Farming in Australia

A few years ago now, I decided that I was tired of waiting. I wanted to go to Australia, a place I had been dreaming of since I was a kid and used to watch Steve Irwin's Crocodile Hunter show religiously. I constantly used to fantasize about sneaking aboard a boat and making my way through the Outback to find him amongst the animals, where I would ask him to make me his apprentice and teach me everything he knew about the natural world.

With very little money in the bank, I had to do some research to make this happen. I found a group called WWOOF, the Worldwide Organization of Organic Farmers. As a member, you have access to farmers all across the world, or Australia, since that's the country I chose, and in exchange for food and a place to stay, you work on their organic farm with them. All you need to do is pay for the transportation. So I asked my parents for a plane ticket as a combined birthday and Christmas present, and, amazingly, they said yes!

My first stop was a place called Byron Bay, with a farmer and sculptor named John. My task here was to help him in restoring endangered indigenous plants of the rain forest. This was a dream. Byron Bay is this beautiful beach town with a bunch of cute shops for tourists and all of these really cool places right outside the city. At one point we traveled up a mountain to visit this village that's completely self-sustaining! The people there grow all their own food, build all their own houses with the natural landscape incorporated, and have an incredibly tight-knit community. I was blown away by the beauty and envied the children running around barefoot along the rocks. I can only imagine growing up in such a beautiful place.

The most incredible place that John took me to is one that I highly recommend everyone put on their itineraries. It's called Protestors' Falls, and it is the last remaining section of the original rain forest in that area because of a group of protestors who refused to allow it to be cut down. I was speechless the entire time we were hiking there. I knew from pictures that trees could be huge, but being next to them, getting to touch them and feel the power rushing through them, connecting the entire forest... it was something beyond my ability to write. John taught me about how trees are sentient in a way that makes the forest a community. When a tree is sick or dying, the others will sense this and send nutrients to their ailing friend to keep them alive and help them recover. And I could feel all this happening, even through my boots. It zinged all throughout the air I was breathing, bounced from the rocks, splashed in the river that flowed so crisp and cool. I've never tasted air so sweet and clean in my lungs. I walked away very reluctantly, but feeling better in body and mind than I had in years.

The rain forest at Protestors' Falls will forever live with me in my mind. I could have stayed there forever, just with a little shelter made under some of the roots. Maybe if I had, I would have eventually grown into the soil too, and become one with the most magical place I've ever had the privilege of seeing.

After stopping at a beautiful hobby farm called Wilgavale, where I learned to care for pigs, cattle, and small fields of vegetables, I found myself on an 18,000 acre cattle ranch right on the edge of the Outback. This was where I had been aiming for. This was the place I had always wanted to see. Where in my daydreams as a kid I would wander until I found Steve Irwin and start the life amongst animals that I'd always so deeply desired.

I won't lie, it wasn't what I expected it to be. Mostly flat grassland in the midst of a severe drought doesn't make for great foliage. But I still highly recommend adding it to your itinerary. It's definitely on mine, for when I manage to make it back there. I want to get a car or other kind of vehicle to use, because walking won't get you that far, but it did get me incredibly lost. When I finally made my way back to the ranch house, my phone told me I had walked 17 miles, most of which I covered after the sun had set on a nearly moonless night in the middle of winter.

Though I was furious with myself for getting lost in a place where I had no cell service or any knowledge of the constellations, while the temperature was dropping to just above freezing and there was no light except for my phone tucked into my shirt to hide it from the cold, it was actually pretty fun. The cows would walk behind me in a large herd if I was singing, and I learned that some prefer older rock, some soft indie, and one even had a love for "Amazing Grace," which was pretty damn cool to learn. The land itself felt as though it was listening to me, whether I was singing or yelling (which the cows didn't appreciate as much), and I found myself talking to it. There's something enchanting about that dirt, despite how dried and dead it looked while I was there. But it was far from dead. Trees still flung their leaves skyward, grass still found its way through the cracks to feed the cows and birds. And it was conscious of me being there. I hope that one day I'm able to go back and explore more of it, say hello to it again to maybe understand why I am so drawn there.