Off to Cloudplay

6 buses. 2 car rides completely stranger danger free. 1car ride with stranger danger in the cramped backseat of the owner of a bus company’s sedan (they said they would get us from Eugene to Coos Bay and they did). 2 nights on a college couch. And finally, after 583 miles, we arrived at our new farm: Cloudplay.
Despite consistent communication with the host via email, I was completely unsure of what to expect from Cloudplay upon being picked up from the local library. But just as his teal green, ‘97 Honda Accord gradually ascended up one lane, gravel mountain roads, I gradually began to understand Cloudplay. Apparently, the “F” in WWOOF can be deceptive, because Cloudplay is not a farm, but rather the title of our host and his partner’s house and garden, which is located 3 miles from the closest neighbors in the Siskiyou mountains of Southwest, Oregon.

Vegetable garden

Our host strives to live sustainably. So when he and his partner returned to his handmade house this summer from living New Zealand for six years, his dreams took off. Using his own manpower, he dug up the beds for his vegetable garden and begun planting everything from tomatoes and butternut squash to kale and coriander.
Sustainability extends into all facets of his life. Living off the electrical grid due to his remoteness, he powers his house with solar panels. Unfortunately, the batteries for the solar panels failed for our first week here, giving us the unique opportunity, experienced by few outside of colonial Williamsburg actors, to live an 18th century lifestyle (unfortunately not the opportunity to blog). He heats his house with a wood burning stove, for which we have spent the past week collecting, splitting and stacking lots and lots and even more lots of wood.

Mmmmmm Birthday Cake!

Despite the lack of electricity, there has been a lot of positive and welcoming energy at Cloudplay. Upon only knowing me for a few hours, they treated me to a chocolate cake for my first birthday away from home. Unlike at Inca Gold Brand, we are treated to delicious dinners (ranging from Indian korma to tofu tacos) with no fear of food a couple years past its expiration date.

The sunset on the fall equinox, just a
two minute walk from the front door

Although this farm is no where near as absurd nor funny as Inca Gold Brand, it is great to actually be learning about sustainability, sleeping after 5:00 am without roosters calling, being treated well and see amazing views.

Goodbye Inca Gold Brand Farm

Although I have left Inca Gold Brand, it's spirit will forever live in my heart. But just in case you don't feel the Inca Gold Brand spirit in your heart, here are some pictures to help kindle that spirit:

https://picasaweb.google.com/112922538146548988762/IncaGoldBrandFarm

Just follow the link and flip through the pictures...

When Life Hands You Melons

  I asked one of the farmers a seemingly innocuous question: “So, what are we going to do today?” His answer was terrifying: “Just get dressed in clothes you don’t care about getting dirty or a little sticky. This is going to be fun.” Now this could only mean one of two things. Either we would be dealing with leftover, rotten fruit from the pervious harvest, or, and this seemed much more probable, we would be dealing with animal fecal matter (whether it was going to be cleaning it, moving it or swimming through it, I was unsure). I went into my room to put on some older jeans, but emerged a changed man. Maybe it was just the new clothes, but I felt a sense of wonder as I contemplated how my life would be different after swimming through cow, pig and emu poop.
  I hope you can understand how excited and relieved I was when the farmer opened his van to reveal two dozen watermelons*, a baseball bat and a machete. Earlier in the day he was faced with a fairly simple question: “What do you do when life hands melons?” I will forever be grateful for his answer: “Play fruit ninja.”


*Inca Gold Brand gets all of the leftover produce from the local Safeway to feed their animals, saving Safeway thousands of dollars in dumpster costs per year. 

Hello Inca Gold Brand Farm

After two planes, a train, a bus and a car ride, I arrived in Lynden, Washington (a small town ten minutes from Canada), at the first farm: Inca Gold Brand Farm. Before I entered the iron gate, I should have known that this farm was going to be “different.” There were clues all over their WWOOF profile. They claim to “coexist” with hundreds of animals and there is even an image of a man cuddling with eight dogs (but upon further review, it is seven dogs and a pig). They grow a horned fruit called the “Cuke Asaurus”. My contact with the farm typed in all caps. I should have known that this place was going to be “different.”
Upon entering the first gate to the farm, I was greeted by a dog which was just like any other dog and even reminded me of my own dog. It was a normal dog. Unfortunately, there was another gate. But behind this gate, everything I know and love about normality ceased to exist. The moment we opened the second gate I heard the excitement of my real greeting party. And the moment my host opened the door to the house, I saw my real greeting party: 14 dogs. Within a few seconds I was surrounded by these dogs and within just a few more seconds, I had stepped in poop and a large, black, shaggy dog was peeing on my luggage. Hello Inca Gold Brand Farm.

Feeding time in the goat/turkey/
peacock/goose/llama pen

Although those first two paragraphs may have made it seem although I am not happy at this farm, I am actually loving it here. There are so many animals. They rescue stray dogs from Chile, ranging from a Chihuahuas recovering from a skin illness to blind dog named Eddy. Roosters roam free and kindly let us know what the sun has risen. They also have a pen which is home to goats, turkeys, peacocks, geese and llamas all living happily together. I am sure that they have pushed the boundaries on how fat a cow and pig can possibly get (they actually almost got ticketed by an inspector for over feeding the animals). And my personal favorite aspect of this farm, they have emus. Emus!!!!!!

Cuke Asaurus in action

These animals are just pets, so their only crop is the Cuke Asaurus. The logical next question is “well gee Matt, what is a Cuke Asaurus?” I’m happy you asked. The Cuke Asaurus is what happens when you cross a cucumber and a dinosaur. When ripe, these spiky, orange, softball sized, fruits are great in smoothies, mixed drinks or eaten raw. Unfortunately, due to a poor growing season, we pick them green and they taste like a tart cucumber; however, the farmers are not concerned because they have another growing season in Chile which will be much more fruitful.
Over my first few days here, I have learned more about real life than I had ever imagined I would. Upon bringing up that I am from Washington D.C. during my ride from the bus station to the farm, I learned my first lesson: that everything east of the Mississippi River should fall off the face of the Earth, especially those damn politicians and lawyers (sorry Mom and Dad, apparently you got to go). I learned that expiration dates on meats mean nothing and subsequently that vegetarianism isn’t actually all that bad. But most importantly, I have learned to live your life however you want to. If you want to grow a tropical horned fruit in northern Washington, do it. If you want to coexist with hundreds of animals, do it. If you want to do something, do it.

And we're off

      I spent my prime summer days, weeks and months gearing up for this trip. I was either studying bus routes from farm to farm, weighing the pros and cons of spending five versus six weeks in Chile or doing some other task in preparation of the September 8th departure date. But now (September 11th) this flight is so much different than how I had dreamed of it. Instead of leaving from Washington D.C. right beside Reed, I departed from Syracuse, New York as an independent passenger. After an emotional weekend celebrating the amazing and loving life of Bob Flickinger, my uncle, I begin this trip with a heavy heart but a greater appreciation of my family and life.

The WWOOF USA logo

     For most of you, a word in the first paragraph probably looked like a highly improbably, but rather funny, typo: WWOOF. It is pronounced just like the word we use to teach babies the sound of a doggie, with no extension of the double “W” or need to shout because of the capital letters. WWOOF (World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms) is a great program that arranges people who are interested in sustainable agriculture with organic farms. Although the umbrella WWOOF organization does little more than publish a catalog of farmers who are interested in hosting WWOOFers and charging a $40 fee to access the catalog, it does establish the agreement between farms and WWOOFers where WWOOFers can work and learn on an organic farm in exchange for room and board. Essentially a free, mutually beneficial relationship.
After the whirlwind that is the senior year college process, Reed and I were coincidentally in identical situations going forward: so excited to be going great colleges (Matt at Middlebury College and Reed at Colorado College), but even more excited to be starting our colleges in the winter. We spent the next few weeks in Natalia’s ceramics class thinking abut all of the incredible possibilities for our fall. We could hike the Appalachian trial, travel around Europe, photograph Nessie and Bigfoot, discover the meaning of life and then be featured on Good Morning America to talk about our discovery. We could do anything. And then we got to planning…
After weeks planning, our three month long trip has evolved to its final form. We will spend just short of seven weeks WWOOFing in the United States, return home for a week before heading off to Chile to take four weeks of Spanish classes and go on a week long hiking expedition in Torres del Paine National Park in Patagonia, Chile.
On the domestic front, we will spend about two weeks each at farms in the northwest United States: one in Lynden, WA, just south of the Canadian border; one in southwest Oregon, just a stone’s throw from the Pacific; one just north of Bend, in central Oregon; and our last farm is in Northern California. Each farm is completely different from the one before it. One of our hosts keeps a Gerson diet, vegetarian without any salt or oil. Another one grows exotic fruits and claims to “coexist” with hundreds of domesticated animals ranging from chickens and cows to llamas and emus. And another farm grows over 200 different types of vegetables. I’m pumped.

Chilean Flag

In Chile, we will take Spanish classes for two weeks in both Vina del Mar, a fairly wealthy town just north of the culturally rich Valparaiso and Santiago, the capital of Chile. Hopefully with a bettsp of the Spanish language, we will travel to Torres del Paine in Patager graonia, the southern tip of South America and the “end of the world.” We will spend seven days traveling throughout the park, seeing mountains and glaciers. I’m pumped.


Thanks reading and I hope that you will continue to follow this blog as our journey unfolds. I’m so pumped.

The Birth of My Blogging Career

Holy shmoly, I am so pumped! I am pumped to be hunched over this netbook’s shrunken keyboard in the company of crying babies, dreaming travelers and flamboyant fight attendants who call me “Sunshine” on this powerful Boeing 737 headed to Seattle, Washington. But, I am even more pumped, that you find yourself at this blog because that means you either clicked a linked that I spammed on Facebook, or (and I really hope it is this second option) you are actually interested in how I am spending my time off between high school and college. I hope that as I experience my journey WWOOFing, traveling, learning Spanish and hiking, I can take you with me, even if only through this blog. Although my plane is 10,000 feet in the air, my journey is just taking off.