Opinion by Lynne Strong

I live on a dairy farm clinging to the northeastern slope of Saddleback Mountain, Jamberoo. This is perfect dairy country, and for good reason. Rainfall here is reliable (well used to be), soaking the volcanic soil and making our grass some of the best you’ll find. 

When I sit on my verandah, I see rolling green hills to the west and the ocean towards the coast, dotted with black-and-white cows that in the early days were called Magpie cows and Jersey cows. It’s a postcard view, but for me, it’s just home. Like most locals, I know this mountain as more than a pretty backdrop—it’s part of my daily life.

Saddleback has its quirks. On misty mornings, the fog creeps in so thick you can hardly see the fenceposts, let alone the cows. The old dry-stone walls, built by hand generations ago, look like something out of a storybook. There’s a kind of quiet magic here. Even the cows seem to feel it.

We’re proud to share this place with visitors. Hikers come for the views, photographers for the perfect shot. And they’re not wrong—the lookouts at the summit are breathtaking. On a clear day, you can see as far as Cronulla to the north and Milton to the south. But there’s more to Saddleback than what meets the eye.

The mountain’s history is as rich as its soil. The dry-stone walls that criss-cross the lower slopes are a legacy of hard work, crafted by settlers who cleared the Illawarra scrub to make way for dairy farms like mine. Hoddles Track, carved through the ridges by surveyor Robert Hoddle in the 1800s, whispers of a time when this area was wild and untamed.

Living here is rewarding in ways city life can’t touch. Every drop of milk that leaves this farm comes from those perfect, rain-fed pastures on the side of Saddleback. Every day begins and ends with the rhythm of the mountain—stunning sunrises. mist rising, sun falling, the cows never too far away.

Saddleback Mountain isn’t just a place to live. It’s a partner in every part of my life. It’s home, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.