The World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms scheme is a chance to escape the stresses of urban life ? and get your hands dirty, as Rebecca Smithers discovers
Three years ago Lorna Singleton ? then 25 ? was working in a Manchester office as an insurance company claims clerk when she decided there had to be more to life: "I'm a country bumpkin at heart, and some of my friends had been travelling around Scotland working on farms as part of a volunteering scheme," she explains. She decided to do the same and caught the bug, eventually giving up her job.
As a volunteer helping Edward Acland, who runs a 15-acre smallholding just outside Kendal in Cumbria, she learned the specialist craft of coppicing ? the traditional method of woodland management ? and green woodworking, without using oil or diesel-powered chainsaws and other such tools. Those skills won her a sought-after place on a three-year apprenticeship through the Bill Hogarth Memorial Apprenticeship Trust.
"I can't believe how lucky I've been," says Singleton, one of the thousands of people who now regularly volunteer in this way ? through a globally recognised scheme called World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms, or Wwoof. "I found someone able to teach me what I really wanted to learn. It's one thing to read about coppicing but another to get someone to show you first-hand how to do it."
The wwoofing movement sprang from very humble origins 40 years ago. As a child, Sue Coppard looked forward to staying on her uncle's farm during the school holidays: "My brother and I, and cousin Charles who lived there, ran wild through the fields and woods and generally got up to mischief. I always hankered to get back."
But later, living and working as a secretary in London, she became increasingly frustrated that it was difficult to fulfil her "desperate need" to occasionally escape to the countryside. After hitting the phones, she managed to find a farm (Caplehurst Farm, now Emerson College) in East Sussex, which would accept "unskilled but willing townie labour" who were happy to work for board and lodging.
That was back in 1971 ? and Coppard admits she had no idea she was starting something that would become so long-lasting and influential. It was set up as Wwoof (Working Weekends on Organic Farms) and still has the same (and, arguably, irritatingly clumsy) acronym. It is run according to the same principles whereby volunteers work on "host" farms and smallholdings in exchange for food, accommodation and an opportunity to learn about organic agriculture and acquire practical skills.
The promise of a no-strings "Good Life" way of life is attracting a new wave of enthusiastic volunteers, of all ages, who have been unable to get jobs as a result of the recession or are disenchanted with a society driven by consumerism. Some, like Singleton, wwoof for the occasional day or weekends, while some do it as a cheap holiday and an opportunity to meet new people. Volunteers from overseas use it as a way to visit the UK and learn English. And there are even some long-term wwoofers who, content with a frugal existence and minimal personal possessions, adopt it as a permanent lifestyle. Some wwoof on their own, others in pairs and even groups.
Today in the UK there are 480 registered "hosts", and 5,534 active wwoofers, the volunteers who do the hard graft. Worldwide, there are an estimated 6,000 hosts in 100 countries. As the movement has grown, it has proved attractive to all ages.
"It's an adventure, you can visit other regions or countries relatively inexpensively and 'go native' and find out about the life of the people living there," Coppard says. "Perhaps some are dead keen, as I was, to get into the countryside. And I'm sure some ? especially when they learn more ? are converts to organic methods of farming and growing. Some even want to study these methods to pursue this as a career.
"And I guess it's a great way of getting physical exercise. You can try a different lifestyle, such as living in a commune or community as some wwoof places are. I know of wwoofers who have formed friendships with their wwoof hosts who have helped them through a difficult spell in their life."
For younger people, maybe those taking a gap year and struggling to find a job, working stints involve a supervised and "looked after" situation, are cheap (no money actually changes hands) and amount to a good working holiday. Friendships are formed and there have even been marriages, according to Wwoof spokeswoman Scarlett Penn, who has worked on both sides of the fence. She explains: "I guess it's always been a slow movement, word-of-mouth and, well, organic kind of organisation. In the past it was probably considered quirky, hippy and fringe, but with the burgeoning interest in the environment, local community, food and growing, suddenly we don't seem quite as bonkers as we did."
As the movement has evolved, wwoofers have grown at a faster rate and now outnumber their hosts by about 10 to one. As a simple "exchange" system, it relies on goodwill ? on both sides ? to make it successful. And the internet has transformed communication between volunteers and prospective hosts ? particularly when they are in different countries or even continents ? and helps to keep administrative fees low.
So how does it work? Wwoof UK holds a list of organic farms, gardens and smallholdings, all offering food and accommodation in exchange for practical help on their land. Official "organic" certification through a body such as the Soil Association is not required ? the idea is to have a commitment to the principles of sustainability and organic farming.
Some might warn of the possibility of hosts exploiting volunteers as "slave labour", though there are basic rules in place. Wwoofers can expect to work about five to six hours per day for five days a week, or a combination of hours/days to suit the parties involved ? but not more than 30 hours per week. And, importantly, the set-up aims to treat the parties as equals rather than an employer/employee situation.
To volunteer on host farms in the UK you have to become a member of Wwoof UK. The annual fee online is �20 for individuals, �30 for two applicants, and �30 for hosts. For insurance reasons members have to be 18, but if you are younger than this and accompanied by a parent/guardian who is a member, you can volunteer alongside them as their dependent.
Acland, 68, and his wife, have run their smallholding as part of a small community of neighbours and like-minded individuals for 35 years. "I suppose officially I am a lowland crofter, and we enjoy the satisfaction of being self-sufficient," he says. The couple have been Wwoof hosts since 2000 and reckon they've had 120-plus wwoofers in this time ? typically visiting every month of the year except December and January. "But we are increasingly finding we have to turn people away," he says.
Trudi Warner, 56, has been wwoofing for 10 years and says her life has been transformed. "I was doing weekend conservation work with the National Trust and I started to question what it was all about," she explains. "I would drive a long way in my car to clear a few rhododendrons. And it didn't tick the animal or the food production boxes for me."
Warner began by wwoofing at weekends in Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk, and went part-time in her job as a mental health clinician before eventually giving that up and wwoofing her way up the west coast to the Scottish islands. She rattles off an impressive list of skills acquired: "I can build dry-stone walls, I can forage, I can look after and milk animals, I can grow vegetables and I can bake my own bread. I feel fitter and healthier than I have done before as a result of the physical work and spending lots of time outdoors. But I have a brain and I felt ready to have some responsibility again." This month she accepted an offer of a new, part-time job, although she plans to carry on wwoofing in her spare time.
There are benefits ? often unexpected ? for the hosts too. Joy Attwood-Harris, 56, moved with her late husband George to a five-acre smallholding in Staffordshire in 1981, armed with a copy of The Complete Book of Self-Sufficiency by John Seymour. She recalls: "We never did manage to give up the day jobs, or not for long. We've gardened organically since then, and had a variable population of goats, ducks, geese, chickens, horses and cats plus a lot of vegetable garden, fruit trees/bushes, and an acre of trees coppiced for firewood."
They first heard about Wwoof in the 1980s from a local smallholder group, but it was only after George died in 2007 that Joy became a host, "to help keep the place going, and, if I'm honest, to fill the house with people and to keep me too busy to think".
The presence of the wwoofers enable her to "get work done which would be difficult, impossible or discouraging on my own. I get inspiration from people who understand what I'm trying to do, why I want to 'do things the hard way', growing my own food and fuel. And I get the company of a stimulating variety of people, some with thought-provoking alternative lifestyles."
She cheerily admits she has learned from her mistakes: "In the first year I booked a series of wwoofers for weeks on end, completely underestimating the management and catering overhead as well as the impact on my privacy. It peaked in August, after weeks of rain, when I had four French students, I ran out of indoor jobs for them, the 6ft tall heavy metal fan became anaemic and every time I wanted to sit down, there were people all over the couches."
Joy has learned to take wwoofers in mostly for the odd long weekend, with occasional longer stays, "so I get plenty of breaks. I don't commit to more than a week until I get to know them. Wwoofers live in my house as part of the family, so I need to be careful who I accept. I get far more requests from wwoofers than I can accommodate."
Clearly, tensions can arise. Some hosts complain of having to be like social workers. And there are numerous tales of woe posted by disgruntled wwwoofers on talk-boards, although they tend to be international visitors.
An Australian, Over50, posted on lowimpact: "I wwoofed on six organic farms in the UK a few years ago and except for one, I found it a disappointing experience. In all cases, none of my hosts met me at stations or bus stations when they said they would.
"On one occasion, I had to sit on a doorstep in freezing Aberdeenshire for my host to return from a meeting. I had a mobile phone and they had my number, hence they could have phoned to let me know they would be late. I felt this was an indication of things to come. And it was."
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/money/2011/apr/23/wwoof-world-wide-opportunities-on-organic-farms
