More than a good yarn: How prize-winning alpaca fleece sparked romance
They also enjoy socialising with other graziers who came from far and wide.
Fellow grazier Brett Fallon spent about $5000 to drive 14 of his best alpacas 3200km to Bendigo in a large float, from his farm near Albany, in southern Western Australia.
The four-day drive was 'completely worth it', he said, and his sale of five of them at Bendigo more than paid for the trip.
While there are no cash prizes for winning a category at the show, there are flow-on benefits.
Fallon said a winner of the top Supreme Champion prize at the nationals one year sold for $80,000 and another year's champion sold for $50,000. He said this year's most highly rated alpacas could sell for $20,000 or more.
Fallon is also president of the Australian Alpaca Association and the grandson of dairy farmers. But 24 years ago, at age 16, he bought his first two alpacas — two pregnant females — and now has a flock of 350.
He says alpacas require less grazing land than beef cattle or sheep, and need less tending.
As well as being a grazier, and heading the industry association, Fallon works full-time as a farm business consultant and mortgage broker.
Graziers Janelle and Byron Jago, from Orielton, near Hobart, brought 14 alpacas to the mainland on the Spirit of Tasmania ferry and drove to the show at Bendigo from the dock at Corio.
Janelle said she was 'a little overwhelmed' that her eight-month-old alpaca Toffeemont Cranakan — named after Toffeemont, their stud, and inspired by cranachan, a Scottish sweet — won champion junior male and best fawn coloured alpaca at the show.
A breeder from Germany has already asked to lease the animal and take it to Europe for a breeding season.
Other alpacas of Jago's were awarded three seconds and one third place. 'It's absolutely the best show we've had in 20 years of showing,' she said.
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West Australian
4 hours ago
- West Australian
Visiting Daresbury, the birthplace of author Lewis Carroll in Cheshire
Travel stories about Lewis Carroll often take readers to Oxford, where the writer lived, studied, taught, and penned Alice's Adventures In Wonderland. It was in that esteemed university city where Carroll took a 10-year-old Alice Liddell — the daughter of his friend, the dean of Oxford's Christ Church College — for a much-mythologised boat ride on the River Isis. As he rowed, he entertained her with tales of fantastical characters and whimsical encounters he would later braid into his legendary 1865 novel. But it was a few decades earlier, in another bucolic, waterway-sliced part of England, where Carroll's imagination and creativity flourished. I am in Daresbury, a tiny, sleepy village in the county of Cheshire in the north-west of England. Carroll was born here, as Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, in 1832, and lived here until the age of 11. He was one of 11 children of mother Frances and father the Reverend Charles Dodgson, the Scottish-born, Oxford-educated vicar of the village's All Saints' Church. Today, walking through the tree-shaded graveyard, I step into the church, which was largely rebuilt in the 1870s, after the Dodgsons' departure from Daresbury. The interior is cool and handsome, all neat sandstone and carved wood. The sun is streaking through the stained-glass windows, which include a special memorial one honouring Carroll. By the entrance, you can buy jars of Cheshire honey and various gifts — books, tea towels, fridge magnets — illustrated with Wonderland's protagonist and anthropomorphic creatures. Attached to the church is a small modern annex that houses the admission-free Lewis Carroll Centre. Information panels and archive pictures detail the writer's Cheshire upbringing and how it sowed the seeds for his future endeavours. Fond of playing in the Daresbury countryside, where he would invent games and stories involving toads, earthworms and snails, young Charles was initially expected to follow in his father's footsteps and devote himself to the Anglican Church. He was, in 1861, ordained a deacon, but never became a priest and instead followed his passions for mathematics and literature. Besides writing stories, he was a prolific correspondent, penning more than 50,000 letters in his lifetime. His pseudonym was a play on the Latin versions of Charles (Carolus, spawning Carroll) and Lutwidge (Ludovicus, resulting in Lewis). He was also keen on those new-fangled cameras that were coming into fashion, and is thought to have snapped more than 3000 developed photographs over his lifetime. Some have become contentious with age, especially the ones he took of children. His collection ranged from shots of young Alice Liddell in different costumes — including one of her dressed up as a beggar maid — to portraits of Victorian-era celebrities like the poet Alfred Lord Tennyson and pre-Raphaelite painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Though he gave up his hobby in 1880, remarking that 'it had become a very tiring amusement', Carroll also took photographs of people and places in Daresbury when he returned as an adult. It was a time of great change for the area, with the Industrial Revolution bringing railways, mills and factories to a county that had long been dominated by farming. Carroll's birthplace, the Daresbury village parsonage, burned down in a fire in 1883. Its former location is on one of the local walking trails, and is now under the care of the National Trust, with the site marked with floor outlines and wrought-iron sculptures. Carroll died a bachelor in 1898, aged 65. Daresbury has obviously changed since his day — there's a near-constant faint hum of motorised traffic, with the busy A56 road bringing cars and trucks right by the village — yet it still retains its rural essence. There's a tinge of manure in the breeze as I wander beyond the church and watch sheep, lambs and ponies grazing in the verdant fields. In the other direction, by the village hall, there's Daresbury's sole pub, the Ring O' Bells, which has a rustic-cosy interior behind its mock-Tudor facade and provides tempting options for food and drink. You won't find much else in the immediate vicinity, although you're not too far from larger settlements: Warrington (15 minutes up the road), Chester (half-hour south) or Liverpool (45 minutes to the west). Walking up Daresbury's gently rising main street, I see quaint stone cottages and new housing estates with red-brick houses built to look older than they are. About 250 people live in the village now and it remains desirable, particularly for young families. I pass Daresbury's primary school and can hear children playing loudly on their lunch break. Glancing up at the building's roof, I see the village's famously quirky weathervane. It was donated by the local blacksmith upon his retirement in 1968 but had fallen into a sorry state before fund-raising by the school and the wider community restored it to its former glory. Looking at the weathervane, I see its painted figures of Alice, the White Rabbit and the Mad Hatter. And I find myself grinning, a bit like the Cheshire Cat. + The Lewis Carroll Centre is open daily from 10am, apart from Sunday when, it's 2pm. It closes at 6pm in the northern summer, with earlier closing times in the darker months. For more information, see + For more information on visiting Cheshire, see + To help plan a trip to Britain, see

Sydney Morning Herald
2 days ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
This master filmmaker realised his work was meaningless. So he made more art
When he won the Palme d'Or with Uncle Boonme in 2010, he was approached to make independent American films – but preferred writing his own and working with his trusted producers. So, was he never offered a Hollywood superhero movie? 'I wish,' Weerasethakul says. 'That would make my day.' But he quickly plays down his interest. 'I really like special effects so if I do it, it will be to learn that.' For the new installation, Weerasethakul wanted to create 'something about movement, about components of cinema, about activating space that is not normally there'. It continues one of the masters of slow cinema's fascination with dreams, nature, time, ghosts and memory. After earlier versions were exhibited in Bangkok and Japan, Weerasethakul recruited two artists from Bangkok experimental studio DuckUnit, Rueangrith Suntisuk and Pornpan Arayaveerasid, to create a new version with him for the MCA. He says installations allow him to create a different relationship between the viewer and the image than he can with a film. 'In cinemas, you just become zombies,' he says. 'Just hypnotised.' While he tries to break that down by making audiences more aware of time than in a conventional film – using such techniques as a meditative pace, unusual sounds and unexpected framing – an installation lets the viewer create their own experience. MCA senior curator Jane Devery says Weerasethakul is rare among artists for having equal status in film and visual arts. 'With film, it's generally 90 minutes long, you sit in a theatre and you're kind of directed how to behave and how to experience the work, whereas with installation the viewer has greater agency,' she says. 'You can choose what to look at, how much time you spend here, how you move around the work. So it's a very different experience.' When he last visited for the opening of an installation at the Sydney Biennale in 2016, Weerasethakul was planning to make his first film outside Thailand because of concerns about censorship at a politically volatile time. That became Memoria, which had Swinton as a Scottish expat in Colombia searching for the source of strange booming sound that only she could hear. Weerasethakul is no longer worried about Thailand authorities blocking artistic expression. Loading 'Questions [about] authority, the monarchy and all these taboos shifted really quickly and there are more younger people allowed to lead,' he says. 'As an older generation, I used to lose hope in living there and so-called freedom. Now it's much more open.' Despite that change, Weerasethakul is still planning to shoot his next film outside Thailand. He will shoot what's reportedly called The Fountains of Paradise, inspired by writer Arthur C. Clarke's life, in Sri Lanka with Swinton starring again. 'It's going to be focused on Sigiriya, this mountain rock in Sri Lanka,' Weerasethakul says. 'That's a big fascination for me. 'In Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Richard Dreyfuss was really attracted to this mountain. It's the same for me.' Swinton has become such a muse that she also features in a new installation opening in Amsterdam next month. 'Because of her playfulness, it's almost like she's water or something I can sculpt and play together,' he says.

The Age
2 days ago
- The Age
This master filmmaker realised his work was meaningless. So he made more art
When he won the Palme d'Or with Uncle Boonme in 2010, he was approached to make independent American films – but preferred writing his own and working with his trusted producers. So, was he never offered a Hollywood superhero movie? 'I wish,' Weerasethakul says. 'That would make my day.' But he quickly plays down his interest. 'I really like special effects so if I do it, it will be to learn that.' For the new installation, Weerasethakul wanted to create 'something about movement, about components of cinema, about activating space that is not normally there'. It continues one of the masters of slow cinema's fascination with dreams, nature, time, ghosts and memory. After earlier versions were exhibited in Bangkok and Japan, Weerasethakul recruited two artists from Bangkok experimental studio DuckUnit, Rueangrith Suntisuk and Pornpan Arayaveerasid, to create a new version with him for the MCA. He says installations allow him to create a different relationship between the viewer and the image than he can with a film. 'In cinemas, you just become zombies,' he says. 'Just hypnotised.' While he tries to break that down by making audiences more aware of time than in a conventional film – using such techniques as a meditative pace, unusual sounds and unexpected framing – an installation lets the viewer create their own experience. MCA senior curator Jane Devery says Weerasethakul is rare among artists for having equal status in film and visual arts. 'With film, it's generally 90 minutes long, you sit in a theatre and you're kind of directed how to behave and how to experience the work, whereas with installation the viewer has greater agency,' she says. 'You can choose what to look at, how much time you spend here, how you move around the work. So it's a very different experience.' When he last visited for the opening of an installation at the Sydney Biennale in 2016, Weerasethakul was planning to make his first film outside Thailand because of concerns about censorship at a politically volatile time. That became Memoria, which had Swinton as a Scottish expat in Colombia searching for the source of strange booming sound that only she could hear. Weerasethakul is no longer worried about Thailand authorities blocking artistic expression. Loading 'Questions [about] authority, the monarchy and all these taboos shifted really quickly and there are more younger people allowed to lead,' he says. 'As an older generation, I used to lose hope in living there and so-called freedom. Now it's much more open.' Despite that change, Weerasethakul is still planning to shoot his next film outside Thailand. He will shoot what's reportedly called The Fountains of Paradise, inspired by writer Arthur C. Clarke's life, in Sri Lanka with Swinton starring again. 'It's going to be focused on Sigiriya, this mountain rock in Sri Lanka,' Weerasethakul says. 'That's a big fascination for me. 'In Close Encounters of the Third Kind, Richard Dreyfuss was really attracted to this mountain. It's the same for me.' Swinton has become such a muse that she also features in a new installation opening in Amsterdam next month. 'Because of her playfulness, it's almost like she's water or something I can sculpt and play together,' he says.