There were seven or so wwoofers already there when I arrived. I set up my tent down the path to the Edith River. Each night I stumbled to it, scaring away the wallabies and jumping over the cane toads. Yes, the cane toads have made it all the way through the Northern Territory. In the 1930’s they were hastily introduced by scientists, pressured by the government to find a fast answer to the insects which devoured the crops of sugar cane every year. The toads were meant to control the cane and frenchie beetle population, and would've proven successful if not for the fact that they can't climb the stalks and reproduce in astronomical numbers. And unfortunately, the poisonous glands on their backs have been fatal and potentially endangering to many species of birds, snakes, and animals looking for a meal. So now they flourish. Luckily the butcher birds, possibly amongst others, developed the knowledge to flip the toads over before killing them, thus avoiding the glands. Bird brains have evolved!
 

This wwoof site was probably the most extreme when it comes to work, weather, and food. To avoid the midday sun, we were up and ready to work by 6:30, stopped for smoko (traditionally, a short name for a smoking break), stopped for lunch, and finished after five hours of actual work time. It was still winter, the dry season in Australia, with temperatures reaching above 100 degrees every day. After work we all would take a dip in the waterhole to cool off, trying hard not to think about the salt water crocodile that feasted on the neighbor's dog last week. They swore to us this stream was safe and they were probably right, but for most folks in this country, laid back is the attitude and sarcasm is the humor. So who knows for sure where the crocs are swimming. The two dogs on the property, Gypsy and Jezabel had a job too. They chased away the wallabies, rabbits, and whatever else that got past the fence.  It was a special treat if they caught anything, for us that is. We enjoyed wallaby one night. A few days later it was our luck when wandering livestock feasted on a crop of vegetables. Apparently, John's only option was to sacrifice the poor animal. She might've been the only non-organic thing we ate, but fresh is an understatement. On days off we camped at Nitmuluk, the campground at the gorge where we kayaked, hiked around, relaxed, and rendezvous with friends. 

Hitchhiking is still considered reasonably safe in most of Australia and probably all of New Zealand, as long as you use common sense. The greyhound bus is another means of transportation if you don't buy a car. Getting around was never a problem. Between wwoof sites I generally took a day or so off, booked into hostels and enjoyed the time. Due to complete isolation, I was forced to save money which then allowed me to splurge a bit on days off.  I spent anywhere from a few days to a few weeks at each place, making my way around both countries. I was surprised and envious to find wwoofers staying for months at a time. 

One of the many stops in New Zealand I made was in Manakau. It’s a small village on the North Island, an hour north of Wellington. There, Pip welcomed me into her home on her family run dairy farm. It's a beautiful piece of land between the rolling hills of the Tararua forest and the short plain which stretches to the Tasman Sea. She practiced organic permaculture, alternative medicine, self-sufficiency, and treated victims of chemical poisoning.  Nothing was wasted, from cow tongue to flower petals. The value of what I learned there is priceless. In my spare time I explored the property, climbing the rolling hillside, with views of the ocean, and of John and the dogs herding his sheep. It felt a lot like Frauline Maria meets Little Bo Peep. The hills were steeply graded and for the most part, cleared for grazing. I weaved back down on the north side of the property through the rows of pine trees strategically planted as a retirement fund. 

The work there was pretty laid back. The first few days in the mornings I weeded the gardens. When that was finished, Pip pointed out certain native ferns. Some of these were to be extracted from her garden and later planted elsewhere in an attempt to reforest the countryside with natives. One day was spent apricot picking, another, helping the milking of the cows. Pip also treated people suffering from pain and chemical poisoning. I was fortunate enough to experience a few scenar treatments, where a battery powered devise pointed at specific areas on my back and shot electromagnetic energy. Afterwards as part of the treatment, she wrapped me in a copper coated blanket and laid me down in front of Mr. Bean. It was like one of those ionizing bracelets around your whole body. After Manakau, I spent a few days in Wellington re-toxifying my body at the many pubs and clubs. Taking a break from wwoof usually was an unhealthy binge, but always good times!

Now back in New York I’m regretting that I didn’t take more time. I brought home many ideas and a greater understanding of ways to a healthy lifestyle. More importantly, sharing my experience with others will hopefully encourage more Americans to travel. This kind of trip will either develop or reinforce a fertile perspective on life.  All that is required is an open mind, a sense of adventure, and a willingness to get your hands dirty. For more information about Willing Workers on Organic Farms, go to the international site www.wwoof.org, which will link you to specific countries…and happy travels!

For additional information on wwoof see:

• www.organicfacts.net/comprehensive-reports/
• wwoof-fundamentals/comprehensive-report-wwoof-fundamentals.html

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