocence - I think you get the picture. The only solace after walking up this monster, dragging my bike with me, was the 17km water point at the top where field rangers welcomed us with bacon and egg rolls for breakfast. Talk about a pick-me-up!

Approx 20km into the ride....see that distant hill in the middle? yup......

After a momentary interlude, we were back on the road again. The heat around this time was easily raising the mercury to about 35 degrees, and I was struggling. Hectic physical exercise, I can do - heat on the other hand is a killer to me.... By the time we hit the 34km water stop, I was ready to throw in the towel. Everything was hurting. My hurt was hurting. Serious sense of humour failure.

My husband is awesome. He watched me curl up into a ball of self pity in the shade of a parksboard vehicle, calmly fetched ice-cold water for me, stroked my head, fed me a banana, and then got me onto my feet again and onto my bike, and pushed me down the next hill. He stuck with me the whole way, encouraging and supporting me. He's amazing like that.

After my moment in the shade, I caught a second wind, and with the end in sight (not really) soldiered on towards glory and a cold beer. I can happily report that I only bailed once (into a big pile of sand) during the whole excursion, and whilst my husband laughed and took a photo, he also bailed (HA!).

 

Crossing the confluence of the Black and White Umfolozi Rivers - a truly awesome experience! (that's me in the middle)

 

Crossing that finish line in just over 6 hours was a great achievement as I almost didn't make it at all. There were no hoards of people shouting my name or throwing roses, no big hoohaa or song and dance - just that deep seeded knowledge that I had done it for myself. Me. The power of the mind is a great thing, and now that I have mastered my first big MTB challenge, I look forward to preparing for the next one - and next time around I actually will prepare a little!! Bring it on, I can do anything now. Childbirth is going to be a breeze.... ;-)

On a more serious note:

The Wild Series events are all geared towards nature conservation and fund raising for endangered species. This event really inspired and touched me. I want to do more to conserve our valuable natural assets. Did you know that more than 550 Rhino's have been poached in South Africa this year alone? We were privileged enough to see 9 Rhinos in the reserve while we were there, but if things carry on the way that they are going at the moment, I doubt that our children will have the same opportunity. Please take a moment out of your day to visit my charity page Save our Rhino's!! . If every single person who reads this blog donates just R100, I believe that R10 000 is a realistic goal. It would be the best birthday present ever.

One of the Rhinos we saw in iMfolozi this weekend - Magnificent isn't he?

This is my personal challenge to you all this week xoxoxoxo
Do you have what it takes?

Cheesy...

Whilst wallowing in my bath last night, with a cup of Earl Grey and Biltong for snacks (as one does), I had an epiphany. Not an earth stopping, mind blowing sort of epiphany, but rather a gentle uprising of suggestive thought.

I should start making my own cheese.

I mean, what goes better with wine than a good, mature cheddar cheese? And its not like I don't have access to everything I need (LOTS of milk), and the space to do it in. I'm a DAIRY farmer - it's a no-brainer really.

Just think of all the cool cheeses I could come up with - Cowda, Camoombert, Ricowtta, Moozerella (more suggestions welcome), and I could have a never ending supply! Granted, I would probably turn into a little porker, but I think it would be worth it!

Now all I have to do is find a wine varietal that will grow in the midlands, then I can make my own wine too...

This is the best idea EVER!

An update on the little guy...

So some of you may be wondering how the little calf is from last weekend's post. Shame, being a boy on a dairy farm is as hard as it gets, so this little guy really didn't have much to go with from the start! I'm happy to say that he is just peachy, and quite cheeky at that... He is TINY compared to his neighbours, but is up and about and actually trying to escape! Naughty bugger...

 

 

Look how tiny I am compared to my mates!

 

So far the weather this winter has been mild, and the days have been gorgeous, so I'm starting to wonder when the foolishness is going to start? Lovely big frost this morning, crispy fingers and nose! But perhaps bad weather is just around the corner...something wicked this way comes?

 

 

Hope it holds out for our big cycle race next weekend! We are doing the Imfolozi 50km, which involves camping and a lot of food and drink :) We'll be staying in the game reserve, so the weather better be marvelous! Cant say as much for my fitness...think I'm going to have a very sore bum at the end of it! Eish....

 

Flapper Farmer

The Golden Age
The Jazz Age
The Roaring Twenties

Call it what you may, the 1920's must have been a blast.

After attending a fabulous fiftieth at the gorgeous Farside Farm this past weekend, suitably attired for the theme of Mobsters and Molls, I'm convinced that I missed out on a whole other life. I would have made an awesome flapper.... as one of my friends so eloquently put it, I could be the "farmer flapper that frolics with frieslands".

Imagine having been a part of that so called "lost generation" - hanging in jazz clubs with the likes of Ernest Hemingway, George Bernard Shaw and F. Scott Fitzgerald; smoking a quellazaire and sporting a short bob; partaking in Charleston and Breakaway dance marathons; the music of Louis Armstrong and Joe Venuti; silent movies and stars like Greta Garbo, Charlie Chaplin and Harry Houdini - *sigh*....I could go on forever...

 

Lets be realistic though - with my affinity for wine, I probably would have been involved in some form of organised crime. As the twenties was the era of prohibition, it's almost a given that I would have been involved in bootlegging or smuggling, and I definitely would have been caught up in some risky mob business - more than likely running an illegal speakeasy or casino...

 

Truth is, I probably would have been a complete slapper flapper.

 

Either way, I definitely missed out on something here....

Saturday morning "work"

Generally getting up on a Saturday morning to go to work sucks. But my job rocks, so I don't mind at all. This morning I went to dairy, dipped tanks, injected some sick calves, took some friends on the farm to see our Blue, Crowned and Wattled Cranes (all three species in one spot today), and then bottle fed a little moo.

Just thought I'd rub it in a bit :)

Have a great weekend peeps! xxx

This little guy is 3wks premature. His mom is a first timer, so she didn't know what to do with him and he therefore needs to be bottle fed for a few days until he is strong enough to fend for himself. After his bottle he got up and head butted my leg - obviously he'll be fine!

Snow Woes

As the season begins to turn really cold, and the icy mornings are becoming more unbearable each day (I practically sit on top of the heater at dairy), I am reminded of what is still to come. That terrible four letter word - SNOW.

 

A friend of mine recently blogged about the troubles we have in the midlands with rude snow tourists (click here to read her note), and in a show of solidarity I want to repost a note from my facebook that I added last year. She received a lot of negative comments on her blog and I think people who come from outside just have no cooking clue how kak snow is when we have to work outside all day or in a restaurant serving unappreciative, rude plonkers who can go home to a nice hot bath and electricity.

 

16 August 2012 at 13:23

I think very few people who travelled to the midlands last week to revel in the white wonderland actually realise the true devastation that such a snowfall causes. Those of you who moaned about unfriendly locals and terrible service clearly failed to realise that the area had no electricity for close on a week, that no delivery vehicles could get in or out, and that these unfriendly locals had probably not had a hot shower or cup of tea for almost 3 days. Did one of you even think to stop and offer a dirty, freezing farmer a cup of tea from your own flask? Did you even bother to talk to one of them and find out that milking 500 cows without electricity twice a day for almost a week, in knee-deep snow with unhappy and freezing cows and farm workers, can make someone slightly grumpy with people who damage fences and open gates to gain access to private land? Were any of you there at 10pm at night having to herd cows back into their field because some tourist had left a gate open? Did any of you wake up on Wednesday morning with a giant gum tree sticking into your roof? We understand that snow is a great excitement for a lot of people, but at least have the decency to realise that some of us have to work in it, and maybe next time, be polite enough to ask if you may drive down our drive way and park on our lawn to play in the snow. We don't appreciate being labelled grumpy and rude by ignorant trespassers. So we'll mend the fences that you broke, pick up all the rubbish that you left behind, take your criticism with a pinch of salt, and look forward to your visit next year.

  
P.S Nothing runs (over snowmen) like a Deere...

Looking forward to seeing you all this year - my tractor is primed...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Puppy love xxx

Nothing can teach you patience quite like a puppy can. You forget what you're in for the day that those gorgeous blue eyes steal your heart away and you whisk this little brown ball of fluff home. You forget that every single pair of gumboots you own will sprout holes; that your slops will be relocated to the darkest, thorniest bush in the garden; and that your front lawn will start too look like no-mans-land with dongas and pieces of god-knows-what lying scattered all over the place. You'll dodge landmines in your kitchen for weeks, and almost kill yourself at least twice a day tripping over puppy under foot... and that's just in the beginning!

I have decided, in all my wisdom, to attempt puppy training classes this month with our 6 month old collie-x-white shepherd, Frankie. Now, for anyone who has ever owned a dog, you will know how challenging this task is. Town dogs, however,  are pieces of cake compared to dogs brought up on a farm... Somehow, Frankie just knew something was up the first day we were due to head to bootcamp, and no matter how much I pleaded and coaxed and begged, she would NOT come within 2 metres of me - just out of reach. When you have a garden that is over a hectare in size, this is a problem. With the other additions to our menagerie adding to the frustration by assuming this to be the best game EVER, I spent at least 20 minutes sprinting around the garden chasing my little brown pooch whilst being trailed by a spaniel, a Labrador and two cats, and occasionally being dive bombed by the resident drongo.

Eventually, after trapping Frankie in a corner and literally wrestling her to the ground, I managed to get a leash onto her. And it was instant - Statue dog. Not. Going. To. Move. Ever.

*Sigh*

So, giving in I hoisted her into the front of the truck (tripping over Guinness in the process) and set off for the village. Stage one complete.

Upon arrival at destination-bootcamp, I notice that we are part of a group of four ladies, with four very different dogs. This is obstacle #2 as Frankie has not socialised with other dogs before. After prying her from the passenger seat of my truck, and then retrieving her from underneath it, I try to get her to walk on the leash. Vibrating statue dog. Too. Terrified. To. Breath.

*Sigh*

Thus, I am the only owner who has to carry her dog into the training ring, where she then proceeds to sit directly behind me for the entire class, vibrating. At least she got "sit" right... When it comes to the end of the session, the dog trainer smiles sympathetically at me and says (with the slightest, knowing smirk)..."Farm dog? Don't worry, next time will be better". One can only hope...

So after probably the most traumatic day of her life, Frankie returns to the farm and immediately runs off to the bottom of the garden to find some vegetables to destroy, as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened. Now I'm the vibrating mess thinking about having to repeat the whole process all over again next week! A glass of wine you say? What a fabulous idea.....