SOMETIMES a casual conversation can open up a whole new world. So it was over a drink a week ago. “Well you know our friend Patrick, he’s hoping to woof to New Zealand via Cyprus.” “Beg pardon?” ” You know, woof” Well actually, I don’t. “Is it something to do with dogs?” General mockery. “No, a willing worker on an organic farm.” “Right,” give knowledgeable nod, and at first chance head for the internet.
It’s true, there is another universe of opportunity. Forget about gap years where you have to raise 3,000 quid to be a volunteer. Here is a way to see the world and sell your labour. The ultimate “exchange is no robbery” scheme. As long as you are willing to turn your hand to almost anything, and subscribe to the values of eco-friendly, organic farming you could spend the rest of your lifetime travelling and working. The only cost, your fares and possibly your back. There could be a lot of digging.
WWOOF organisation was founded in England in 1971 by Sue Coppard, who, keen to escape the grind of the city, put an ad in Time Out offering to help on a farm in return for her board. It took off and now operates in 43 different countries. Just a brief skim through the country files gave me a taste of the temptation it offers. Of course, in my case, it is probably total escapist fantasy but I couldn’t help but be seduced by the thought of working on an eco-lodge in Costa Rica, or helping Jurgen with his spiritual teepees in New Zealand or, perhaps, the most intriguing of all, collecting wild plants in Iceland to make teas.
Reading some of the wwoofers’ blogs gives an insight into the highs and lows; it’s not all camaraderie and coming together. As one person writes, “weeding tatties on your own for seven hours a day can be a very lonely experience”.
They went on to say: “It can help you discover yourself”. Terrifying, I’m the last person I want to discover. Choosing where you go, who you go with and what you do seems to be crucial. But the organisation’s website gives clear practical advice. It seems to me, in this material world of ours, that the chance to do something constructive with often edible end results doesn’t come along that often.
I was touched by a posting on their website that read “Two weeks ago our area experienced the most extraordinary freezing rain. No-one had ever experienced it before. The result was the trees were covered in heavy ice and icicles 6 inches long, branches and whole trees have broken, cracked and been uprooted. At the time it was like gunshots all around. Being in southern France the trees were not prepared for this and the damage is enormous and tragic. We need help clearing the forests of our 100 hectare nature reserve, pruning the trees where it’s possible to save them, making ground space for new growth, clearing the trails and clearing and repairing the fencing for the donkeys. The work is endless, please come.”
Now there are those cynics who might say this is just a cheap labour scheme, but I don’t think so. Inviting strangers to come and share your home and hearth, as the hosts do, is a real act of trust. You are, after all, going to be living in very close contact, giving them access to your children, your relationships and your lifestyle. It’s an intimate experience, wwoofers will eat with you, watch TV with you and in many ways depend on you. Learning to share and live communally seems to be as much part of the experience as the farming.
One Spanish host writes, “We have had a GP, two social workers and a Polish political reporter stay with us and they were a challenging delight! Hosting is a powerful thing; try not to get overstressed or expect too much…. I’m learning to be a friend and work facilitator at the same time “
It is as testing for those who open their homes as for those who stay, sometimes wwoofers will be given caravans, their own huts or even teepees but more often they will treated as another member of the family and families argue. Quite a contrast to the “retreat” style offers which appeal to the middle classes, ironically offering a simple alternative life at extortionate cost.
I like the idea that you need nothing more than a willing pair of hands and an open mind. There is something romantic about this itinerant lifestyle, that rewards hard work with new friendships and the satisfaction of good husbandry. Maybe I’m being naive I am sure there will be cases of exploitation, hosts who demand too much, wwoofers who like lie-ins and a laid-back life style, but the pros seem to outweigh the cons. One of my favourite Irish poets, Paul Muldoon, has a poem that starts with the lines, “Why Brownlee left, and where he went, is a mystery even now.” I’d like to
think he went wwoofing, and one day I may too.
