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High Country Woman. My Life On Rees Valley Station
A special book about a unique New Zealand high-country farmer and her historic sheep station. New Zealand's high country farmers are a special breed. They farm in tough terrain, at high altitudes, in areas where extreme climate puts both man and animal to the test. When she was widowed, with three children, in 1992 Iris Scott had to call on all her farming skill and inner strength to carry on as the runholder of the 150-year-old, 18,000-hectare Rees Valley Station at the head of Lake Wakatipu, near Glenorchy. Not only that, she had to run the station on her own and keep up her veterinary practice. High Country Woman is the engaging story of Iris Scott's love of our high country and her determination to farm it successfully while upholding high conservation and land-guardianship values. The book also covers the fascinating history of the area long known to locals as The Head of the Lake, the focus of William Rees' great sheep run, established not long after he and Nicolas von Tunzelman became two of the earliest Europeans to travel into the area in an epic exploration feat in 1860.
- GenresNonfiction
352 pages, Paperback
First published May 1, 2012
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20 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
January 27, 2014
I found the writing too dry, factual, impersonal, and safe. I missed stories depicting high country characters and felt I was kept at arm's length from the author's life. The landscape photography honors the outstanding environment, but the writing did not captivate me. The political pleas were repetitive and took too much room. I enjoyed reading Christine Fernyhough's book about her experiences on a New Zealand high country station much more.
February 6, 2015
This book finally came free at the library after a couple of years on my must read list: I love a good down on the farm yarn and was keen to get vicariously stuck into a bit of high country life.
I romped through the first few chapters, giving me a bit of what I was after: the tale of how a North Island vet came to live on and finally run with her children, Rees Valley station in Otago. This story was interspersed with some history of the family and the area, stretching out my interest to get to the end of the story: how did she come to manage it on her own? We get there in chapter 6.
It was here I started to wonder what the book was trying to be. It’s billed as covering the history of the area, and to give the book its dues, it achieves this well in the few chapters that cover this. It’s also half photos, half text: like a novel-sized coffee table book.
I was expecting a Mona Anderson, A River Rules My Life-esque collection of yarn after readable, good-natured yarn of life in the high country. The problem is, the only yarn of the book is over in chapter 6. The rest is a collection of chapters of light touches on different aspects of life on the farm: the dogs, the horses, the vehicles (I kid you not), the huts, tourism, the ski field, conservation. Yarns these aren’t: some of what passes for stories are just a few sentences, like great-Uncle Bob’s anecdotes at Christmas. Here’s how one goes at the end of the book: essentially Iris Scott picks up “French Simon”, a hiker that had walked in snow for days and was cold and miserable. It continues: “He got a lift on the back tray of the Land Rover to the main road, a slow trip as the cows and calves were being mustered”. On to the next paragraph to hear a little more of French Simon… No, it’s now a Czech couple also getting a lift and also encountering snow, all covered in a gripping three sentences.
The light touch given to the few issues of the day covered in the book were really missed opportunities to give it some much-needed depth. Iris Scott has some strongly held views on the tenure review process due to her experiences with it on the station. Instead of a good look at the issue, we get one side of the story and repetition of it at that.
I wasn’t sure whether I was reading Iris’s voice or the co-author’s. I had to go hunting on line to discover that Geraldine O’Sullivan Beere is Iris Scott’s old school friend with a background in comms, writing her first book. Iris’s love for the land and the sheer grit and tenacity needed really come through: at times it read like the transcript of conversations with Iris round the kitchen table or in the ute. But warmth was lacking: the cause being the largely impersonal subject matter and a defensive, preachy tone in the issues of the day parts of the book. One example of many, this one covering trampers on the Rees Dart walkway that uses the station:
Many visitors do not understand the unwritten creeds that previous generations have grown up with. Those who regularly work, live and play in the high country develop that understanding over many years; the lore and ethics get passed down and passed around.”
Sadly, passed down and around to people other than the readers of this book it seems. Another lost opportunity to add some teeth to some tired soapbox statements. A bit more showing not telling and a bit more educating would’ve make this a more readable and worthwhile book.
I romped through the first few chapters, giving me a bit of what I was after: the tale of how a North Island vet came to live on and finally run with her children, Rees Valley station in Otago. This story was interspersed with some history of the family and the area, stretching out my interest to get to the end of the story: how did she come to manage it on her own? We get there in chapter 6.
It was here I started to wonder what the book was trying to be. It’s billed as covering the history of the area, and to give the book its dues, it achieves this well in the few chapters that cover this. It’s also half photos, half text: like a novel-sized coffee table book.
I was expecting a Mona Anderson, A River Rules My Life-esque collection of yarn after readable, good-natured yarn of life in the high country. The problem is, the only yarn of the book is over in chapter 6. The rest is a collection of chapters of light touches on different aspects of life on the farm: the dogs, the horses, the vehicles (I kid you not), the huts, tourism, the ski field, conservation. Yarns these aren’t: some of what passes for stories are just a few sentences, like great-Uncle Bob’s anecdotes at Christmas. Here’s how one goes at the end of the book: essentially Iris Scott picks up “French Simon”, a hiker that had walked in snow for days and was cold and miserable. It continues: “He got a lift on the back tray of the Land Rover to the main road, a slow trip as the cows and calves were being mustered”. On to the next paragraph to hear a little more of French Simon… No, it’s now a Czech couple also getting a lift and also encountering snow, all covered in a gripping three sentences.
The light touch given to the few issues of the day covered in the book were really missed opportunities to give it some much-needed depth. Iris Scott has some strongly held views on the tenure review process due to her experiences with it on the station. Instead of a good look at the issue, we get one side of the story and repetition of it at that.
I wasn’t sure whether I was reading Iris’s voice or the co-author’s. I had to go hunting on line to discover that Geraldine O’Sullivan Beere is Iris Scott’s old school friend with a background in comms, writing her first book. Iris’s love for the land and the sheer grit and tenacity needed really come through: at times it read like the transcript of conversations with Iris round the kitchen table or in the ute. But warmth was lacking: the cause being the largely impersonal subject matter and a defensive, preachy tone in the issues of the day parts of the book. One example of many, this one covering trampers on the Rees Dart walkway that uses the station:
Many visitors do not understand the unwritten creeds that previous generations have grown up with. Those who regularly work, live and play in the high country develop that understanding over many years; the lore and ethics get passed down and passed around.”
Sadly, passed down and around to people other than the readers of this book it seems. Another lost opportunity to add some teeth to some tired soapbox statements. A bit more showing not telling and a bit more educating would’ve make this a more readable and worthwhile book.
December 5, 2022
This book would’ve benefited from an editor. There’s a lot of rambling on vaguely anti-DOC, anti-modernity, and anti-tourist themes, and the author is shockingly unaware of her colonialism (“Glenorchy has always been a Scot’s place”— as if history started when Europeans arrived). Also, “high country”?— most of Rees Valley station sits below 500m.
February 19, 2019
Very easy to read. Made me cry i so much miss being out of the city.
August 29, 2020
A very easy read. Good description of high country life from a women’s point of view
December 22, 2020
Disappointing thought it would be more about the actual day to day running of a High Country Farm but a lot of it was Farm politics
February 6, 2015
This book finally came free at the library after a couple of years on my must read list: I love a good down on the farm yarn and was keen to get vicariously stuck into a bit of high country life.
I romped through the first few chapters, giving me a bit of what I was after: the tale of how a North Island vet came to live on and finally run with her children, Rees Valley station in Otago. This story was interspersed with some history of the family and the area, stretching out my interest to get to the end of the story: how did she come to manage it on her own? We get there in chapter 6.
It was here I started to wonder what the book was trying to be. It’s billed as covering the history of the area, and to give the book its dues, it achieves this well in the few chapters that cover this. It’s also half photos, half text: like a novel-sized coffee table book.
I was expecting a Mona Anderson, A River Rules My Life-esque collection of yarn after readable, good-natured yarn of life in the high country. The problem is, the only yarn of the book is over in chapter 6. The rest is a collection of chapters of light touches on different aspects of life on the farm: the dogs, the horses, the vehicles (I kid you not), the huts, tourism, the ski field, conservation. Yarns these aren’t: some of what passes for stories are just a few sentences, like great-Uncle Bob’s anecdotes at Christmas. Here’s how one goes at the end of the book: essentially Iris Scott picks up “French Simon”, a hiker that had walked in snow for days and was cold and miserable. It continues: “He got a lift on the back tray of the Land Rover to the main road, a slow trip as the cows and calves were being mustered”. On to the next paragraph to hear a little more of French Simon… No, it’s now a Czech couple also getting a lift and also encountering snow, all covered in a gripping three sentences.
The light touch given to the few issues of the day covered in the book were really missed opportunities to give it some much-needed depth. Iris Scott has some strongly held views on the tenure review process due to her experiences with it on the station. Instead of a good look at the issue, we get one side of the story and repetition of it at that.
I wasn’t sure whether I was reading Iris’s voice or the co-author’s. I had to go hunting on line to discover that Geraldine O’Sullivan Beere is Iris Scott’s old school friend with a background in comms, writing her first book. Iris’s love for the land and the sheer grit and tenacity needed really come through: at times it read like the transcript of conversations with Iris round the kitchen table or in the ute. But warmth was lacking: the cause being the largely impersonal subject matter and a defensive, preachy tone in the issues of the day parts of the book. One example of many, this one covering trampers on the Rees Dart walkway that uses the station:
Many visitors do not understand the unwritten creeds that previous generations have grown up with. Those who regularly work, live and play in the high country develop that understanding over many years; the lore and ethics get passed down and passed around.”
Sadly, passed down and around to people other than the readers of this book it seems. Another lost opportunity to add some teeth to some tired soapbox statements. A bit more showing not telling and a bit more educating would’ve make this a more readable and worthwhile book.
I romped through the first few chapters, giving me a bit of what I was after: the tale of how a North Island vet came to live on and finally run with her children, Rees Valley station in Otago. This story was interspersed with some history of the family and the area, stretching out my interest to get to the end of the story: how did she come to manage it on her own? We get there in chapter 6.
It was here I started to wonder what the book was trying to be. It’s billed as covering the history of the area, and to give the book its dues, it achieves this well in the few chapters that cover this. It’s also half photos, half text: like a novel-sized coffee table book.
I was expecting a Mona Anderson, A River Rules My Life-esque collection of yarn after readable, good-natured yarn of life in the high country. The problem is, the only yarn of the book is over in chapter 6. The rest is a collection of chapters of light touches on different aspects of life on the farm: the dogs, the horses, the vehicles (I kid you not), the huts, tourism, the ski field, conservation. Yarns these aren’t: some of what passes for stories are just a few sentences, like great-Uncle Bob’s anecdotes at Christmas. Here’s how one goes at the end of the book: essentially Iris Scott picks up “French Simon”, a hiker that had walked in snow for days and was cold and miserable. It continues: “He got a lift on the back tray of the Land Rover to the main road, a slow trip as the cows and calves were being mustered”. On to the next paragraph to hear a little more of French Simon… No, it’s now a Czech couple also getting a lift and also encountering snow, all covered in a gripping three sentences.
The light touch given to the few issues of the day covered in the book were really missed opportunities to give it some much-needed depth. Iris Scott has some strongly held views on the tenure review process due to her experiences with it on the station. Instead of a good look at the issue, we get one side of the story and repetition of it at that.
I wasn’t sure whether I was reading Iris’s voice or the co-author’s. I had to go hunting on line to discover that Geraldine O’Sullivan Beere is Iris Scott’s old school friend with a background in comms, writing her first book. Iris’s love for the land and the sheer grit and tenacity needed really come through: at times it read like the transcript of conversations with Iris round the kitchen table or in the ute. But warmth was lacking: the cause being the largely impersonal subject matter and a defensive, preachy tone in the issues of the day parts of the book. One example of many, this one covering trampers on the Rees Dart walkway that uses the station:
Many visitors do not understand the unwritten creeds that previous generations have grown up with. Those who regularly work, live and play in the high country develop that understanding over many years; the lore and ethics get passed down and passed around.”
Sadly, passed down and around to people other than the readers of this book it seems. Another lost opportunity to add some teeth to some tired soapbox statements. A bit more showing not telling and a bit more educating would’ve make this a more readable and worthwhile book.
March 22, 2016
I bought this book at the Queenstown airport and read it on my way back home from a visit to New Zealand. Scott does a very good job of relating her background, the history of the high country station that she runs and the area, as well as perspective on the the current situation for high country farms in New Zealand. I found the differences and similarities to some stock-raising operations in the US very interesting.
The historical photographs are nice and the scenic photos are stunning.
The historical photographs are nice and the scenic photos are stunning.
May 18, 2012
I enjoyed this, probably because I know the Glenorchy area in Southern NZ quite well and loved the photos and glimpses of settler history. The writing style was very straight forward; no poetic writing here, but it reflected the subject matter well.
May 29, 2012
Very interesting book which I enjoyed it very much. I originally came from Glenorchy so great to see all the photos as well. Well done Iris.
November 2, 2012
Chosen, random style, to be book #62 for 2012
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews