Wwoofing isn't always perfect

Ben weeding
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The stories in this blog entry are true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Remember the good old days of Wwoofing? Where you spent your entire day toiling for someone else's profit, and during breaks and meals got to listen to stories of a broken marriage? Where you worked on an enormous orchard and were never once allowed to eat an apple? Where you slept in your own tent because the accommodation provided was so bug invested that you couldn't bear to be inside, even though it was getting quite cold outside? Well this wwoof host does!

Jenny beaning
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This Wwoofing experience started with shoveling cow shit. Ben claims it didn't smell that bad, but it should have been a dead giveaway. But we were still hopeful, and so stuck around for a few days. It was, in one word... awkward. On the plus side, he made a mean buckwheat pancake- insisting on grinding the wheat fresh every morning.  He also knew a LOT about running an organic farm. If only we could have stayed awake or focused through any of his lectures, maybe we could have learned something from him. Unfortunately he was dreadfully boring and terribly pessimistic. He kept repeating to us how wwoofers these days are no good (he'd been a member for the past 30 years, so was presumably apt to judge) and it got hard not to take it a bit personal.

Jenny weeding
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We escaped for a half day trip to venture a hike to Harwood's Hole, which required a good long drive up a twisty - and of course unpaved - road. It was nice, and we decided we liked hiking around more than we liked our host so we broke it off with the wwoofing after only 3 days. From here the trip gets a lot more pleasant.

We drove all the way to the NW of the island where we enjoyed enormously windy Wharariki Beach (think sandstorm but less camels) and saw Farewell Spit and Pupu Springs (hehe... I said pu pu). The highlight was Abel Tasman Park, where we ventured a 7-hour hike, enjoyed absolutely beautiful views, reminisced about a school trip some 10 years ago (Ben more than Jenny), and met a woman who teaches at a Quaker school in the UK. We hiked, we drove, we ate pies, we drank cask wine till we fell asleep (often before 8:00 pm), and we got a first feel for the South Island. Most importantly, we confirmed our initial suspicion that we should not - under any circumstances - wwoof with single men.