Mildura: The Return

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I was getting bored of city life, i wanted to go back to the real Australia, bring back the extreme heat, the dust, the insects, the backpacker lifestyle, everything to make me feel like i am travelling once again. I dont want to see cities that could be anywhere in the developed world, see all things English and easy, i want to feel challenged, far from the norm, away in a place i can learn and still don't fully understand, somewhere where the everyday life is more unpredictable than that of a city. Make me feel alive!

I awoke on the sofa at Bram's after a heavy night drinking in bars of names i cannot remember or even knew. I had overslept having not heard my alarm, luckily i was already packed so i got changed, had a wash and said goodbye before hailing a taxi taking me to Southern Cross Station...and i ran as much as one can with a backpack and small bag to my train and made it with about 2 minutes to spare.

The journey was a 4 hour train ride to Swan Hill and from there 3 hours by bus to Mildura. I had a strange sense of excitement, something i hadn't felt for a while, maybe it was the prospect of seeing many friendly faces or maybe it was the fact that i was alone, free and full of adventure. Who knows but what i can say for certain is that the journey was uneventful which was much to my relief.

On arrival in Mildura by the Murray River i had a crazy moment and decided to walk the approximate 4km to the hostel with backpack and all, it was another hot day but i just thought, 'why not'? I powered down Deakin Avenue passing slower walkers on the way, looking at me as if i was mad and then abruptly entered the Mildura Central Backpackers where i was greeted and given a beer by Christophe and then one by one met the others, it was like i had never left, minus a few characters. I took my room in unit 3 sharing with Steve and Nasa, the adopted english names of an extremely nice couple from Hong Kong.

A big group of us went back in to Mildura's centre to watch the carnival and have a couple of beers. Myself, Kristian and Are (the Norweigans) attempted to enter the grape crushing contest after much backing and encouragement from our very international group of friends, only to be thwarted at the last minute by a full number of teams.


Before the day was out i had caught up on any news such as the immigration sting at Treviso where the illiegal Indians scattered in a second, some getting caught, some hiding up under the covers of the grape vines but Chris, the 31 year old Yorkshireman, someone who i got on with very well had been taken away due to his expired visa, however because of pending sponsorship he had been given a 4 or 5 star hotel in Melbourne with any luxuries he desired. There were a couple of new faces who i would get to know but i had one important religious ritual to do that most people do every day at MCB...go to Woolworths.

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CARTMAN

I had work straight away which i was delighted about and not only that i had been given a good job, resulting in longer hours, better pay. The job was just outside a small town named Merbein for a very layed back Aussie bloke named Troy. The job was to last 7 days, picking buckets of grapes for raisens. While everybody picked the grapes, myself and Christophe, worked with Troy counting the buckets and stacking them on the trailer being carted by the tractor. It was dead easy apart from trying to count while walking and lifting at the same time. Once we had filled up a bigger trailor and tied the buckets
in place we drove slowly down the long dirt track from the farm and into the outskirts of town where the three of us emptied the buckets (about 1000 a day) onto wire racks and spread them one bunch thick for the drying process to begin. Once done we would return and repeat the whole process. I learned the basics of driving a tractor which was good fun and a new skill learned unexpectedly. Every morning break Troy and his wife would bring out toasted sandwiches, biscuits, tea and coffee and chat with us that was greatly appreciated by everyone.

Due to the dusty, bumpy road and us being loaded with buckets the journey into town was a slow process, excellent as we were being paid by the hour and great for conversation with Troy off whom i learned a great deal about Australia. He talked about him, his family, and other small talk amoungst things but what really interested me was the struggles the farms are having with the extreme weather. Out of the many patches of grapes on his farm, only one was being picked and that was by us. The heat had been so extreme that the grapes had all shrivelled and that was why we were picking them for raisens. He
mentioned that he was about $200,000 down that year and confirmed that farmers like him spend the whole year working for nothing until grape picking season which lasts 3 to 4 months when he would finally get some income. However if the grapes go bad they have nothing to sell. His resililience and cheerfulness was remarkable considering this even when the axle of his trailer broke twice on the way to town and slowed progress and i suspect putting a further dent in any profit.

The final day when everybody had finished picking he invited us to his house for some beer and snacks where we sat on the grass for a few hours chatting happily. It had been a pleasure working for him and in a way inspiring. Myself and Christophe returned on the monday to hand clean the 2,500 buckets before leaving after Troy had cheerfully helped us jump start the
dilapidated hostel bus.

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GRAPE PICKING

Never before have i worked for such a laughing stock. Grape picking for a Turkish contactor working at Treviso and another smaller vineyard. Two buses full of backpackers, one driven by me and one driven by Kristian drove to work each morning never knowing what to expect. I had been warned about the antics of the people that run the place by several fellow backpackers but that was the only work going at the moment so i went. The first day was ok as grape picking went after we were eventually shown where we were picking, waiting at the shed for an age before being shown the wrong patch on a map, then when i consulted a farmer he had no idea where we were. In the end we found it and i picked a row of grapes with Kristian earning $1 a box. You pick for orders so that means when the order has been picked you stop. I earned about $50 that day - not great but better than what was to come.

The next day we picked different, smaller grapes, getting $2 a box. It started raining after i had picked 3 boxes and we were sent home having earned a grand total of $6. The saga didn't end here. Layla had a phone call just after we had got home saying that we could go back to keep picking now the rain had stopped. Bearing in mind it took 30 minutes to drive there and the same back, we had driven 1 hour already for $6 earnings, it barely seemed worth it but i agreed to go so the others could get some decent money. So what do you know, we return, pick 3 more boxes to then be told that the order had been
picked and that we were to go home. $12! for 2 hours driving, getting changed into clean clothes, putting damp clothes back on and getting generally pissed off. Thank you very much.

I worked two more days picking grapes, earning $60 one day, being sent home before we started another after waiting around for about an hour and a half while 'i'll find which patch you are working on', said the manager. The final day of actual picking was comical. We drove to the farm like normal in two buses to then wait around for another age and then drive to the farm of the $12 episode. Some people had more or less given up before they had even started so Kristian rounded a bus load up and took them home. When the supervisor appeared he asked on the whereabouts of 12 pickers and i said that they had gone home because they weren't earning any money. all that was left was me, 3 Japanese and two Germans. The germans had only experienced this farsical type of work so i could only guess what they were thinking. The supervisor snapped at the absent Kristian. F**k him, he is a S**t man, i don't care about him. Trying to hold back my laughter i told the guy the number of boxes i had picked at the end and went home.

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SUNWEST

My next job was to last 3 days at Sunwest, somewhere i had spent many days slaving away in my weeding days. I was incharge of a group of 6 of us thinning fruit of two patches of mandarin trees. The thinning fruit involved pulling all of the prematurely developed, sunburnt of split fruit from the trees and discarding them in the tracks to be chopped up.

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HILLSTON


Having finished at Sunwest i was sitting outside in the sun reading a book when Layla called me over and said that Shane (my boss) wanted me and 3 others to go and join him in Hillston where Kristian, Are, Tomomi and Mariko were away working. This meant a little road trip so i asked when i would be going. The reply was lunchtime. It had already gone midday so i rushed around telling Chris, Cindy and Mandy to pack their things and get ready to go as we are leaving in one hour. I packed my work things and some clothes for after, i had no food to take so i grabbed a McDonalds, checked the water and oil in the van and we all packed our belongings and left.

The journey was to take 4-5 hours travelling from Mildura through Euston, Balranald and Hay, onto Hillston in NSW. I drove to Hay, uneventful, lots of nothing, miles and miles of nothing but dusty plains and shrubs. It was however interesting to see a few willy-willy's which are basically dust tornados that sweep across the desert like ground spiralling up into the sky. Quite impressive. At Hay we filled up with petrol and Chris took over the driving and within 5 minutes he had been pulled over for a random drink drive test. In the meantime i asked the other policeman which direction Hillston was in as our directions from Hay onwards were a bit vague. He pointed at the main road leading away into more nothingness. There were few cars, no houses for about an hour until we reached a small settlement which looked neglected, suitable for the
surroundings. It was here we took a dirt track for a good half an hour at least, heading into more even more remote land. We had a trail of dust maybe 200 metres long stretching behind us, the windows of the van didn't shut properly so we were choking although we were caught in the middle of a sandstorm. We passed one or two tiny looking houses on our left, both looking weathered, a couple of Kangaroos jumped nearby, it was dusk and this dusty dirt track kept going. I glanced at the petrol metre and noticed with some alarm it was on empty, we travelled perhaps another 40km before we thought we must be near civilisation, no petrol, no mobile phone signal, i did not want to break down here. Eventually, in the closing darkness we found tarmac as we chugged into Hillston, the first few houses looked like they were long abandoned and we edged down a strip of road, with two banks, a pub, a small supermarket and a petrol pump sitting on the roadside, unsheltered. There was no one to be seen on the streets, it was a ghost town set back in time. The street we had driven down from start to finish was probably 500 metres long at the very most and this was in fact the only road with anything on for over 100km. We were literally in the middle of nowhere. We found the caravan park on the other side of town, checked in and drove a short
distance to our cabin, as it happened next to the others. They came out to greet us and we unloaded our things and observed our surroundings.

The cabin contained a toilet/shower room, a tiny hob, oven, tv, table, chairs, some cupboards, hardly any cooking equipment, a fridge, a double bed and 3 prison style beds. I grabbed the double bed without hesitation, the cabin wasn't tiny but it was certainly troublesome manouvering about with 4 people inside. The hobs and oven didnt work together, not that that mattered as i had no food and was disturbed later when the others told me that the supermarket shut at 5.30pm. With work the next day when the hell was i going to buy food!? The prison beds were a joke, solid matresses, the beds stacked on top of each other, one, two, three. Chris described it like sleeping on shelves. I had to agree, the three of them looked
like toys that had been put away for the night. The bottom beds matress was on the floor,head height was about 2 ft and anyone over 4 and a half foot tall would have trouble lying straight, being in a shelf however you couldnt exactly stick your feet out at the end. One other little point i nearly forgot was that we didnt have pilows, bed sheets or anything like that but luckily Shane was at reception and he talked to the staff and then they found us some in a locked cupboard outside.

That night myself and Kristian went out to the only other place in Hillston, a kind of working mens club, with restaurant, bar, pokies, pool table, juke box and function room. The reason we had gone out was to get me some food, which i did get, vegetable omelette chinese style. We happened to bump into our boss Shane drinking alone outside so we joined him. Before we new it we had consumed about 10 pints of beer each, the table was full of empty glasses, some locals had joined us, a couple of twins, i gathered that they were the owners of a pub up the road, probably the one i had seen on my arrival and they bought us drinks. One of the bar staff Janita came over after work, or during work im not sure, i was extremely drunk.Bottom line is a lot was drunk and it was me, Kristian, Shane, and some locals, surrounded by a brewerys worth of emptyglasses and bottles. Totally unexpected, totally random. Kristian and I stumbled back to the caravan park next door, falling into one another, laughing and making use of the mile wide pavement, or at least it might have been a mile wide due to our staggering. I got in, Chris looked at me, or in my direction, his look suggested, why am i in jail with an alcoholic. Before i knew it i was dead to the World.

Approximately 5 hours later i awoke to get ready for work. I felt so sick, i had to get petrol, drive to work and then do some work. At least getting drunk with the boss means you have an excuse. Kristian was in much the same state as me. I forced myself to be sick, went outside for some fresh air and noticed the racket of birds. Thousands of Cockatoos and Parrots making a huge volume of noise. It wasnt my hangover, it turned out it was an every morning and evening thing.

I filled up with petrol, cutting myself in the process so that when i paid i had a steady stream of blood dripping from my left wrist, i must have looked a right state. I followed Shane up a tarmac road then onto another dirt track, not seeing one passing vehicle. Only a dead Kangaroo that had been savaged by birds.

The work turned out to be relatively easy, snapping braches using our gloved hands, getting 20 cents per tree, all to help growth and future maintenance, This was to last 3 days continuing with what the other 4 had been doing the rest of the week. The one problem with this job is the scratches you get on your wrists and forearms and as the days pass, the more scratches you get. There was plenty of work to be done and in the 3 days i did 1813 trees. The 7 others were good company throughout, the first day we stopped work 1 hour early just to go to the supermarket and by everything we would need for the coming days.
Instead of carrier bags we were given boxes. The road kept producing dead animals, a small fox, a parrot sharing the same fate as the hardly recognisable kangaroo.

The biggest highlight during work hours was undoubtably the Kangaroos that we watched boxing. As we pulled up to the first patch of the day, the sun still developing in the sky, everyone sat watching this sight, a first for everyone, on a clear piece of land about 100 metres from the van two Kangaroos going at it, fist for fist and what made it more impressive was that they had spectators, not us but other kangaroos, sitting in a rough circle and a couple of pairs a bit further in the distance looked like they were imitating the main event, maybe it was one big training session. Whatever it was, it was amazing to witness and it only ended as the van door slid open.

The best patch in which we worked we nicknamed 'the goldmine' as it was a very easy patch, sometimes we didnt even have to do anything so you could walk past five trees and have a dollar in your pocket. I calculated that the fastest of us were effectively earning close to $40 an hour while working this patch. Unfortunately we only had a couple of goes at it before it was finished.

The evening of the day we finished, Shane treated us to a chinese dinner at the place next door, a place he said did the best chinese in Australia, i couldn't disagree. Afterwards we drank beer, played pool and listened to music on the jukebox.

All that was left to do was drive back. Chris was to drive the first leg, me the second. The van was packed as tightly as possible with eight people inside plus luggage, for a substantial drive.


We drove for long time once again with nothing of interest to report unless you are amused by desert conditions and straight roads, however we passed the entrance to a property of some sort set way back out of sight. The interesting thing was at the entrance was a long pole, maybe 25 metres high and perched on top was a fully intact red mini. It was so bizarre. After we passed Hay i noticed one again that petrol levels were low and then empty, Chris was still driving but i didnt want to alarm anybody to this problem. There were no petrol stations anywhere anyway, just a herd of straying cows grazing absent mindedly by the roadside and on the road, unconcerned by us or any passing traffic. So all things considered, i shut my eyes and tried to sleep hoping we would reach the next town before a serious problem arose.

Then it happened. We ground to a halt, ironically, very close to a bend after hours of driving straight. After assessing our options Chris flagged down a passing car, only the second to pass. He had planned to hitch a ride into the nearest town, Balranald, about 20km away and somehow get some petrol and return. As luck would have it, the guys had some spare petrol that they sold to us for $25 which saw us on our way. We filled up at the next petrol station and then i took over driving and we returned home by afternoon,
looking like a failed suicide cult due to the amount of scratches and cuts acquired on our lower arms.

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Activities in Mildura alongside work have included the usual socialising, reading books, as i have joined Mildura library and inadvertantly other people have started to join me in reading on the sofa outside downstairs. I had a nightout in town in which i walked home with a trolley and Kristian spent a night in a cell because some Indian guy tried kissing him and a fight broke out.

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My next job was to be for two days at an almond farm doing contract work moving drip lines. Myself, Chris. Kristian and Are left Mildura at some obscene hour, long before dawn in a bus full of Tongans and arrived eventually on a huge complex. We stood around for ages waiting for something to happen and then all of a sudden the Tongans stood around in a circle and prayed. Different. A few minutes later some machines were in action that would not be out of place on the moon or in Wacky Races. Truly science fiction like things in operation. So we spent the day moving drip lines out from under almond trees and riding around on mules, a cross between a quad bike and a golf buggy. good fun.

The next day i returned with Chris, Steve and Till. After prayer we cracked on and it was to be the day i earnt my most in any da in Australia to date. $186. But when you havn't seen daylight in Mildura for two days and have been working and travelling for 24 hours in the last 48 the money is still debatable. On the way home one of the big Tongan blokes tapped the shoulder of another and pointed in the direction of Till, the weird German, he was sleeping in such a manner that it had got the attention of a few people and now i was creasing with laughter. He was leaning forward, face in a strange posture and with his recently shaved head, pale grin and freaky smile, he looked like someone suffering from leukemia who had just departed into a ghostly trance.

It was back at Sunwest and Tarcoola for the next few weeks, working initially just with Chris, doing the most joint destroying work i have ever done. We had to chop and saw every tree on 3.5 patches up to the crown, leaving a flush finish. The problem with this was the fact we spent hours each day (between 8-10) kneeling on rock solid ground, digging into the knees and cartilage, the trees were sharp with thorns and at the bottom of each tree was an ants nest, the weather was warm and the flies were out. After two days myself and Chris had a radical solution, we went to Bunnings Warehouse, Australia's B&Q eqivalent and spent $3 on a kneeling pad. It turned out to be the best investment of my life. Two new guys joined us, two brothers from Portsmouth, nice guys, full of enthusiasm. After a couple of days they looked defeated and one of them said, 'Im prepared to work hard and give it my all but i feel like ive been hit by a train' I agreed, i mean i suppose being hit by a train would be a small bit worse but our mobility was down to that of a 3000 year old, bed ridden tortoise, we may well as be regulary being bulldozed my some sort of heavy machinery.

At Tarcoola me and Chris cut some long grass with a hedge trimmer and raked the cut grass into the tracks. I was certain to see a snake and once i thought i did but it was just some grass waving around in the wind.

To finish up the four of us thinned a patch of trees from excess fruit in which this lasted about 3 or 4 days.

It was nearly time to go to Queensland for a couple of weeks but first i had one day of work left. I was back at Treviso vineyard. My job was uncovering the rows of grapes and wrapping them up ready for next year. So we got there and our supervisor, a turk with seemingly two personalities, very messed up, looked at the tractor which had broken the day before and tried to start it by kicking it. Nope. So we uncovered the rows but our supervisor was missing for a couple of hours. We could hear him driving around the farm in high revs but we just sat there for a couple of hours with nothing to do. It was contract so we were frustrated but we laughed at the same time because of course, this was Treviso. I didnt go back the next day. Instead i waited for the weekend and my flight to Brisbane.

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