The never-ending walnut harvest

Swansea is a small town on the east coast of Tasmania. It is located in the northwest of the Great Oyster Bay, across from the Freycinet National Park. Swansea was the first urban settlement to be established after the founding of Sydney and Hobart. In this small coastal town, Webster, a walnut company, has expanded over 80 hectares. By the way, the company's headquarters are located in Leeton, New South Wales.

This year, Flo and I helped again with the walnut harvest. Since Australia relies heavily on the power of machines, only a few people are needed to correct machine defaults. There are about 20 different walnut varieties spread over 80 hectares. The trees are lined up in rows and look quite withered. To harvest the precious fruit, the shakers first drive through the rows. The shakers are vehicles with a long arm on the side that can grab and shake the trees, they drive a maximum of 20 km/h. After each tree has been vigorously shaken, the sweepers drive through the rows. The sweepers have a large blower on the right rear of the vehicle, with which they blow the walnuts under the trees into the middle of the row. The sweeper drivers have to drive up and down each row at least twice to create a straight line of walnuts between every second row of trees. Now every line of walnuts must be walked down by the rakers, backpackers armed with rakes. They rake walnuts that the sweepers couldn't reach into the line and remove large sticks and stones. Next, the walnuts are sucked up by the harvesters. The harvesters look a bit like street sweepers, with a cabin on one side of the machine where the driver sits. He can turn his seat with the steering wheel, allowing him to drive the vehicle in both directions. In the middle underneath are rotating brushes that sweep all the nuts into the middle and then suck them up and transport them into the designated trailer. When the harvesters are full, the nuts are dumped from the trailer into the so-called jackrabbit, a machine that looks like a large shovel. In the jackrabbit, the walnuts are then transported to the next field container. The field containers are old ship containers that have been on the walnut farm for many years. The shovel of the jackrabbits now pours the walnuts into another trailer that drops the walnuts into the field container from the top via an arm with a conveyor belt. Now the nuts are finally in the container and can be taken to the on-site hulling line by truck. At the hulling line, the first steps of further processing of the nuts begin. With a huge forklift, the field containers, which weigh up to 20 tons, are placed on the tipper and secured. The tipper lifts the field container from behind and empties the walnuts at the front into the hopper. The hopper is a collecting container that uses a conveyor belt to bring the nuts into the actual hulling line. The speed of this first conveyor belt can now influence the amount of walnuts in the complete further processing process. From the hopper, the walnuts now fall through a rotating metal net, the stick chain. The task of the stick chain is to let the walnuts pass through but keep the large sticks and stones on the net, which, because it rotates, are transported to another conveyor belt and transported to the waste belt. There is a person at the stick chain who is supposed to make sure that all nuts fall through the metal net. Sometimes longer sticks get caught in the net, so it automatically stops. The sticks have to be removed and with a powerful effort, the net is taken in both hands, pulled, and ensured that all stuck pieces of wood have been removed. The stick chain is set in motion by pressing a button. Our walnuts are brought to the second level of the hall via an elevator after the stick chain. They now fall into the rock tank, which is filled with water. The walnuts float at the top of the rock tank, but the stones fall to the bottom, from where they are transported back to the waste belt via various conveyor belts. The nuts and smaller sticks are brought to the inspection table via another conveyor belt. The inspection table is a approximately three meters long and 1.5 meters wide conveyor belt. There is another person standing here who selects the small sticks between the nuts and throws them into a niche between the table and the railing. They fall down onto another conveyor belt, which leads to the waste belt again. At the waste belt, as the name suggests, all the waste, such as stones, sticks, dirt, and animal skeletons, runs into the waste truck. Usually, this truck is full every two to three hours and has to be emptied by the forklift driver. To my knowledge, all the dirt is just dumped somewhere on the property. Another person stands at the waste belt and collects the nuts that have landed here by mistake. Next, the nuts are transported through the huller, a machine that can be opened like a sandwich toaster. Metal brushes are attached on the top and bottom to remove the green shell of the nuts, if it has not yet fallen off. Then they are cleaned with chlorine water and dried. The dried nuts are passed over the vibrating table, which serves to collect the empty, i.e. rotten nuts (they bounce higher than the good ones), and transported to the swift lift. The swift lift is the last conveyor belt in the hulling line, an arm that can be moved up and down, in and out. It is used to transport the nuts into the so-called fan container. The fan containers are also ship containers and have the same size as the field containers. However, they differ in a few important aspects. They are clean and newer containers (cleaned by Leila with a lot of enthusiasm and joy). Then the fan containers have a closed roof with three round ventilation holes. Furthermore, a floor has been installed using Euro pallets, and a fan has been installed at the front. So, through the doors, the clean nuts with as few sticks as possible now fall into the fan container. When the fan container has reached 13 tons, it is full (approximately ten tons of walnuts) - it usually takes about two hours to fill a fan container. Now the container is taken down from the scale by the forklift and moved out of the way. The fan container is given a sticker with information about the quantity and variety. The doors are almost closed, leaving a gap for the fan to be plugged in. At least once a day or at night, the shipping containers are picked up by trucks and transported by waterway to New South Wales to be properly dried and nicely packaged there. So, that's the normal process of a walnut harvest in Swansea - lots of machines, lots of noise, and lots of stress to ensure everything runs smoothly.

On the farm, there is a house that serves as an office. In the house, there are two rooms with some bunk beds, providing enough space for all backpackers. But we are also allowed to camp directly in front of the house between the walnut trees. This year, we are a colorful group of backpackers. There is a couple from Uruguay, five French people, a woman from Peru, a man from Hungary, and three Germans, including Leila and me. Most of us work as rakers, and the rest work at the hulling line. Flo is the only one among us backpackers who is allowed to drive a machine, a sweeper. We work long hours outside in the field during the day. It is not uncommon for us to work nine to twelve hours a day. The hulling line operates 24 hours a day and is staffed with two shifts, one during the day and one at night, each twelve hours. I work the night shift again. At first, everything is still pretty normal. There are five of us at night, a coordinator, two at the inspection table, one at the waste belt, and one forklift driver.
Due to heavy rain that causes many floods, we are forced to take a break for five days. The mood among the backpackers is slowly shifting. After all, we are not here to go on vacation, and to make matters worse, Covid-19 is slowly creeping in. Our manager, a small man with a lot of energy who always wants everything to go smoothly, seems to enjoy enforcing all the corona guidelines. One morning, he gathers all of us together to explain the new rules. He wants us to no longer leave the farm unless we need to buy groceries at the small store in Swansea. Usually, we would take the long trip to Launceston to do the shopping for the next two weeks, as it is actually cheaper to drive the 300 km instead of stocking up on groceries in the small, expensive store. Then he talks at length about hygiene, how, when, and how often to wash our hands properly. We have to keep 1.5 meters apart - even in our small kitchen, which we have to share between eight of us. Next, we are supposed to pick our own dishes and, of course, only use those, which does not apply to pots and baking sheets... Work can slowly resume. New rules are introduced at the hulling line, mainly concerning social distancing. Only one person is allowed to work at the inspection table, and the rock tank, for example, can only be cleaned by one person. For our breaks, two 15-minute breaks and one half-hour break, the entire hulling line is shut down, and we are no longer allowed to switch positions during a shift. It feels like more and more is being demanded of us, and our well-being is given little consideration. A few days later, after we have just come to terms with it, the more stringent rules are explained to us in the next long conversation. From now on, we must maintain a distance of 1.5 meters outside and four meters inside. Before starting work, our temperature is taken daily, and anyone with a temperature above 37°C is not allowed to work. And finally, we are told that we have to carry the sofas out of the "living room" and replace them with camping chairs. This is how our manager wants to make sure that we also maintain the four-meter distance. The mood on-site is getting worse and worse. There is a lot of talking, and unfriendly things are being said. Now, in hindsight, I can understand the situation much better, and it is not so difficult for me to deal with it anymore, but at that moment I was very angry and disappointed. After all, I have been working twelve hours every night, and now I can't even relax on the couch?! We all felt personally attacked, but of course, I also know that our manager has responsibility for us, and he works for a big company. If Corona were to break out here, they would probably suffer millions in losses. Nevertheless, we continue to work diligently, and I try to focus on other things. As the next low point, there is a misunderstanding about a broken lamp. One of the backpackers broke the light in the room and now wants to replace it with a new lightbulb and holder. So, he turns off the power to the house and starts replacing the lightbulb, but when the manager finds out, he is furious and tells us to keep our hands off the electricity. So, we sit in the evening, without light, on our camping chairs around the fire and vent our frustrations. At the same time, our manager is still working at the hulling line because there is still something to be repaired. Later in the evening, he comes into the house and sees us all sitting close together. I can see that he is tired and resigned. He calmly informs us that we all have to leave the farm the next day and find accommodation elsewhere. We are angry and lost at first, where can we find accommodation so quickly in these times of Corona? The next day, everything feels completely different. We can move into the backpacker hostel in Swansea, which is only ten kilometers away from the farm. After venting all my frustration, I feel much better. I accept being kicked out and can slowly see the advantages. Flo and I move from a tent to a private room, there are enough sofas for everyone and a TV. Since there are only three other women in the hostel with us, it is always quiet, and I finally manage to sleep for more than four hours during the day. After a few days, we are all satisfied with the change of scenery. After all the trouble, I focus on my work again. The same questions before each shift: How are you? No cough, sore throat, sneezing, or runny nose? Not tired? Then the temperature is taken, and then we are allowed to go to the hulling line. For twelve hours, I stand at the inspection table or at the waste belt - I alternate shifts with Hugo (the French guy). The highlights are always the ten to fifteen minutes during which we change field or fan containers. Twelve hours with myself. Twelve hours in my head with my thoughts. The same songs, even the same verses, play over and over again, and sometimes I can't get rid of them. "Ohhh Panama" (AnnenMayKantereit - Jenny Jenny). They keep tearing through my thoughts, again and again, and sometimes I can't get rid of them. After two years, she was there for ten minutes. Oh Oh Oh Panama!" Hours later, the spider suddenly stands in front of me again! She must have been hiding from me for half the night, probably observing me closely! She smiles mischievously at me, and outside the sun slowly rises. After a few hours of sleep, a quick meal, and then it's back to the farm. "How are you? No cough, sore throat, sneezing, or runny nose? You're not tired?"

Most of the time, I choose a topic to think about specifically. For hours. It starts with "what could I cook?" and usually turns into dreams: "How do I want to live one day?