Spinning in the Hog Island Grease

Limpopo and Anita, Hog Island Ewes

Hog Island sheep have lots and lots of lanolin in their wool. Lots. And lots. Just petting them is enough to leave your hands coated and shiny. Because they evolved on a coastal barrier island, Hog Island sheep needed high lanolin production to give them protection from the elements. The women who lived on the island would have taken on the work of processing the wool and hand spinning yarn. One of the questions I’d like to answer while researching the sheep on Hog Island is whether or not the islanders fully scoured the wool or did they spin it raw – in the grease? Probably a mix of both.

Lanolin is a waxy substance secreted by sebaceous glands on sheep. It coats their wool fibers and keeps them reasonably weather proof, protecting them from having to carry around pounds of soggy wool. You can find lanolin in many skin care products; it’s extracted from wool after shearing. It’s considered an emollient – it moisturizes skin, as well as an occlusive – it creates a barrier on the skin to seal in moisture.

I’ve been planning to spin and knit something in the grease for a while now, and the stars have finally aligned. Pete and I ended up hand shearing all of our sheep this year, and Limpopo’s fleece really stood out to me. It’s very soft and fine, very greasy, and has a staple length around 4″. It’s open and lofty and looks like a good candidate for my experiment. It also looks like it would make an exquisite shawl, but that will require scouring and carding before spinning, so I’ll put that off until later.

I didn’t want to gum up either my drum carder or hand cards with lanolin, so I planned to either spin from the fold, or pull open the locks and spin from the cloud. Can you even make a cloud from raw wool? Yes, it turns out that you can. I didn’t want to gum up either of my two new wheels, so I’m spinning the greasy yarn on my old Ashford Traditional.

Raw wool yarn – pretty junky until I started cutting the tips off!

Doing work around the farm and garden means my hands are in and out of water all day, and my feet get sweaty in barn boots and shoes. My skin gets dry, even in the summer, and I wondered if I could put some of the greasy Hog Island handspun yarn to work on the job. So, I’m currently spun raw wool and planning to knit either mittens or socks, or both. Eventually, I’d love to experiment with knitting a hat or even simple sweater with greasy yarn, just to see how they would work in everyday life around the farm.

Tips for successfully spinning in the grease –

  1. Freshly shorn wool. Lanolin is at its freshest right after the wool comes off of sheep. Over time, it will solidify and the fibers won’t slide past each other anymore, making drafting a sticky nightmare.
  2. Warm temperatures. Along with fresh wool, spinning in the grease in late spring and summer help keep lanolin liquid. Warmer air temps help delay lanolin solidifying and keep drafting smooth.
  3. Staple length. I find longer staples easier to spin in the grease. I’m generally spinning worsted (inch-worm) style from the cloud, but if you have shorter wool, try long draw or supported long draw.
  4. Deal with dirty tips. Raw wool often has dirty tips. You can simply flick open the ends, or you can cut them off if they’re really dirty and damaged. In the case of my Hog Island ewes, the tips are often weathered and full of junk and don’t clean easily. I’ve spun them after flicking them open, but the yarn I spun after cutting off the tips is much nicer.
  5. Greasy Breed. This may seem self explanatory, but not all sheep produce lots of lanolin. Hog Island is one of the greasier heritage breeds. CVM/Romeldale is another good candidate. If you want to try spinning raw wool that isn’t super greasy, try a freshly shorn Jacob fleece.

Extremely Slow Fashion

The slow fashion movement has interested me for years. The philosophy behind it, understanding the origins and process behind your clothing and choosing those pieces least harmful to people, animals, and the planet, falls right into my own mission. It was this philosophy that, as a novice knitter, led me to learn how to spin fleece into yarn and eventually wind up with my own fiber-producing herd of llamas and alpacas.

These days knitting and crochet have become very popular and there are countless independent brands producing yarns from ethically sourced fleece and fiber. Thanks to sites like Etsy you can buy raw wool or carded/combed fleece directly from farms and other small companies. (Including my own!) The growth of DIY fiber arts and crafts has been another reflection of the slow fashion movement. What is slower and more worthwhile than spinning your own yarn and knitting a lovely sweater to your own specifications?

But, my journey through slow fashion has hit a major snag. And that is my current obsession with sewing. The way that we, as a global industry, produce fabric is the absolute opposite of earth friendly. For example, if you go to the average fabric store in any American city, you find lots of lovely fabric, and usually a sticker or note that says “made in America” or “made in China” but absolutely no information about the source of the fiber and where it was processed.

For example, you may find a nice cotton that says it was made in America. Great. But you don’t get the whole story. That cotton may have been grown in Texas, sent to China for processing, India for spinning, sent to Spain for dyeing, then sent back to the US for sale. That is most certainly not a small carbon footprint! If the fabric is to be used in the commercial garment trade it would have even more of a journey as it would probably end up someplace like Indonesia for cutting and sewing. For more about that, you can read this BBC article that was published 2 days ago.

If you were able to obtain the supply chain involved in the creation of your fabric, there are still big pieces missing. How was the fiber farmed? Was there heavy pesticide use, were the sheep treated well, were the workers paid a fair wage and treated decently? This kind of transparency is not only lacking, it is most likely completely impractical in our current global system of cloth production.

I’ve been researching this topic for months now and I’m no closer to finding a good solution. I could do what I did way back when I couldn’t find the yarn that I wanted. I learned to make it myself. I am a weaver, though I haven’t touched my loom in several years. And I do have plenty of fleece from the llamas and alpacas (and local sheep!) that would make lovely fabric. Doing it all myself would most definitely be slow! I’ll be exploring more options in the coming months and will record my ideas, experiments, and analysis here.

Most of them, anyway.