15 - potatos, potatos..

" ..You start tomorrow!" was the end of a 3-line response to my job application on a sweet potato farm near Bundaberg.

When asked if next Monday would be okay as well, the answer was in typical Australian fashion: "Yea, Nah, Nah, ..Yea.."

(The last Nah or Yea always seems to be important..)

Well great, at this point I am only separated by several hundred kilometers from my new home, apart from a stop in Bundaberg to buy food for the whole week.

So quickly throw everything back into the Pajero, by now everything has its fixed place and accordingly faster and "Ab dafuer!"

The following section of the route was not really one of the visual highlights of the journey, but wat´muss, das muss.

I approached Bundaberg at top speed (about 90-110 km/h) to quickly do my weekly shopping and then head to the farm where I would also be staying.

The exact location was called Bullyard, and the name was also really fitting.

(Just with goats instead of cows,.. so not really.)

3 roommates were waiting for me on the farm, but it would quickly become apparent over the next few months that learning names on this farm was almost always unnecessary. Such a turnover of staff was completely new to me!

A day of work (and thus my daily routine for about 3 months) was;

-Getting up at 3:45am

-Coffee in the car pool towards the field

-Harvesting for 3 hours

-"smoko" (the Australians' sacred smoking break)

-Continuing to harvest until the daily quota of bins was reached.

On the "Digger", after each row, the positions were swapped once, so that ripping up the underbrush, cleaning off the dirt, and juggling on the conveyor belt were not quite so monotonous and exhausting.

The daily goal was usually 50 bins, which could be reached in just 4 hours, but with a poor harvest or many damaged potatoes it could take up to 10 hours. Generally, we worked for 7-8 hours, 6 days a week.

Being in the front position on the Digger meant bending over strongly to grab the tangle of potatoes and then quickly remove them, so that only potatoes and dirt would land on the first conveyor belt.

That also explains the next position, namely separating dirt/mud from the potatoes, so that positions 3 and 4 only have to blindly grab the harvest and place it on the next conveyor belt, which runs in the opposite direction.

It may sound monotonous, but it is.

The most important thing was actually always having an ear for our supervisor, not only because Scott was an incredibly funny guy, but also because we constantly played a kind of game with him.

Every wild day again, you never really knew if and when, he would just shout loudly: "Snake!" and the goal of the game was to quickly leave the Digger, let the potatoes and snake pass the first conveyor belt, and then start working again.

What fun!

What was slightly annoying with constant splattering dirt and dripping sweat were actually long hair, but the problem could easily be solved with an electric razor and "Hair4Hearts".

Now just a few days taking good care of the white top, otherwise sunburn and heat stroke are guaranteed.

If there were no potatoes needed for a day, we simply drove a few fields further in the morning and ripped ginger out of the ground in high gear.

Although it wasn't paid per hour like the potatoes, it was usually more financially rewarding.

My birthday also fell during the described harvest season and to celebrate the day, we headed to the beach with the whole crew, BBQ, collecting seashells, building sandcastles and all those beautiful things were on the program.

But on the country road, in the middle of nowhere, suddenly the road trip music was gone, huh.. oh, the engine is off. It won't start again. Great.

"Happy Birthday to me.."

(Could have happened to anyone..)

As it turned out later, that was the last ride in the Pajero.

Fortunately, I had been in one place long enough to sell the wreck and accumulated equipment to someone else.

After about 3 months of monotonous farm life, we decided that a reward for the hard work was in order and went on a day trip to go whale-watching against the magical backdrop of Fraser Island.

What can I say, it was pretty breathtaking, we were incredibly lucky and were able to observe a small family of humpback whales "dancing", it almost seemed like they enjoyed it as much as we did, they sought so much contact with the water surface and the boat.

What a beautiful ending, because the harvest season is now over for me too.

I managed to smash my hand pretty badly.

But at the hospital they said nothing was broken, but rest was urgently needed.

A change of scenery is also fitting.

Next stop south, this time by train, is Brisbane!