HUDSON VALLEY – The search for meaning and purpose at the end of a major life-phase proves daunting. For many, it is far easier to walk across a commencement stage than to step off it. Without a concrete plan in place, where can one turn? Utterances of the phrase “gap year” are often met with disapproval. Self-discovery is stigmatized as wasteful meandering through integral periods of life. Those lacking clarity of purpose are not exclusively young, though. What are career milestones to some are walls to others. Development of hobbies, travel, and changes in lifestyle are common remedies. If these temporary fixes developed into permanent solutions to crises of identity, economic stagnation, or yielded positive externalities, perhaps they would be held in higher esteem.

Joining “Coppard’s Land Army” may offer the right blend of novelty and genuine opportunity. Worldwide Opportunities of Organic Farms (WWOOF), nicknamed by SEED writer Michael Allaby after its founder Sue Coppard, grants over 100,000 people around the world a potential remedy. Coppard’s nostalgia for outdoor childhood adventure instilled a desire to reconvene with nature. In 1971 her clever bartering with a farmer in rural England established the first WWOOF trip. She, a secretary with sparse agricultural experience, and three friends spent the weekend enjoying the serenity of the landscape without cost, paying instead with their labor - clearing brambles, weeding, and other efforts. Word of mouth spread the idea across the British countryside, farmers eager to attain free workers. Allaby’s article popularized this concept of a weekend outing of servitude. “Contact with nature is the psychological equivalent of vitamin C,” Coppard has said on the benefits of the experience. 

Now a global phenomenon, inhabitants of more than 100 counties have participated in the practice, registering themselves and their farm as official “hosts” through WWOOF’s website. Tenant farming for the Airbnb generation, membership to WWOOF enables volunteers to travel with only the limits of time they are willing to spend on each farm, tending to be small and independent entities. Periods of stay expanded to several months from the original weekend idea. Hosts instruct on the practices of organic farming. Guests learn through experience. Equal parts vacation, part-time job, and educational venture, WWOOF presents a truly unique opportunity.

Dr. John Bovay, a professor of Agricultural Economics at the University of Connecticut, values the organization’s merits but questions its economic viability. “I question if the practice is sustainable, as [the farms] rely on below-market-price (free) labor. It cannot exist in the long-term, as each arrangement is temporary,” Bovay said. 

Supporting small-scale organic agriculture is a trade-off decision: a consumer must consider whether it is more important to preserve their own financial position or to contribute to local economies. Many decisions are price-contingent. The very concept of consuming organic products represents a difficult choice. Should I save money, or save the environment? Where WWOOF matters is enabling people to make this decision by supplying them with the information, and developing the agricultural sector of the nation’s economy.

“I would love to see how many WWOOF volunteers have gone on to start farms. It could have a major long-term impact in terms of education. Education is the only way to distinguish between the credible and the pseudoscience,” Bovay said. Wandering through the organization’s many sites could expand the network of small-business farms. It must be a catalyst for cultural and educational exchange, increasing knowledge through experience and social connection, for the organization’s existence to prove helpful on the macro level. 

New York State’s Hudson Valley region illustrates the potential for WWOOF’s impact on the individual, sparking larger-scale change and connection. 

Liberty

The word liberty takes on several meanings on a property in Highland, New York. The aptly-named “Liberty View” Farm is “beyond organic,” generating produce free from pesticides, hormones, carcinogens, and other nutrient-harming toxins- with tighter regulations than an organically-certified farm. Travelers seeking liberty from their ordinary lives, in-between phases or careers and lost on their path of self-discovery may reside on the estate - free from rent. 

Liberty View represents an alliance of small businesses, namely independent farms battling for liberty from corporate price controls. 

Billiam van Roestenberg, the 53-year old owner, has fought for liberty in his own life. In 2004, after years of activism, he and his partner Jeffrey McGowan were among the first gay couples to be married in New York State. Peace Park, located in the nearby village of New Paltz, held the ceremonies. A friend and fellow activist to van Roestenberg, mayor Jason West definitely stood against the rest of the nation and the state to commission the ceremonies; legally-recognized same-sex marriages in the state of New York did not arrive until the Marriage Equality Act of 2011. 

Van Roestenberg purchased Liberty View in 1998, originally intending for it to serve as a serene weekend house. The excessive effort and upkeep required to maintain the land, as well as the striking beauty of the region, convinced him to convert to full-time farmer. 

Manhattan-born and architecture-raised, it took time, education, and a yearning for proximity to nature for him to transform into a farming adept. “I enjoy working with nature, and being outside and learning to grow healthy and nutrient-dense food. I was and still am a vegetarian and strive to eat healthy. It was a hobby that became a full-time vocation,” van Roestenberg said.

Behind the enormous weeping willow drooping over van Roestenberg’s house, thousands of apple trees stand in echelon. Dedication to beyond organic practices entails strenuous labor and meticulous care. By hand, tree by tree, he and his crew remove insalubrious limbs and rotted fruits every spring. These survivors of the fall harvest and algid winter months are nicknamed “mummies.” Their death and subsequent preservation create horror, as they transform into mold and attack the living tree.  Early in the summer, thinning, the removal of certain plants to create sufficient room for a productive growing season, must commence. 

“A conventional farmer will achieve this using hormones. We don’t have an arsenal to combat diseases, insects, and other plagues. We have limited resources so in this way planting is much more difficult,” van Roestenberg said, reassuringly adding “but I don’t want people to die of cancer. I don’t want to pollute our environment. It’s much more healthy this way.” Without chemical assistance, this lengthy and arduous task cannot be carried out by the architect alone. 

Two years ago Liberty View Farm began accepting WWOOF volunteers. Liberty View has structured labor with an emphasis on education. Volunteers from all over the United States, Great Britain, France, South Africa, Latin America and elsewhere work in the fields for thirty-three hours a week down to the minute. 

Their host, a veteran of twenty years of farming experience, instructs on every facet of the industry, from the intricacies of seeding, transplanting, and animal husbandry to the vital bookkeeping and marketing side. 

“Some people think they can just come and  do 45 minutes of volunteer work and relax the rest of the week. It isn’t a vacation. I instill good work habits and there is a real exchange. Someone works for me and I teach them, both the farming and the business aspect. It is a two-way street.” 

Volunteers learn not just the work ethic of rural occupation, but also of the professional world. Liberty view frequently hosts corporate events, high-profile photoshoots, and eight to ten weddings each year. A large chalkboard sign in a wooden shed behind the greenhouse reads “ Zukrills Wedding- Alcohol! Because no great party ever started with eating a salad!” Multiple income streams help keep Liberty View afloat regardless of weather conditions. 

Thirty to fifty thousand pounds of food are brought each year from Liberty View farm by its WWOOFers to People’s Place, the largest food pantry in Ulster County (whose board of directors is headed by van Roestenberg). Through service outreach, local community events, and the simple experience of group living - with the luxury of separate bedrooms - WWOOF volunteers become incredibly close with each other and with their host. 

“I try to help them figure out their life as well. They help me and the community projects I am working on. Last year I paid for one of my WWOOFers to go back to school. He was very intelligent and was forced to drop out of college. I got him a car, and he went to Ulster County Community College,” van Roestenberg said. 

Some grow so fond of their agri-mentor, they return after their designated stay ends. One volunteer, a 25 year old from Dallas, returned twice.

Harmony

In the stead of a full-fledged farm stood a row of scrubby runtish blueberry bushes. Promises of an authentic pastoral adventure fell short for the Texan Terrence Shipp at his first WWOOF stop. He seeded future shrubs by hand with the care of Charlie Brown decorating his humble sapling for the owner of the Michigan homestead. 

This was not what Shipp was expecting, but in a sense, “was a good place to start”. Dreams of corralling livestock across wide fields were not yet realized. This basic gardening work was just enough to turn shoes brown and his thumbs green. It had already been four weeks since he had crossed the lone star border, and the thought of turning back hadn’t entered his mind for a second.

“Many windows closed for me at home. I finished school, a long relationship ended, I couldn’t get an apartment. I had to travel,” Shipp said. He embarked for Kansas City in February of 2018, and moved on to Chicago after two weeks.  An urban nomadic life was not financially sustainable with no income, so he turned to the rural. His friends traveled through Peru with the Workaway program, a cousin organization to WWOOF. 

Shipp drew his route with intention, designing a cultural tour of the Northeast United States. His method of cartographical planning was less blindly hurling darts at a map, more scrutinously stretching yarn across tacks. Nearly every two weeks he moved to a different farm, stopping in Cincinnati and Athens, Ohio; Cleona, Pennsylvania; High Falls, Ithaca, and Highland, New York; currently in Providence, Rhode Island.  He upped his time on each farm to a month, spending a long stretch in New York. 

The road Shipp is traveling is not aimless, he has a clear destination. The French-Canadian province of Quebec serves as his trek’s terminus. Like the mouth of a river spilling its contents into the infinite expanse of the sea, his errant travels leave premeditated action at the provincial limits. “I’ll stay up there as long as I can.”

Shipp’s month-long residency in Southern Pennsylvania starkly contrasted anything preceding it. For a month he slept under the stars in a svelte one-man teepee in the southern reaches of Amish country. His slumber was frequently disturbed by the early-dawn rustling of curious chickens; free-range means free reign to rise sleeping guests for breakfast. 

Morning walks comprised of deep contemplation provoked by his physical orientation. His teepee stood equidistant from two diametrically-opposed factions of the agricultural world. On one side of the teepee sat a small organic garden lining one side of an estate constructed in the 1820s. On the other, loomed a goliath stretch of monocropped corn. The methods of the WWOOF host emphasized renewable farming techniques specializing in soil sustainability. The methods of corn field owner demonstrated a value of economic efficiency at the cost of soil ecology. 

“I had this EUREKA moment while confronting this duality. I got to watch things come alive, this profound oneness of everything breathing in and out. ‘From the deepest of soils to the furthest of stars, everything breathes together.’” Referencing Alan Chadwick, a new-age horticulturist and philosopher, Shipp found the cathartic experience he was searching for.

He spent just short of a month through the summer there building trellises and caring for the chickens. His hosts taught him integral survival skills for living out in the woods, foraging being his proudest acquired skill. He moved on to Liberty View farm in High Falls after that to transplant vegetables and aid with the fall harvest. His host, von Roestenberg, had to improvise with assigning responsibilities. A disease plagued the orchard all summer decimating the apples, the focal point of produce at Liberty View. Shipp plucked hundreds of defunct fruits in September. 

“Organic isn’t as widespread as I would like, I wish the public knew more about the process,” he said. Most of what he learned was through physical action, but von Roestenberg’s emphasis on educating his volunteers lent Shipp a wealth of knowledge in areas like soil regeneration. 

This process rebuilds degraded matter in the soil, lowering carbon emissions in the process. The plethora of living organisms residing within any given area of soil, known as biodiversity, can be kept at a high level through regenerative agriculture techniques. Living species increase the nutrients available for plant development exponentially, benefitting the quality of the produce. More traditional techniques destroy the land and the soil, rendering it useless.

A world without arable topsoil is a world without food. 

Present rates of soil depletion will cause a massive epidemic within fifty years. Regenerative agriculture, an eco-warrior’s dream plan of attack, concurrently combats global warming and world hunger, as well as hundreds of health-related issues by preserving key minerals in the vegetation. 

“No-till” is a particular regenerative technique that leaves the soil bed as-is and untouched. No hoeing, picking, raking, shoveling, or even walking over it. The contents of the soil remain entirely undisturbed. This particular method was embraced and taught at one of the New York farms Shipp volunteered on, by a uniquely tender and holistic host.

Geniality

Dense fog along curving mountain trails mark the path to Clove Valley CSA. The voyage takes travelers just past the tourist-pleasing Mohonk Mountain House near the artist haven of New Paltz, NY. Hilly back roads lead to High Falls, a quaint Hamlet featuring a few art galleries, a few grocery stores, and a lot of land. Clove Valley takes advantage of the fertile plains of the Ulster slice of the Hudson Valley to grow organic vegetables. 

The snaking dirt road arches toward the heavens like a Gaian parabola. Vibrant yellow signs warn drivers to diminish their speed below fifteen miles-per-hour at each curve. On the incline approaching the crest, before the Mohonk landmark has been passed, eager travelers behind the wheel do not heed this warning. Girthy Suburbans and other large vehicles piloted by carefree and caffeine-fueled sight-seers veer around turns like speeding tugboats venturing up dangerously shallow waters with excessive haste. 

At the apex of the hill, they depart. They came for he landmark and its view, one treasure within the Hudson Valley’s deep trove. Those that remain on the trail have further business with the mountain. They are either inhabitants of rural High Falls,  members of New York’s agrarian sub-culture, or they have come from afar with firm purpose. There are more pain-free routes to traverse west and north; few take the mountain pass without specific intent.  

The first time Aileah Kvashay made the drive, she came from afar. A two-year “vision quest to find [herself], or something along those lines”, ended here. 

Post-undergrad, she felt restless, like many in her position. WWOOF lured her into their program like many other, with the promise of exotic locales and free beds. In 2005 she took the temporary vocation of nomad, first pursuing the tropics. Hawaii’s white sands and clear waters cleansed her palette of the mundane in Pennsylvania. 

The urge to engage in new cultures was not quenched by her first act of volunteer work in the islands after a few weeks, leading her to farms in Hungary, Germany, and Norway. This alternate Grand Tour of Europe granted her cultural insight into the lives of the serfs rather than the lords. She gleaned a great deal of knowledge from her month-long tenure on a Norwegian animal farm called Camphill. 

Her responsibilities were simple, trivial, and routine. Pull weeds. Feed the animals. Clean around the house. Repair the fence if it gets damaged by livestock. Assist the host in planting and harvesting. The fundamentals of organic farming were instilled in her, as she observed the healing abilities the tranquil lifestyle possessed. 

On her return to the United States, she maintained a desire to continue traveling, but knew it was soon time to settle. Another motive: balance a moderate distance from familial home with close access to a major city and availability of secondary education.

Kvashay made the drive up the mountain pass of Ulster County, New York not to gaze upon the glorious lookout, but to reach labor at a farm on the other side. Toby Stover, owner of one of the many farms in the region, was offering a spot. The fit was natural, the work was peaceful, and the school of Suny New Paltz presented a unique opportunity to attain a coveted Masters degree. She received a lease from the owner to manage the farm. 

For nine years, Kvashay has made the drive over the mountain as a resident, one lieutenant of Coppard’s army of small-time farmers leading the revolt against goliath agricultural corporations. She opened up her quarters to WWOOFers without a moment’s hesitation.

Upon arrival at Kvashay’s Clove Valley CSA, volunteers are greeted with sights characteristic of local ragtag rebel farms; the science of agriculture is more of an art here. Thin driveways riddled with rotund gullies attack the tires on low-suspension cars. Hand-painted signs say “SLOW PLEASE” “CAREFUL” “WELCOME”. 

The ivory-white facade of the arching gray-roofed farmhouse, one of several places volunteers sleep, sets a plain rustic vibe- a subtle, authentic, non-HGTV version of a rustic aesthetic. Adjacent stands a silo adorned with a mosaic of autumn-harvest-colored tiles, with long-dead ivy winding toward the dome that tops it. Before it are two more signs “PARK AROUND BACK” and “NO DOGS OFF LEASH”, with an emerald-green felt chair laying on its side. The greenhouse to the left is sheltered by translucent tarp and thin two-by-four wood beams. A few dilapidated sheds surround a small area for parking in the back. Vast land surrounds this sole complex of structures. 

Inside the farmhouse a stone stove warms the main room, connected to a kitchen and two tight rooms with mattresses, without a door in sight. One bedroom is partitioned by a wall, and the other by an oriental paper room divider. The core of the room is a large wooden table, bent in the middle and near collapse, where the coterie of volunteers gather four times a week to break bread together. Chinese lanterns hang above a dozen clay men encircling a singular candle, appearing as a fertility offering. A miniature djembe drum, a folded massage table, a black-and-white poster of Marilyn Monroe, illustrated copies of the Hobbit and the Silmarillion, desk-sized books instructing mountain biking, bee-keeping, and vegetarian cooking, and a photograph of a shirtless bearded lumberjack posing with stacks of logs serve as interior decoration for the communal living space. WWOOFers reside here, outside in teepees or on tent platforms, in RV’s if they utilize them for transportation, and in the lot’s former pottery studio- one of the sheds. 

“People are enthusiastic- I make the schedule very clear. Some farmers tell their volunteers ‘Eh, go out for four hours, do whatever.’ I manage the sessions of weeding, harvesting, irrigation work, greenhouse care...it’s more engaging to work together as a team,” Kvashay said. Although she maintains a general structure, every day is different. The farm is itself an organism, consistently alive and ever-changing. Even the minutia affects the whole. 

Clove Valley produces curly, dino, and Russian kales, chard, broccoli, mustard greens, beets, parsely, spinach, twelve varieties of tomatoes and peppers, eggplants, melons, squashes, and Bok Choy, as well as an array perennial flowers, herbs, and tea plants. Some WWOOFers have remained for nearly 2 years, breaking during the short winter months while the farm lay dormant. 

Unlike most WWOOF hosts, Kvashay has no minimum duration of stay: a suit from a marketing firm in Manhattan can blow off steam by gardening upstate for a day and a night, with a warm bed and a home-cooked meal at no cost- and they have. Hudson Valley denizens brave and curious enough to travel past Mohonk, emerging farmers, and even personal friends of Kvashay’s are welcome to stay as long as they are comfortable. Many are first-time WWOOFers, many are below the age of 30, and many have an interest in ethical sourcing. The demographic consistencies of Clove Valley volunteers end there, with countries of origin remaining the greatest variable. 

Endurance is another point of discrepancy; while most volunteers work for the agreed-upon time, it is not uncommon for them to depart prematurely. Some cannot acclimate to rural mores. Others deteriorate from umbilical dependence on phone and internet service, often absent at Clove Valley. In rare cases, some volunteer with sinister intention. One couple stole an iPod, the source of joint entertainment, and fled. Others have attempted to support drug habits living away from home free of charge. “I’ve even had people who had a hard time eating only fresh produce without pre packaged processed snacks.”

Generous efforts exceed Kvashay’s expectations of her workers frequently. One WWOOFer spent the respite period in between the four structured portions of weekly labor “reclaiming” neglected areas of land and plots of soil to create beautifully lush gardens. A Chilean volunteer taught her traditional latin guitar along with his native tongue, a vital communicative skill for a frequent host of Spanish travelers. The intimate community facilitated at Clove Valley has converted visitors into permanently emigrate to the Hudson Valley. Many of her volunteers have grown to become her best friends. Cooperation and support is bountiful within the network of independent organic farmers in neighboring counties. “A significant aspect of the experience is to see people transform, change, come alive, find their passions, experience the world in a new light,” Kvashay said.

Those seeking a change with subservient openness to foreign expise often belong to the art world. Musicians, artists, and writers compose a substantial portion of the Clove Valley volunteer community. Immersion in the lifestyle of Clove Valley illumined one particular artist’s conceptual identity.

Eureka- Ingenuity

“We were fixing this old shed that had been an outhouse over thirty years ago. In fixing it up I found a toilet seat made out of wood, with a hole cut right in the middle, coated in cobwebs. It had been sitting there for I don’t know how long. We dusted it off, and I painted it. I wanted it to be as happy as possible, so I painted a sunflower on it, with the middle of the flower being the hole,” reminisced Sam Leibert, a young artist from Massachusetts. 

On the cedar latrine cover was left with just enough room for more than the flower. A word or exclamation, perhaps. He recruited the creative help of his fellow volunteers. One day, while they drudged in the fields, sun beating down and sweat cascading down their faces, someone had it. Eureka! “It became a running gag where if someone had to go use the [bathroom] during the day, we would say they needed to experience a Eureka moment.”

The eight-by-eight shed presented the cheery lid like a flower in a vase. With shelving space and more, work with the outhouse wasn’t finished. It was begging to be used by something. On a brief reprieve from volunteering at Clove Valley, a hiking trip in the Catskill mountains with fellow artist Amanda Wong inspired the solution. Clove Valley CSA Presents: the Eureka! Outhouse and Gallery, a space for emerging artists to hold exhibitions in conjunction with events on the farm. An authentic Eureka moment. 

“It mirrors WWOOF in many ways. Bringing in people from outside communities in order to build new ones, super low-stress, all about having fun and learning and experimenting. There is a constant ebbing flow coming in and out of Clove.” 

An artist from New Orleans, Leibert’s prior farming experience was minimal. Returning to Clove Valley to live and work for lengthy magnitudes of time is an indefinite part of his existence.  The power to connect and triangulate communities is at the core of the WWOOF experience, and its most important product. 

A blend of free-thinking graduates, working creatives, and veteran professionals seeking new passion commune. They break bread together. The create together. They toil together. At Clove, they unite in the mornings for five minutes of meditation, ceased at the sound of a makeshift gong- a pitchfork and a rusted shovel. They go into market in Woodstock on Wednesdays, witnessing the reach of their individual efforts. Leibert was astounded at the number of people that traversed great distances just to see Kvashay. Hundreds of independent farmers in New York conference with each other, assisting through tips and cross-marketing.

Sustainable practices are instilled from volunteering, learning, and cohabitating with organic farmers. Those inspired to start farming enter the workforce with a nearly free education. 

 As one student in the art of ethical agriculture migrates to a new community, they bring with them experience and insight. This travels with them into new professional and social communities, potentially influencing consumer decision and ecological awareness. The potential scope of this educational ripple effect is enormous. 

“This changed my trajectory in many different ways. [What I learned], I carry it with me. You begin to understand how everything is connected,” Leibert said.

“And organic- it just makes sense.”