WWOOFing, Writing, and Water Currents

Preparing myself to write, I throw a split piece of fir on the fire, and sit close to the wood burning stove that heats my current accommodation. I chose the word "accommodation", because where I'm living isn't a room or a traditional house, but a teepee, constructed of canvas and wood, and sitting amongst the trees on a subsistence farm in Humboldt County, California. With an extension chord running from the main house to our humble abode, I sit down with my lap top, looking around at what I consider my most permanent residence since leaving Santa Fe, two and half months ago.

My writing this year has been sporadic. I blame the inconsistent internet access; I blame being in the middle of nowhere and camping. No, I realize I am truly culpable. I was unmotivated and I did wonder for a moment if the blog belonged to Thailand, if it was the end of that chapter when I left. And, it did, in a way. It was the end of a chapter, but in many ways it was just the beginning. It wasn't as though I didn't have anything to write about in Santa Fe, but I didn't see the experiences I was having in the same light that I saw those from Thailand. Thailand was like an incubator. It was a nurturing time of self discovery and, undoubtedly a mind expanding exercise, exposing me to alternative ways of thinking and living. However, leaving everything in Santa Fe, NM, driving a grand total of 6,000 miles with my boyfriend, Phil, and finding myself an hour outside of Arcata, CA, I'm realizing that, while much has changed, I am still building on the lessons I started in Asia. I am on the same path. It's as though a current runs through my life and while sometimes I am unsure of the direction I am heading, I know a river is never lost and I continue to find my way. So, I return to the blog, with plans of consistency in writing and beginning with WWOOFing in Hoopa, California.

It was after three visits to the mechanic between L.A. and Humboldt County, that any more extensive road tripping finally became out of the question. Fortunately, this whole area seems to be a place where we can see ourselves spending a lot of time. We began to explore the opportunities in and around Arcata and we ended up in the mountain community of Hoopa. The Hoopa are a Native American tribe in northern California, situated on the Trinity River, and about fifty miles inland from the Pacific. It was here that Phil and I found ourselves amongst voluptuous hillsides, watching the low hanging fog roll up from the coast to be later punctured by afternoon sunshine. We came to this beautiful location after getting involved with Worldwide Opportunities for Organic Farmers (WWOOF), an organization that helps to facilitate work exchanges between organic farms and volunteers by allowing volunteers to make profiles, search for prospective farms, and then connect with the farmers to coordinate exchanging room and board for work on the farm. We were running out of money, after being on the road for two months, but we also had wanted to take advantage of an opportunity to more seriously discover the meaning of organic farming, so we signed up. Now officially "WWOOFers", we are volunteering five hours a day, five days a week in exchange for the lovely teepee space and a stocked kitchen. The owner of the farm splits his time between working on the farm and a job in Arcata, where he claims to be a "fish doctor". Though he says this smiling, with a doctorate in ecology and an uphill battle in protecting salmon ecosystems in Hoopa, he really is. On top of his commitment to fish doctoring, he is working with a friend to cultivate an acre of land where they can provide organic food for the community and educate the people about agriculture as a way to change the health and wealth of the tribe. They see the future of the valley resting on the benefits of subsistence farming, a lifestyle and process that inspires Phil and I, so it seems to be a good match.

I was never running tillers and seeders in Thailand, or Santa Fe for that matter, but tromping around in work boots, hands deep in soil, and looking out over blackberry bushes to the Trinity River seems to fit. This is our introduction to farming in Humboldt County and we are harvesting tomatoes, beans, and squash instead of ganja. Who would have imagined? When it comes to what's next, we have started to consider a permanent residence in the town of Arcata, as four walls and a roof might be nice after three months of alternative living and sleeping choices. However, we ultimately haven't a clue what shape that will take. And, it's okay. Despite the lack of regular internet, nights spent in the car, and the overall uncertainty of our course, we have been finding peace in our process. Though sometimes appearing disjointed and unclear, I am starting to see the continuities between past experiences and my journey, finding beauty in not knowing. So, I tend to the fire, turn my ear to the sounds of the night, and submit to the flow of the current to show me the way.