A two-way tarred road rolls towards Collinsvale in the Kunyani/Mount Wellington ranges of southern Tasmania. It becomes narrower as it passes through the tiny town and ascends into the range. Now a single lane of dirt, it’s a weave of twists and corners and—in the middle of the day, dapple-lit due to the dense eucalyptus species that envelope the mountains.

When the road widens ever so slightly, it reveals a wonky weatherboard one-car garage. Firewood is stacked neatly and to the left is a sturdy pine picket fence. Lilac hydrangeas border the gate, which two small black beady eyes peek through. They belong to Puddin’, a staghound cross who’s keen to know who’s arrived. Liz Dunlop appears from the weatherboard home, followed by her husband James MacAlpine. You can hear the trickling sound of Myrtle Creek echo from within the valley below.

“The draw to Tassie for Liz and I was the environment,” James says. “We’d both lived and worked in Sydney and Wollongong and were looking for something that enabled us a bit more space. We grew up in rural areas on farms and were keen to be based near a capital city but have the freedom to live in a more quiet and secluded area.”

Liz and James are what Tasmanians refer to as mainlanders. Born and raised in New South Wales, the recently-wedded couple decided on a move interstate during the Covid lockdowns. Liz works in marine policy for the federal government in Hobart, and James is a civil engineer at an infrastructure planning company.

After their initial move, they inspected the three-acre hobby farm 20 km north west of the city. In awe of Myrtle Forest which canvased their view from all angles, they fell in love with the heritage red-trimmed 1914 weatherboard home that sat on the side of Collins Cap and fringed the border of the national park. With the homestead, came riparian water rights to the use of Myrtle Creek and three run down, heritage-listed picker huts. Myrtle Creek Farm was established.

Liz and James dream of creating a natural immersive space for visitors, to spread awareness of how to live sustainably and work with the land rather than forcing it to be something it isn’t.

James’ engineering attributes shine through as he pulls out a very detailed laminated project plan showcasing their aspirations. “There’ll be three stages, which will happen over two to three years,” he says. “The first will be the installation of a spa and sauna located near Myrtle Creek—purely for relaxation purposes. Visitors will be amongst Myrtle Forest, listening to the sounds of the creek.

“The second stage will be renovations to our own home. Then the last stage will be renovating the pickers huts to provide self-contained accommodation for visitors.”

“One of the huts will pose as an interpretation hut,” Liz adds. “We’ll have the story of Collinsvale and Myrtle Creek Farm inside it and the process of developing our business.”

Collinsvale was formerly known as Bismark, but changed its name during World War II amid anti-German sentiment. The mountain ranges were popular for potato and hops cultivation—as well as logging that nearly wiped out the endemic myrtle beech.

“A lot of [them] were lost in the 1900s, but luckily the forest still holds unique pockets,” Liz says. “We’re trying to regenerate the tree by planting them around our home and down near the huts.”

Introduced species like foxglove, holly trees and radiata pines have infiltrated the pristine environment of these ranges, and threaten endemic flora.

“Because we’re on the border of Kunyani/ Mount Wellington National Park, we’re conscious that whatever we do plant, could spread into the National Park,” James says. “This is why we’re committed to regenerating the area with endemic species such as Australian blackwoods, myrtle beeches and Tasmanian pepperberry trees.”

The pair are are equally conscious of their access to the unspoiled Myrtle Creek, where the water glistens and the sun peeks through the leafy forest hollows above. They hope to install hydro electricity generators that will power their home and the pickers huts.

“Our home and our property are only small,” Liz says, “but we’re using all the space and incorporating as much of the natural environmental as we can. Our end goal is to be fully off-grid.”

The couple’s commitment to their home and the land creates hope the untamed mountain ranges and regions of Tasmania will remain just that —and those who choose to live there will do so with little impact.
“Whatever we add, we want it to be sympathetic to what’s already here,” Liz says. “We don’t want to over-commercialise our home. We just want people to see how you can live with the land.”

Ingleburn is the picture of health. With drier conditions expected this summer, owners Shelley Piper and Matthew Cherry have a positive outlook on the Bureau of Meteorology’s predictions for the season.

As they walk together across a paddock at the top of their 440 hectare property, they see a breathtaking view of the landscape. A mob of Angus bulls observes them from a distance, their sleek summer coats jet black and covered with a fine layer of mud from cooling off in the dam. Matthew, 41, and Shelley, 36, tune in to the deep, lowing grunts of the bulls, as they begin discussing when they should move the stock on to the next paddock.

Situated 11 kilometres south-west of Cassilis in the Upper Hunter region of New South Wales, Ingleburn is home to Matt and Shelley and their seven-year-old twin boys Eli and Owen. The property has been in the Piper family since the 1960s when Shelley’s grandparents bought Ingleburn and farmed the land.

“When my grandparents moved here they did a lot of cropping and ran sheep,” explains Shelley. “It was my parents, Sam and Meg, who began breeding Angus bulls nearly 20 years ago.”

When Matthew and Shelley took over the reins in 2012, their passion for the Angus breed drove the couple to cultivate the breeding and genetics and grow the stud to become what it is today: Trio Angus stud.

As the couple continue walking past their young bulls in the paddock they reflect on a time when they weren’t standing in knee-high grasses at the start of summer.

“The spring of 2016 was pretty good,” Matthew begins, “but it only created a bigger fuel load running into summer and for what was to come.”

On Saturday, February 11, 2017, lightning struck the ground in the Warrumbungle Shire, 47 kilometres west of Ingleburn. That lightning strike would go on to become one of the worst bushfires experienced in New South Wales, the Sir Ivan Fire.

“The fire burned through 30 kilometres of bushland in six hours,” Shelley recounts. There’s silence as the couple mentally unpack their memories. “The Rural Fire Service weren’t able to contain it,” Matthew continues.

“That had us very worried,” Shelley adds.

By the next morning, the bushfire was at their front gate. With very little time to prepare, the couple — who only recently had brought home 11-week-old twins Eli and Owen — were forced to defend their property and push their cattle to safety from a bushfire that was so intense it created its own weather storm.

“It wasn’t safe for me to be there with the boys, so I went to Merriwa with Mum and left Dad, Matt and our two workers to do what they could,” Shelley recounts.

Ingleburn was part of 55,000 hectares of bush and farming land engulfed by the Sir Ivan Fire. Fortunately, Shelley and Matthew’s home was saved. The sheer ferocity of the fire forced the local Cassilis and Merriwa Rural Fire Brigades to seek safety at Ingleburn and, working together, they managed to protect the house and sheds. But the couple did lose cattle and farming infrastructure, which devastated them.

“Even the cattle that we had moved, a lot ended up dying from suffocation from the smoke,” Shelley recalls. “It was so intense.”

The aftermath of the bushfires saw Matthew and Shelley treating their remaining cattle for burns and sourcing feed for them. Help arrived in the form of family and friends who began rebuilding perimeter fences to keep their cattle in.

“It wasn’t pretty. The hardest part was that cows started calving the day after the fire went through,” adds Matthew. “We bottle-reared a lot of calves because the cows’ udders were all burnt.”

It’s been nearly seven years since the Sir Ivan Fire. The effects of the bushfire and the drought that followed it in 2018 and 2019 gave Matthew and Shelley time to assess how they were managing their land. This saw the couple shift to a regenerative land management model, with the guidance and support of Natures Equity’s Grazing Naturally system, developed by Dick Richardson.

“After the bushfire, we were basically starting from nothing, so we had to look at a different way of doing things that would work for our land and our stud,” explains Matthew. Shelley adds, “The process we’ve been through, from the bushfire to where we are now, gave us a really clear vision for our business.”

“Today, we are a holistic seedstock business and we are invested in the environment. This incorporates everything from the grasses we grow to the cattle that we breed on the land and to being involved in the farming community that we are a part of, which includes both our local community and the widerfarming community.”

The couple have goals for both Ingleburn and Trio Angus that include 100 per cent groundcover with endemic plant species as well as adjusting the genetics of their bulls to suit a holistic grazing process.

“In a short period of time you can see the difference already. Our country looks amazing: it’s got plenty of feed. We are breeding bulls that thrive with this style of management,” Shelley explains.

As the setting sun casts a warm golden glow across the mountains of the Coolah Tops National Park, Matthew and Shelley continue their stroll through the paddock. They take a moment to inspect the knee-high grasses that surround them. Their heads lean together as they use a small shovel to separate the grasses and excavate into the ground. The grass is dry, the colour of straw, but it dances in the gentle breeze.

A green tinge can be seen at the base of the grass, as Matthew firmly tugs at the clump he has just dug up and frees it from the dense, moist soil, exposing its extensive root system for inspection. The herd of young bulls that has been observing them continues its journey: happy, healthy and thriving on the land Matthew and Shelley are regenerating.

For more on their farming life and regenerative farming practices, follow Shelley and Matthew on Instagram @trioangus or visit their website.

Miniature dachshund Esme is the first to greet me followed by Sarah Ryan, who’s just stepped off the verandah of her century-old homestead. 

“Come in,” she smiles warmly.” I didn’t even hear you arrive until Esme started running towards the door.” 

The first time I meet Rob Porteous at work, I don’t have to travel far – just a two-minute drive up our property’s laneway. I arrive in what we call ‘ironbark paddock’, which has an undulating rise with a mixture of gravel at the top of the hill and perennial pastures at the base. There’s a dam nearby and surrounding the boundary is a forest of eucalyptus sideroxylon – better known as mugga or ironbark. To us, it’s a small paddock we usually reserve for sheep making their way towards the yards. To Rob, it’s a beekeeper’s dream.