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Our first W.W.O.O.F. (Willing Workers on Organic Farms)

11/26/09

he said:

Soooo.....for future reference, when you’re out on a limb doing something new, throwing caution to the wind, completely picking a place you will go by the seat of your pants may not always be the wisest decision. For example, our first W.W.O.O.F. experience. As we drive up the curvy, cragged and beautiful west side of the coromandel peninsula, Summer becomes quite. At first I’m unsure if it’s the roads making her carsick, or something else. Then I realize, it’s nerves. We both have very little clue of what this place we are cruising towards will hold for us and the reality of this is beginning to set in. After some struggle and numerous back tracks we find the long, windy rough dirt road that carries us to our hosts “house”. It’s difficult to convey what happened here without it sounding overly negative so I won’t try to sugar coat it. As we pull up an early 60’s sturdy looking woman comes out of her one level small house. Surrounding it in every direction are all manner of cages and pens. What these cages contain is difficult to ascertain but will soon enough make itself evident. We sit down for a cup of tea and began to chat with our host. She tells us a bit about her family, her deceased husband(s), and then shows us its newest member. She returns from her bedroom with a baby possum stuffed down her sweater! Apparently our host fancies herself an animal rescuer and so the cages are for the various animals she has acquired over the years. There are many different birds, lizards, guinea pigs, regular pigs, dear, turtles, heaps of cats and yes, possum’s. Although she only has one that sleeps in bed with her, there are several that are living in her cabinets and the cage in the backyard. For those who are unfamiliar with an opossum, they are indeed quite cute. (see pics) But also creepy. You may have at some point, poisoned, shot or run over one, but I doubt you have ever held one or had it crawl on your head and try to clean your ears for you. They also enjoy latching onto your pant legs and attempting to summit you like a possum Mt. Everest. But enough about the possums. To our first working experience. After the fairly mundane and boring first day of shoveling, digging and building a retaining wall, the second day we were greeted with the task of mustering the sheep to prepare them for shearing. Now most times, a farmer will do this with multiple people, some sort of non-foot conveyance (horse, 4-wheeler, etc...)but for our first mustering experience, we are fortunate enough to get to do it with only the two of us and on our feet. This is most likely because there are only nine of them. Simple right? Wrong. After 45 minutes of huffing and puffing up grassy mountain sides and sprinting to chase sheep in the desired direction, we succeed in chasing them to the appropriate pen. Only to discover that one of the gates has been left open and the sheep (as sheep will do), blast through it to the exact same spot they started in!
Well, in another 30 minutes we will able to chase all but two into the pen we had created for them. So our host instructed us that we could spend the rest of our days work “chasing” the other two. Seems easier to catch two then 9 but alas, this too proved harder then it would first appear. This could be because we were chasing them through neck high bush of pine tree like shrub packed so tightly that you can hardly see through it let alone chase sheep through it. But after three hours of no luck, we gave in. And as we did this, guess who showed up? The two sheep we had been hunting for! This time, our determination was at maximum. These sheep were going to be mustered. We chased them into the pen where there was no escape. Perfect! We’ve got them...nope. As I tried to get them to run to the pen we had created, one bolted through a fence. Oh well, he had decided to make himself a future dinner. But the other one, was mine. We squared off. I had enough and so had he. The ram and I, now only feet apart started each other in the eye. (Or I stared at it and it bahhed at me). As I tried to encourage it (with my foot) to turn around, it would not budge. It would head-butt my foot and then charge at me. Only for me to grab it by the wool, spin it around and the game would start again. After what seemed like 20 minutes of this, our host shouted down to me from the house “Just jump on it, and I’ll drive down and help”. So that’s what I did. I plopped myself on top of the sheep and together we hoisted the now playing dead Ram into the back of the truck. Phew!
After they were all mustered (including four mean, hairy, spitting Alpaca), we started in on shearing them. For the most part this was done by our host. But as tough as she was, a sixty year-old body can only take so much abuse and by the second Alpaca, she was losing steam. Being the strapping young man I am, I said “I’ll help out! I’ll grab the body and you take the head”. I didn’t have the body. As soon as I grabbed the Alpaca, it began to buck and kick with me attached. I tried to hold on until it threw me into a metal wall. So I let go...the first thing our host said after I picked myself up was “I thought you said you had the body?” Oh well....
So that was it. After three days, no running water, a broken toilet, no power and no ability to shower, we had enough. We set off to another spot. Sometimes you have to cut your losses. And though it was short, there were great aspects of it. Our host was very interesting, sweet and a true do-it-yourself person. But creature comforts (or lack thereof), outweighed the gains and so we had to move on. Something tells me that although we will have many interesting experiences in the future, none will quite compare with the first.she said:

I will begin this blog with a disclaimer: I am not a sheep herder, farmer, rancher, or really even a gardener, oh, did I say I am not a sheep herder! WWOOFing (Willing Workers of Organic Farming): Our plan and mode of traveling through NZ by volunteering at various farms, immersing ourselves in the country, with families of NZ and hopefully learning something along the way. Our first WWOOF was in the Coromandel Peninsula of the North Island. With little information and unknown expectations we drove up the rocky, curvy coastline of the Peninsula to a dirt road that took us high in the hills of our first “farm.” As we crept towards a house in shambles surrounded by cages and animals Jesse and I both exclaimed, “this can’t be it!” But to no avail it was, as a well-built, self assured woman answered the door and welcomed us to her home. Her home and our accommodations were rustic to say it nicely but the allure of the unknown or perhaps the shock of our surroundings tempted us to stay. “We are here for new experiences, right,” we reminded ourselves as we worked for the next few hours of building retaining walls, placing gates, shoveling dirt and clearing out her shed for preparation for shearing the sheep and alpacas the next day. When the work was over we were welcomed into her cozy house for a wholesome dinner of fresh veggies (picked from her garden), homemade hearty bread, and corn beef. As delightful as this dinner was, the real delight was really learning more about our host. She is a remarkable woman. A no-nonsense woman in her 60’s with a crackling laugh heard for miles, work hands of a man, and luster for life that is inspirational. She is a jack of all trades; a rancher, a farmer, an animal lover and rescuer, a gardener, an amazing cook, a knitter, a cheese maker, a bread maker, a contractor, a mother, a grandmother and a possum fanatic! For 20 some years this woman ran her ranch (now more of an animal rescue farm) with her own two hands building her home, garden, farm from the ground up. Choosing to live a completely self-sufficient, sustainable lifestyle; no electricity, everything solar-powered, no running hot water, all meat and produce cultivated from her land, and use of a generator only when absolutely necessary. A lifestyle that is admirable but one that I am not obviously accustomed to!
I tossed and turned in bed that night, uncomfortable, overwhelmed, and terrified of a possible possum sneak attack in the middle of the night!!! With little sleep, Jesse and I awoke with trepidation of what the day would hold and lets just say it is forever unforgettable! After our breakfast we were sent off to muster the 9 sheep for shearing. Nine sheep, Jesse and I thought, that shouldn’t be that bad, we can do it, as we crept up the grassy steep hill. We snuck up from behind the sheep and actually beautifully corralled all the sheep to the paddock below in less than 30 minutes. Celebrating and impressed with ourselves we proudly marched down the hill only to watch the sheep one by one escape through an open fence to the next paddock! Our host had forgot about the one open fence and the sheep disappeared. “Well, you have 3 hours left, go get them,” instructed our host as Jesse and I sulked off in despair. Pouting and with thoughts racing in my head, “How can we round up all nine sheep that fled in different directions, we are not sheep dogs, we do not have ATVs, we are just two people, running through thick bush and up steep hills chasing sheep,.... this is impossible.” And it was. Sheep run away from humans. But Jesse and I continued to chase and chase them, planning different approaches, tactics, until we finally mustered 7 sheep right into the shed for shearing. The other two were a bit more difficult! They stuck together in the bush for hours. We left them for a bit and went to help round up the alpacas for shearing. Alpacas are smarter then sheep and easier to convince to move with food but no nicer. They spit, kick, and whine. FUN! With our smooth moves, human gate formations and loud noises the alpacas were in the shed and we were sent off to get the last two sheep! This is were the fun began! Jesse and I once again got the sheep very close to the shed but with no fence to keep them there they escaped running right past me as I dove (or some would say I tripped!) to stop them. I went down, knees first, elbows, to hands to stomach. Scrapped from elbows to knees, shocked, sweaty, dirty, and my host exclaiming, “you have to stay on two feet to catch them,” I quit! But a determined Jesse went after them and almost had both before one squeezed its way through the fence and escaped. The other one Jesse cornered and the two of them went at it head to head, literally! The sheep had had enough and so had Jesse. Timidly kicking at first Jesse kept his distance but the sheep did not back down (they typically do except when angry) and this sheep was pissed! Butting his head at Jesse until our host yelled from the hill, “just sit on him,” and with grace Jesse jumped on his back and held the sheep down. MY HERO!!!:) Our work was done with 8 sheep and 4 alpacas in the shed ready for shearing. The guys arrived to shear and Jesse and I received our first experience of shearing. With a few more falls and wrangling of the alpacas and sheep, all exhausted, we were done for the day! We stayed for two more nights and decided it would be best to get back on the road where we could properly clean ourselves, sleep through the night, and not be targets for baby possums to scurry up our legs! Beside the need for a more comfortable accommodation and a hot shower with pressure, a part of me was sad to leave. Frances was a memorable woman that had so much to teach and give and I am thankful for the memories of our first WWOOF!

Auckland, the beginning

11.15.2009.

he said:

Ohhhhhhhhh....to be on the road at last! Auckland was challenging (to say the least). After touching down, we took a bus journey to a ferry which took us to a quaint little town called Devonport. Think moms with strollers, and business men with cappuccino's. We stayed with a very sweet couple named Gwenda and Peter at a bed and breakfast called Duck’s Crossing. We were able to use their home as our base to explore Auckland and FIND A VAN! My god...I had no idea what was in store for us.
I should say that Auckland (despite contrary reputation), is beautiful. To compare I would say it is a combination of San Francisco, Seattle and Portland. But with many more bays, sailboats and Maori. But it was interesting to explore. Unfortunately, we did not explore in a tourist capacity. The need to find a van and get out was intense. It felt hopeless and labored. I started to feel like we should just buy the next clunker we saw just so we could make some progress.
After four days of no success with Gwenda and Peter, we moved to our next spot. Our friend Debra and her two daughters were kind enough to let us invade their house for a few days. The first day at their house we went to a car market where we FOUND A VAN! Much to Summer’s chagrin, I convinced her to buy an overly small van...in fact, the smallest van we could find (see pics). We then spent the next three days outfitting and shopping for said van until we wanted to kill each other. We frequented this store THE WAREHOUSE which is the equivalent of Target at least two to three times per day. And when I say it’s like Target it is exactly the same. Except for the complete and utter lack of organization. Other than the categories like “sporting goods” or “automotive”, good luck.
But alas after four days of this business, we were outfitted. With foldable bed made in the back, tons of crap we probably don’t need, and near total exhaustion and frustration, we set out. We escaped Auckland (after initially heading 180 degrees the wrong way), and headed for the small beach community of Piha. This is an Oregon surf town if it wasn’t so dangerous and if the Cascades dove directly down into the ocean. The roads are a new definition of windy and we tested Gloria (our new van) by driving and hiking as much of the area as we could.
It amazes me how here more than anywhere I have ever been, I find myself saying: “This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen”...only to repeat the exact same sentiment fifteen minutes later. Each gargantuan curve our exaggerated grade brings not only more beautiful landscapes, but also totally different views. The first day was hours of hiking through a stream that we crossed at least twenty times through what was, with the exception of no bugs or excessive heat what I would imagine hiking through Brazil would be like. It was super cool...Dorky as this sounds, that’s the only way I can describe it. Nothing like I expected and everything I have been looking forward to.
Today we traveled across the the width of the north island (no more than 100km, to the east coast and an area called the Coromandel. We hiked through a gorge that was famous in New Zealand history for the gold mining that took place there in the late 1800’s. Over a billion ounces of gold were removed from this area and many of the remnants remain including a vast tunnel system. These are tunnels that would not operate in the states. It’s sad the way we are conditioned to think of the litigious aspects of something that it can sometimes supersede the experience. But this was not the case here. As earlier referred, I had to repeat how amazing everything was enough that it became pointless before we finished. I suppose that’s what I have taken so far. It’s not the hobit’ses that have made the journey so far, but instead the amazing geography and the trees. I guess the homogeneity or just the familiarity of the plant life in Oregon has built up my immunity for what it has to offer. But more than that is the total difference and lack of comparison I have for the trees here. Kauri and ferns, they’re all so green and bright! I’m so excited for each new thing we see.
Which leads to tomorrow. We are deep in the Coromandel’s west side now, and will head further north to a large ranch with hundreds of sheep and cow for our first Woofing experience. I have great trepidation as we do this. We have no real idea of where we are going or what we will be doing when we get there. But I do have a great deal of faith for I know what I will have learned buy the end of tomorrow will far outweigh what I know about farming today...

she said:

As our plane touched down in Auckland excitement consumed me as I awoke from the deep slumber of island life to a world I know. The city. The noise, the sounds, the stimuli. I felt content to be frantically finding our way in a new city again. With our atrocious huge bags Jesse and I found our way through Auckland to the ferry that took us across the bay to the North Shore and the quaint village of Devonport, our home for the next four days. Our home was the lovely B&B of Peter and Gwenda. Little did we realize that their gentle encouragement, sound advice, and comforts of home would quickly become our reprieve from the desperate and aggravating searches for a campervan. Every morning Jesse and I would awake to a hearty and delightful breakfast and then set off into the city in search of a campervan. We soon discovered that we were entering the high-season for traveling New Zealand and our “original” idea of driving through NZ with a campervan was well, unoriginal. Old clunkers and beat up vans were abundant and sold in masses by shady characters. We walked through these parking lots in haste as our hearts sank. The search had to continue and our overly ambitious quest of getting out of Auckland in a few days was squandered. With thoughts and hopes of “everything happens for a reason,” we met Deborah and the rumors of the generosity and friendliness of the Kiwis came into fruition. We stayed with Deborah and her family for 4 nights and again their warmth and home became our reprieve from the frustrating, painful days in search for a van, getting lost in the suburbs, and then finally outfitting our van at the inescapable infinity of the Warehouse. In less then a weeks time we were finally ready to embark on our journey. With graciousness in our hearts and our sprits high we were “on the road.” The road headed west, curvy and stomach turning to the low-key surf community of Piha. Piha gave us our first experience of staying in a camp ground, setting up our van, sleeping in the van and the realization that this was all part of what I going to be doing the next year! With a momentary freak out, slight emotional breakdown and surprisingly good night sleep in the van I woke to a readiness and willingness to accept what this year was going to bring. (Kind of!) The next four days flew by as we finally ventured out into nature and the splendor of New Zealand. The scenic contrasts of the dense sub-tropical vegetation to the rolling vibrant green hills spotted with sheep and cows to the black sand beaches are breathtaking and we were only 45 minutes outside Auckland! Our “tramps” in those four days were equally breathtaking and unique; from the black sands and jagged shoreline cliffs of Whatipu Beach, to the “lite canyoneering” trek of Goldie Bush, criss-crossing for hours in ankle deep streams to the Karangahake Gorge where we found ourselves hiking through cliffs full of tunnels created in the late 1800’s for gold mining. Everyday we have found ourselves in awe of the beauty and the diversity of this country.
As quickly as the weather changes in NZ so has my emotions. Extreme highs to extreme lows. I am realizing that the struggles and challenges that lay ahead of me are what I make of them and should make for an interesting year!! Off for our first WOOFing adventure tomorrow on a remote farm in the Coromandel.....wish me luck!!

Live from Fiji...

11/6/2009

He said:
Greetings from Auckland! As I write this we have successfully made the trip from Fiji to Auckland. Having had a few days distance, I can more effectively reflect and relate the details of our adventures. First and foremost, I should tell that Fiji is EXPENSIVE! When we initially booked our flight, we decided on Fiji on a whim. Most of the flights that we found went through Fiji anyway, so we decided to make a pit-stop. A 15 day pit-stop. Little did we know (or research), that Fiji is no cheap date. In fact, very basic accommodation was about $80.00 U.S. Our initial plan was to stay at medium range places and explore the country...uh good luck with that. There is no such thing as medium in Fiji. Your choices are backpacker (20 bed-dorms), or uber-resorts. So our initial spot was a beautiful island resort in the Mamanuca Island chain. It was one of two places on the island. Usual hotel amenities (pool, bar, activities), but with a hefty price tag for food. The interesting thing that we noticed was the service. There is a palpable English training to the accommodation and it feels a bit awkward to be a “rich” tourist once again exploiting a third-world country. However, the physical setting of the island was stunning. The sky is painfully blue, the weather was perfect and we went snorkeling several times which was great. On one trip, I was lucky enough to see a sea snake. I was cruising alonge foot snake! Trying to be casual, I tried to swim away...checking back where the snake was, I noticed... ”hmmmm that’s weird, it looks like it’s swimming my way!” Yup...following me. I kicked on the afterburner, swallowed about a gallon of sea water and nearly drown but escaped without conflict.
After the islands, we went back to the mainland of Vitu Levu and rented a car. We travelled first south to the capital of Suva. SUCKED! As a result of the difficult economy/big city/ whatever else, the city is full of con artist. The scheme goes like this: They approach you with apparently friendly intentions, try to force feed you some “help” (i.e. directions, information, etc...) then they pull a souvenir our of their backpack and try to carve your name in it before you can refuse it so they can force you to purchase it. Aside from that, it felt like another big city. We were in and out in 45 minutes and off to the north of the mainland.
The north was full of beautiful mountain ranges, sugar cane fields and incredibly friendly people. This was by far my favorite part of the trip. It was very interesting to see the combination of peoples who have found themselves in this country. There is a trio of Pacific Islanders, Indians, and recent emigrants. The indians and the Fijians were both brought as slaves. It was unexpected to see such a large Indian culture alive and well in Fiji. Many of these Indians were from the untouchable sect of the Indian Caste system, and have since tried to return to their mother country. But as we heard, they were treated so poorly, they have since returned to Fiji.
After the north, we went to another island chain for our final four days. The Yasawas are very mountainous and rugged but also very beautiful. We stayed at a mixed backpacker/resort which was all-inclusive style as they do in Mexico. The result was a forced summer camp for adults. It was a bit weird with little to do as it was raining so we found ourselves counting the seconds until the next meal was served. We met some nice folks though and had a good time getting to know a bunch of Aussies and Canadiens.
Overall, Fiji was a bit outside of what we expected. I am glad we saw it, but I’m not sure I would return. I did want to mention as a side note, that Summer was shocked by how attractive the guys in Fiji were. All super active and athletic, it was funny to catch her peeping as we drove past the Rugby fields. In most countries, the shoe is on the other foot. It’s always weird the things that you find when you travel! Can’t wait to get on to New Zealand. Will write more soon and let you know how things are.

She said:

Life in Fiji-
Our “holiday” officially began in Fiji with the warm sun, the islands, the blue-green ocean, the white beaches, the “Fiji time” lifestyle; clearly a dream vacation for most but a shock to the system for Jesse and I. Shear panic engulfed me as our boat pulled up to our first island, Tokoriki, the northern most island in the Mamanuca Island chain. Even though it was the most beautiful setting I have ever seen, I was terrified of the idea of being isolated on the one island. “Really, there is nothing else here?” I questioned, ‘what are we going to do with ourselves for 6 nights?” “Relax!” I reminded myself. Relaxing, however did not come easy and before I knew it Jesse and I were attempting to hike around the entire island! Our frenetic energy was slow to dissipate but when it did we seemed to fall into the deep slumber of island life; reading, sleeping, laying in the sun, the occasional swim in the pool/ocean. Yes, I timidly re-entered the ocean. Snorkeling in the deep, clear waters in awe of the amazing coral and plentiful fish.... and no sting rays!!! Okay, I didn’t last that long in the ocean but at least I went in a few times! The 6 nights on Tokoriki island ended up flying by and before I knew it the boat was returning us to the main island, Viti Levu. Jesse and I ended up renting a car and headed to the southern coast of Viti Levu, “the Coral Coast.” How great it felt to be on the road and free to do whatever we pleased. However, on the main island we were quickly reminded that Fiji is a third world country, a very poor country. Our drive took us through village after village of poverty but not slums of despair. Rather the opposite, a vibrant sense of community, family and sincere happiness. This is something I have always found true in third world countries and it makes you wonder the true meaning of a meaningful life. We made our way from Nadi to Suva (the capital) and had a very short visit. We were quickly targeted as the tourists and hustled left and right. The air was humid and heavy, the dirtiness of the city apparent and being confronted around every corner we left after about 45 minutes. Disclaimer: this was a rarity for us. Besides Suva our experiences with the Fijians were either indifferent or amazingly friendly, acknowledging us a Bula (hello) everywhere we went.
We then made our way up north, to the “Sun Coast” and stayed in RakiRaki. The north is drastically different then the south and is beautiful with its large farms of sugar cane, mountain ranges and incredible views of the ocean. As the land changed so did the people. There is more of a presence of the Indo-Fijians in the north. When arriving in Fiji I was shocked to find that Indians make up about 40% of the population. These Indo-Fijians were more apparent in the cities (the entrepreneurs) or the Hindi Indians that worked the fields. We stayed in the north for two nights and then headed back out to the islands, this time to the Yasawa Island chain and to Waya Island. Our last four nights were spent at the Octopus resort or rather “the summer camp for adults” we ended up naming it. With the rain, scheduled meals and activities I wanted to hide in our bure and never come out. Being accidently upgraded to the honeymoon bure didn’t help in making me want to come out either! Although this place was not a place that I would normally seek out, it did have some memorable moments. I had my first Kava experience with the welcoming ceremony. Kava is a root that is made into liquid tasting like muddy water. It is a drink drunk by Fijians (rather then alcohol) and used in Fijian ceremonies. It is customary to drink the bowl full of Kava in one gulp, return the bowl to the Chief and then clap three times. Its immediate effects are a numbing of your lips and mouth. It is a narcotic that causes numbing throughout the body with large consumptions. We also met some great people with this stay, Canadians, Aussies, more Aussies and more Canadians!
Reflecting back on our Fiji trip I want to say it was wonderful and I am happy that I experienced as much of Fiji as we did. There are many issues that left a distaste in my mouth; socially, politically, the white mans’ wealth and exploitation of the Fijian culture has me questioning our right to monopolize with our tourism. We suck...?

Hey everyone! We have arrived in Auckland and will be posting our Fiji blogs soon. But we have finally worked out sharing the slideshows of our photos. So for you non-computer savvy relatives, here's what to do. Copy and paste this link into your web browser (that's the www. part up above) http://www.flickr.com/photos/vanderhj/sets/72157622731103680/show/ this should show you all our Fiji pictures. Please feel free to comment so we know who's checkin' up on us! Miss you all.