On our first day back in Byron, after our ‘holiday’, the 6 of us sat on the beach in the glorious sunshine in the early afternoon with an esky full of beers and wine, and had a few drinks til the sun went down.
It was nice to be the 6 of us again, but it was short lived. The next day, Tom packed up his tent and carried on with his travels up the coast.
After a couple more days in the pouring rain, again, Keeley, Paddy and I went off with the car in our search for fruit picking work. Giraffe and Sander were meant to come with
us, but in the time since the rest of us had been in Surfers, they’d been having such a good time that they decided they weren’t ready to leave yet.
Keeley and I spent an entire day in Byron searching the web and calling workers hostels to see where there was any work available. Having no success we decided to do it ourselves by just driving around and asking at places along the way.
We drove and drove along empty roads that seemed to go on forever. After about 4 hours, as it was starting to get dark, we stopped at a small town and went into the local pub for a beer. I don’t remember the name of the town, but it was definitely somewhere where they don’t get a lot of visitors. As we walked in, the place went quiet and people stared....and I swear the music stopped and out of the corner of my eye I saw tumbleweed roll past!
Sitting out the front of the pub looking over vast amounts of nothingness, we got chatting to the locals, who were considerably pissed despite the time of day. Ignoring the ripped clothes, missing teeth and six fingers, they actually turned out to be pretty useful. They told us about a place we’d never heard of called Gin Gin, where there’s lots of fruit to pick, which we wouldn’t have known about otherwise. It’s not a place that’s in your standard travel book, and soon we would find out why...
And so, with a place to head for this time, we hit the road again, map in hand, and headed towards Gin Gin. As it was getting darker, and still being God knows how many hours away, we stopped at the next town we came across to find a motel to crash for the night. We ended up in Maryborough, another nothing town, and got ourselves booked in for the night. The motel we stayed at had a bar attached so we popped in there for a quick one before going to bed.
This bar was nothing special, but it was for some people...While we were in there a minibus full of guys pulled up outside. It was one of their birthdays, and this was a crazy night out for them in the small town of Maryborough, going to a roadside motel bar! What exciting lives these country folk lead! Without them there the place was almost empty.
The next day, well rested, we were back on the road. We stopped a few times to ask for any information or directions at small towns we came across along the way, asking in the local shops or petrol stations. That afternoon we arrived in Gin Gin and were far from pleasantly surprised. Gin Gin consists of a small post office, library, hotel with bar, and a few petrol stations selling every variety of fatty deep fried food known to man. It’s a true truck-stop town with nothing beyond the main road.
We went straight into one of the petrol stations to ask where we could find the nearest campsite, to be told we were already there! Round the back of the petrol station was a caravan park, with a patch of land where we could pitch our tents!
Before taking a proper look we went off in search of the citrus farms we’d been told about. It really was a wild goose chase; we were being sent in all directions. Tom told us to find Dick with the silver Nissan truck, who sent us towards the house where Harry lived who mentioned Doris who had a house next to the farm where Rick worked... you get the idea. So after being sent round in circles we found Rick, working hard amongst rows and rows of lemon trees on this hot and humid Sunday afternoon. After a quick chat he agreed to give us a trial in 3 days time.
It was nice to be the 6 of us again, but it was short lived. The next day, Tom packed up his tent and carried on with his travels up the coast.
After a couple more days in the pouring rain, again, Keeley, Paddy and I went off with the car in our search for fruit picking work. Giraffe and Sander were meant to come with
us, but in the time since the rest of us had been in Surfers, they’d been having such a good time that they decided they weren’t ready to leave yet.Keeley and I spent an entire day in Byron searching the web and calling workers hostels to see where there was any work available. Having no success we decided to do it ourselves by just driving around and asking at places along the way.
We drove and drove along empty roads that seemed to go on forever. After about 4 hours, as it was starting to get dark, we stopped at a small town and went into the local pub for a beer. I don’t remember the name of the town, but it was definitely somewhere where they don’t get a lot of visitors. As we walked in, the place went quiet and people stared....and I swear the music stopped and out of the corner of my eye I saw tumbleweed roll past!
Sitting out the front of the pub looking over vast amounts of nothingness, we got chatting to the locals, who were considerably pissed despite the time of day. Ignoring the ripped clothes, missing teeth and six fingers, they actually turned out to be pretty useful. They told us about a place we’d never heard of called Gin Gin, where there’s lots of fruit to pick, which we wouldn’t have known about otherwise. It’s not a place that’s in your standard travel book, and soon we would find out why...
And so, with a place to head for this time, we hit the road again, map in hand, and headed towards Gin Gin. As it was getting darker, and still being God knows how many hours away, we stopped at the next town we came across to find a motel to crash for the night. We ended up in Maryborough, another nothing town, and got ourselves booked in for the night. The motel we stayed at had a bar attached so we popped in there for a quick one before going to bed.
This bar was nothing special, but it was for some people...While we were in there a minibus full of guys pulled up outside. It was one of their birthdays, and this was a crazy night out for them in the small town of Maryborough, going to a roadside motel bar! What exciting lives these country folk lead! Without them there the place was almost empty.
The next day, well rested, we were back on the road. We stopped a few times to ask for any information or directions at small towns we came across along the way, asking in the local shops or petrol stations. That afternoon we arrived in Gin Gin and were far from pleasantly surprised. Gin Gin consists of a small post office, library, hotel with bar, and a few petrol stations selling every variety of fatty deep fried food known to man. It’s a true truck-stop town with nothing beyond the main road.
We went straight into one of the petrol stations to ask where we could find the nearest campsite, to be told we were already there! Round the back of the petrol station was a caravan park, with a patch of land where we could pitch our tents!
Before taking a proper look we went off in search of the citrus farms we’d been told about. It really was a wild goose chase; we were being sent in all directions. Tom told us to find Dick with the silver Nissan truck, who sent us towards the house where Harry lived who mentioned Doris who had a house next to the farm where Rick worked... you get the idea. So after being sent round in circles we found Rick, working hard amongst rows and rows of lemon trees on this hot and humid Sunday afternoon. After a quick chat he agreed to give us a trial in 3 days time.
Incase you didn’t realise, I have a one year working holiday visa for Australia. In order to extend it by another year, we need to do 88 days of ‘agricultural’ work in a rural area. So basically, fruitpicking in the middle of the outback. We were certainly not doing this for fun!
We left the farm and drove the 10km back to the petrol station/camp site, our new home for who knows how long, to set up our tents. After getting ourselves organised we drove down the road to the Gin Gin hotel, the only establishment in the area that resembled a pub. Unlike pubs at home with a beer garden that would be busy on a sunny Sunday afternoon, this one was empty. After a few schooners of low carbohydrate beer we were back in our camp, just the 3 of us, cooking dinner on our gas stove, when the first of many of our neighbours came over to day g’day.His name was Bill, he was probably in his late 40s, and lived here in his caravan. He was covered in tattoos, skinny, but with a gut hanging over his jeans, wearing what i’m guessing used to be a white vest but was now a dirty shade of grey. He had long hair, no bottom teeth, and a rolled up cigarette permanently in his hand. We had a chat and he offered us his tarp, after he’s spent a while watching Paddy attempting to put our too-small tarp up over our camp. He even offered us the use of his fridge, which he had in the awning joined on to his caravan. This was an offer we couldn’t refuse as it was so hot that even an esky full of ice couldn’t keep our food cold. We never went inside his caravan, despite him offering for us to watch TV in there several times, and there was a good reason for this. His awning stank of stale cigarettes and coffee. There were dirty stains covering everything from the floor to the table and chairs, even all over the fridge. But we were in no position to judge, we needed a fridge and he had one to spare!
Our next neighbour to introduce himself was Sam the bird man. Sam was Italian but had lived in Australia for a long time, I think since the 70s, but that’s a rough guess as he
has the strongest accent that is nearly impossible to understand. Sam was an old guy who was on his own. Again, he lived in the caravan park. At all times of the day he could be found sitting on his step, watching nothing go by. And then there were the parrots. At the same time every day hundreds of wild parrots would swoop down on the patch of land outside his caravan and eat out of the six plates of bird food Sam had left there for them. This was a nightmare, the noise drove us, and I’m sure everyone else, crazy, every day. But you had to feel sorry for Sam. He was an old man on his own with only his birds to keep him company. It was never a good idea to make any kind of eye contact with Sam, as he took that as an invitation for a chat. And as sad as it was to see him alone, the conversations never ended, and none of us could understand a word he said. So that was Sam the bird man.Behind our
tents we had a giant blue Winnebago, one of the old school ones that was probably about 20 years old. It had grass growing up the side of it, about 10 inches high, so it was clear these neighbours hadn’t been anywhere in a long time. They had an air conditioning unit attached to the side, balancing on a wooden shelf which was nailed to the Winnebago. Outside the front were a load of cars, all with parts missing, and then there was all sorts of other junk. In the 3 and a half weeks I was there, I never quite figured out who lived there, or how many of them there were. People were coming and going all the time, and I don’t think one of them weighed less than 20 stone. How they all fit in there I have no idea!The day after we arrived, with nothing to do for a couple of days, we drove to Bundaberg, about 45 minutes away. Bundaberg is where we were originally heading, as they have about 7 workers hostels there, where they help backpackers in search of fruit picking work. Bundaberg is a big town in comparison to Gin Gin, but it’s nothing special. We just wandered around, stocking up on camping supplies and stopping for lunch. We asked in a hotel where the nearest beach was, and she pointed us in the direction of Moore’s Park, about another 45 minutes away. Off we went in search of this beach, realising just how far from the coast we were in Gin Gin. A figure like 90% of Ozzies live by the sea, so to be an hour and a half away shows what a rural area we were staying in.
We had to walk through a wooded area to get to the beach, and suddenly through the opening you could see the sea. It was beautiful, and the sea was so warm. We hadn’t intended on going to the beach when we left our camp so none of us had any swimwear. So instead, we just sat on the beach talking and looking out to sea. After a while, I started to notice splashes in the distance, only about 70 metres from the beach. As I watched closely I realised they were dolphins, loads of them, splashing in and out of the water. It was a real surprise. Here we were in the middle of no where, miles away from anyone, on this beach that was tucked away, watching dolphins swimming in the sea.
After a day sitting around our campsite doing nothing, it was time to start work. In preparation, when we were in Bundaberg, we’d bought factor 30 sunscreen and big floppy hats, aware of how strong the sun gets and that we’d be out in it all day. We joined an induction at 7am, with a group of backpackers who’d come by minibus from Bundaberg. After hearing about health and safety, we were given our bags and sizing rings and set to work. We took our car down and parked it in between two rows of lemon trees. There were lemon trees as far as the eye can see, and we were given two rows each to work on. At the top of each row were our step ladders. Basically what we had to do was measure every lemon on the tree, which is why we were given sizing rings. Anything too small we couldn’t pick, and the farmers came round to check! We were given snips, and shown the way we were to cut to lemons from the trees. This was something
else the farmers checked. If any length of stalk was left on the lemons, it would dig into the other lemons and therefore ruin them! The rules were endless, but ultimately what we had to do was get up and down the trees as quickly as we could, filling our bags (which were strapped to us) and emptying them into a half-tonne crate.We were paid by the amount of crates we filled, and each one was worth around $90. Have you seen what half a tonne of lemons looks like?! An impossible task is what it is! On our first day we worked ourselves so hard and none of us filled one more that ¾!
Something else we weren’t warned about prior to starting were the thorns in the trees. These grow up to two inches long and were so sharp. Despite being given gloves, they pierced straight through, going under our nails, into our hands, and scraping all over our arms and legs through our clothes. When we got in from our first day we were exhausted and scratched and scarred. It was horrific, as though we’d been attacked by someone with a penknife! And this was day one, 87 to go!
Each day came and went, and we gradually got better, learning techniques from the locals who had been doing it for years and picked four crates by lunchtime, and we were eventually picking just under t
wo bins a day. Still not great, but a massive improvement. I feel like now I could answer any questions about lemons you fire at me. In fact, it got to a point that at one stage all we ever talked about were lemons, I even dreamt about them! Worrying indeed.... They were taking over my life for the time that I was there! If we went into the supermarket, we’d look at the lemons, which were often small, and wondered how whoever picked them got away with picking them so small without being caught by the farmers!Despite the occasional spiders, snakes, and once even a kangaroo, our days working amongst miles and miles of lemon trees were pretty uneventful. You had to work alone, so it was pretty boring and mind-numbing. I used to take my i-pod and speakers, and leave them playing music full blast under a tree. It was the only way I could get through the days.
With a cyclone coming, we were warned that we could be off work for a few days. Most people would be glad to have time off work, except us. We lived in a hillbilly town where there was nothing to do. And if there was a cyclone coming, our little camp was certain to get destroyed!
We couldn’t work for about 4 days (picking lemons when they’re damp bruises them), so we had to entertain ourselves somehow. Thankfully the cyclone didn’t hit us head on, and so our tents were safe.
On our second or third night I had noticed a campervan which had set up camp not far from where we were. I’d gone over to explore, and met Lisa. Lisa was a 27 year old primary school teacher from New South Wales, who was relocating to Brisbane. While waiting for her job to start in Brissy she had decided to pick lemons in Gin Gin! She worked on a different farm to ours, but hated it just the same.
Lisa became my absolute saviour! For me, travelling with a couple was really difficult, and no matter what, you’ll always be the third person. So after meeting Lisa I spent all my time over at her camp, drinking cheap wine from a carton, playing cards, listening to music and talking rubbish about nothing for hours on end. Over the days when we were rained off from work, the two of us would go for drives to see what else was around this redneck area. Or we’d just happily play cards for hours without even realise how long we’d been playing because we’d been talking the whole time.
One day, still off work and with Lisa not around, we discovered that it was Gin Gin’s 130th birthday. Not wanting to miss such a special occasion, me, Paddy and Keeley followed the (small) crowds of rednecks to a field where they were having a celebratory fayre. This was an interesting insight into how these small town people lived. I’m sure for some, this was the highlight of their month, maybe even their year, preparing for this special event! First was a parade through the only road in the town, which led to the fayre. At the fayre there were all sorts of exciting things going on. They had camel rides, face painting, and even the ‘Gin Gin Cloggers’, a group of about 15 middle aged women tapping away on stage til they were red in the face and could barely bre
athe!Not fitting in amongst the locals (because we had all our teeth, clean clothes, and weren’t wearing a cowboy hat), we stayed long enough to get a feel for the celebration and then left to head back to our camp, to do nothing, again.
By now it had been about 3 weeks since we’d left the boys in Byron, and I was hating every minute! We came here to work, and were rained off so many times that I’d probably only worked half the time I was there. One Friday morning, after having been at work long enough to pick ¼ of a bin, it started to rain, and so of course we were sent home. When we arrived back at the camp, Lisa was also there having been sent home. I went over to her to partake in our usual card-playing, wine drinking routine when we realised we probably wouldn’t work for the whole weekend.
With this in mind, we decided to go on a road trip. I left my tent pitched but grabbed my backpack, and jumped into Lisa’s campervan. We headed towards Agnes Waters and the Town of 1770, which are homes to Queensland’s most northerly surf beaches. It took us a couple of hours to get there, and the rain was horrendous, but it was worth it when we arrived. Saying that, of course anywhere is an improvement on Gin Gin and its surroundings!
The weather cleared up enough for us to appreciate the beautiful beaches and landscapes. The coastal roads were lined with holiday homes that must cost a small fortune to rent out
to tourists, and they were absolutely stunning, set into the hillsides. In the Town of 1770 they have a huge marina, but no yachts, more like the local's fishing boats, nothing that looks like it's worth a great deal.
We arrived quite late, but not too late to get some fish and chips in this small seaside town and sit on the beach to eat them.
The following morning, after spending the night sleeping in the campervan next to the sea, we were up bright and early to hit the beaches of these two towns, which are 5 km apart. We made picnics and went to sunbathe, and feel considerably lazy watching all the other backpackers learning to surf with the various surf schools. I promise myself I will do it one day! There’s not a great deal to do in these towns aside from learn to surf, or relax, but the beauty of it makes it worthw
hile!
At the end of the day, after enjoying chilling out in the sunshine, swimming in the lukewarm sea and having eating in the town’s cafes, it was time to head back to face the reality of fruit picking!
We didn’t have work the next day and so it was back to the normal routine of playing cards under Lisa’s tarp in the pouring rain. It was that day that I decided it wasn’t worth me staying in Gin Gin any longer. Lisa was leaving soon and I wasn’t up for being the third person every time it rained, and considering it was Queensland’s rainy season it was bound to be a regular occurrence. And so I made an appointment at the library, the only place in the town that has access to the internet, and booked my flight out of there!
My plan was always to head down to Melbourne at the end of March, as one of my good friends Steve was flying over for a holiday. I booked my flight from Brisbane to Melbourne for a week later, and went into the local shop to arrange for a bus to collect me and take me to Brisbane where I would spend the rest of the week. I worked one last day at the farm, then packed up my tent, and slept my last night in the car. At 5 in the morning, Paddy and Keeley took me to the launderette, where I had to wait for the greyhound coach to pick me up.
Whilst making my decision, Tom, who was travelling with us previously, had got in touch to say he was back in Surfers Paradise, and so I decided that once I’d spent 8 hours on the bus, (in what would have been a 4 hour journey by car), I would arrive in Brisbane and get the train straight out of there to Surfers, where Tom was waiting to pick me up.
I don’t think I’ve looked forward to seeing anyone so much before! He’d booked an apartment in Surfers, a different one from where we stayed before. When I arrived he’d filled the fridge with all the food he knew I liked, and bought me bottles of rose wine, a nice change from the cheap stuff I’d been drinking out of cartons. On that first night we sat on the balcony having a drink and catching up on the events since we’d last seen eachother. Safe to say he’d had a better time than I had! At that moment in time I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather have been.
Gin Gin was an experience, but not a good one. I only managed to get about 15 out of my 88 days fruit picking done in just under a month. Had I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have gone insane with boredom, especially after Lisa had left. The only good thing to come from it was that at least I’d got some work done and out of the way, and I met a new friend who I’m sure I will see again when I eventually get to Brisbane and spend some time there.
I only spent a few days in Surfers with Tom, doing nothing different from what we did the first time we were there, but I had a great time being amongst people in the real world. Being able to wander from the apartment into the town centre to grab a starbucks, or get a chinese takeaway, were real novelties after the last month I’d had!
On day four, I was up, ready and waiting at 6am for my bus that was taking me to the airport, to head to Melbourne, yet again.
The following morning, after spending the night sleeping in the campervan next to the sea, we were up bright and early to hit the beaches of these two towns, which are 5 km apart. We made picnics and went to sunbathe, and feel considerably lazy watching all the other backpackers learning to surf with the various surf schools. I promise myself I will do it one day! There’s not a great deal to do in these towns aside from learn to surf, or relax, but the beauty of it makes it worthw
hile!At the end of the day, after enjoying chilling out in the sunshine, swimming in the lukewarm sea and having eating in the town’s cafes, it was time to head back to face the reality of fruit picking!
We didn’t have work the next day and so it was back to the normal routine of playing cards under Lisa’s tarp in the pouring rain. It was that day that I decided it wasn’t worth me staying in Gin Gin any longer. Lisa was leaving soon and I wasn’t up for being the third person every time it rained, and considering it was Queensland’s rainy season it was bound to be a regular occurrence. And so I made an appointment at the library, the only place in the town that has access to the internet, and booked my flight out of there!
My plan was always to head down to Melbourne at the end of March, as one of my good friends Steve was flying over for a holiday. I booked my flight from Brisbane to Melbourne for a week later, and went into the local shop to arrange for a bus to collect me and take me to Brisbane where I would spend the rest of the week. I worked one last day at the farm, then packed up my tent, and slept my last night in the car. At 5 in the morning, Paddy and Keeley took me to the launderette, where I had to wait for the greyhound coach to pick me up.
Whilst making my decision, Tom, who was travelling with us previously, had got in touch to say he was back in Surfers Paradise, and so I decided that once I’d spent 8 hours on the bus, (in what would have been a 4 hour journey by car), I would arrive in Brisbane and get the train straight out of there to Surfers, where Tom was waiting to pick me up.
I don’t think I’ve looked forward to seeing anyone so much before! He’d booked an apartment in Surfers, a different one from where we stayed before. When I arrived he’d filled the fridge with all the food he knew I liked, and bought me bottles of rose wine, a nice change from the cheap stuff I’d been drinking out of cartons. On that first night we sat on the balcony having a drink and catching up on the events since we’d last seen eachother. Safe to say he’d had a better time than I had! At that moment in time I couldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather have been.
Gin Gin was an experience, but not a good one. I only managed to get about 15 out of my 88 days fruit picking done in just under a month. Had I stayed any longer I’m sure I would have gone insane with boredom, especially after Lisa had left. The only good thing to come from it was that at least I’d got some work done and out of the way, and I met a new friend who I’m sure I will see again when I eventually get to Brisbane and spend some time there.
I only spent a few days in Surfers with Tom, doing nothing different from what we did the first time we were there, but I had a great time being amongst people in the real world. Being able to wander from the apartment into the town centre to grab a starbucks, or get a chinese takeaway, were real novelties after the last month I’d had!
On day four, I was up, ready and waiting at 6am for my bus that was taking me to the airport, to head to Melbourne, yet again.
