Wwoofing can be fun, watching kite surfing at a beach near Cook Town.

Wwoofing and Feeling 14 in Australia

When I was growing up I lived in a small town in the heart of the North Yorkshire country side. It was a beautiful life, playing in fields and walking freely. I had a job all through high school and collage and lived as close to a free life as a school girl probably could. Having my own money meant I could buy anything I wanted (within reason) without really having to ask for permission from my parents. And when I passed my driving test and bought my 1st car, I was away! There was no stopping me. Given this you can imagine the feelings of constriction that wwoofing brought.

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One of Little Devil Backpackers mini buses, used to take people to and from their farms.

Little Devil Backpackers Review, Tasmania

After a few days at The Pickled Frog in Hobart I managed to bag myself a job in Cygnet on a strawberry farm. A quick conversation on the phone to the farmer and I found myself googling Little Devil Backpackers, like he had advised. I gave them a quick call to check there was space and then hopped on the bus from the corner of Elizabeth and Brisbane Street to Huonville. The ticket cost me a little over 10 bucks and the driver said he would give me a shout when I needed to get off.

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The Pickled Frog, Hostel Review, Hobart

Standing close to the top of the hill on Liverpool Street is a large green building, impossible to walk passed without giving it a second glance. This is The Pickled Frog Hostel. Walk in through the main entrance and you will be greeted by a cosy reception room with communal computers, comfy sofas, a small bar, the reception desk and, in winter, a roaring open fire. This is where I found myself after 10 days wwoofing on a dairy farm in Wodonga, torn between wanting to spend some time not working and needing to find a job before winter crept in.

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