On the way back from Broome heading to Darwin I asked the team leader if it would be ok to drop me off in Katherine, much to his astonishment we stopped off for coffee and said our farewells, after travelling, sleeping and living out of each others pockets it felt a shame to be moving on, but a new chapter had to be started.. Katherine is the fourth largest town in the northern territory around 300km south east of Darwin. It's known as the crossroads of the north, when driving from western to eastern states you have to pass through the town. It's also known for its natural beauty, hot springs and regional work, mainly mangos and watermelons are picked here, in the months of October to December backpackers flock to the farms looking to extend their visa and line their wallets with hard earned cash while battling though 40 degree heat and 100% humidity. A common side effect of the work is called mango madness where workers who are not climatised, temporally lose their mind.

As I entered the front gates of coco's hostel into a dusty courtyard, I heard the sounds of the didgeridoo mixed with a special sort of whaling/singing, hard to describe but kind of resembled the sound of someone speaking in tongue. The owner "coco" employees a few talented indigenous, to paint art work on large canvas and didgeridoos. He spoke of how the art is shipped to Luxembourg and sold for thousands which is fair enough, however after hearing a story of how one of the employees felt obligated to split his money with family (common among aboriginals) which was then wasted, caused the artist to be paid with food, smokes and spending money which made me question the managers integrity. But as they say different courses for different horses...
The general feel of the hostel was relaxed, chickens ran free around the grounds, much to the dismay of people living in tents, who would be woken every morning to the male call of cock-a-doodle-doo, later that week the c*** was hunted down by a mob of dreary eyed backpackers, pleased to say he managed to avoid the frying pan for now.. We managed to score an air-conditioned room shared with a Australian, Italian and a Russian and waited on a phone call from a farmer who indicated a month earlier there may be work available.
Four or five days later still no call so followed it up and told there wasn't any work for a least another two weeks, so I handed out a few CV's an made some enquiries. I was offered a job in a pub doing 60 hours a week but stuck to my original plan of completing my regional work.
What I thought would be a stop over job at a horse farm, free board and food in exchange for labour, while waiting for the work to start, but as usual plans change.. Soon as I met Tom and his family and did a few days work, I knew this would suit just fine for the remaining days of the first year. Plus last week a new member of the team arrived, so when its time to relax with a beer or go to town i have some good company. Vlad's from Slovakia, a lot of people think he's from Kazakhstan, but he looks nothing like Borat.. must have been the mustosh. The farm is situated 5 minutes out of town, complete with spa pool, bar and pool table. Set in a beautiful location surrounded by mango plantations and open fields. The main work carried out on the farm is breaking in horses, sent to the farm from all areas of the Northern territory, Tom has done this for 15 years and the way its done is humane and safe both for the horseman and the horse. I'm told most who take this role last from two - four years and after that injuries incurred during this time cause them to look for other lines of work. So if I decided to take this up as a future career path I would have the opportunity to learn from one of the the best. Daily tasks include tending to the cows, dogs and horses making sure they're all fed. Keep the electric fence in working order or trying and generally maintain the grounds. Last week with the help of Adrian (local legend) we put together a vegetable garden, I was given the job of grinding down the excess steel from the boarders.. While concentrating on the task in hand I failed to notice a spark fly on to a hay bale behind me, the smell of smoke was the first indication something was wrong so glancing around in my peripheral I noticed.. Fire... Fire! Shouting while running to the sprinkler and disconnecting, I sprinted back to the scorching hay bale an looked down to realise the hose had stopped running.. Luckily an hour before a ton of sand was dropped off next to that exact spot so I frantically threw sand towards the areas which were starting to spread though the dry grass.. All this happened in seconds and before I knew it Tom and his brother were there fighting the flames beside me, that moment of madness showed exactly how important it is to be cautious when dealing with fire in the dry season.. And hay for that matter.
Other than fire fighting, my favourite job is walking the dogs, feel like Ceser Milan, ten dogs following me around while riding up and down on a quad bike.. This job will grant a second year, so the story will continue.. It's been eleven months since I arrived in Australia, I doubt a lot of people back home thought I'd survive this long, come to think about it neither did I.