WWOOFING with Wood

Now, let’s be honest, the term WWOOF cracks me up every time. It can be a verb, like “I love to go WWOOFing while I travel,” or even a noun, like “I’m a very serious WWOOFer.” But when I talk about it, people who aren’t familiar with the term usually think I’m talking about some mysterious dog-related kink. Beneath the name lies an alternative way of traveling that’s less about consumption and more about shared knowledge and community. 

WWOOF actually stands for World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms. They describe themselves as a “non-profit movement made up of people who are passionate about sustainability and regenerative farming.” I discovered WWOOFing when I arrived in Canada, completely hooked on traveling but with next to no money in my pocket. I was also really interested in ecological farming and alternative lifestyles. I discovered that there is a WWOOF website for each country, and with a small contribution, you get access to a list of hosts. The idea is to live and work with them, helping out with daily tasks in exchange for food, accommodation, and educational opportunities. No money is exchanged between hosts and WWOOFers. Amazing! That was exactly what I was looking for. 

My first-ever WWOOFing experience was with a close friend of mine. We hitchhiked to a small town in Ontario, Canada, where our host picked us up in her van. We stayed with a family of four. They lived in a yurt connected to a straw bale house they’d built themselves. We were lucky enough to have our own little cabin, which they’d also built, complete with composting toilets and a wood stove. 

I discovered WWOOFing when I arrived in Canada, completely hooked on traveling but with next to no money in my pocket.

Their garden was based on permaculture principles, and they were working toward a fully autonomous homestead. Permaculture, or ‘permanent agriculture’, is about developing systems that mimic natural ecosystems, using methods that conserve resources and regenerate the land. 

The family utilised a First Nations farming technique and had us help prepare the land for a ‘Three Sisters’ crop system: a method, they told us, used by many Indigenous communities where corn, squash, and beans are planted together. These three crops support each other’s growth, leading to better harvests. 

I found that permaculture isn’t just about growing food—it’s about resistance. It’s a way of pushing back against the industrialized systems that have exploited the land for profit. Permaculture seeks to regenerate the earth, but it must contend with a capitalist system where it’s still easier, and often more profitable, to harm the planet. 

On the farm, we also helped care for the animals. They had chickens for eggs, rabbits and pigs which they raised for food, as well as beehives for honey. We spent a lot of time learning how to collect honey, preparing the garden for winter, and making sure the animals were fed. It was pretty hard work! 

My second WWOOFing experience wasn’t as fun. I went with another friend, and we ended up at a woman’s house who was obsessed with fermentation. There were jars everywhere, but also a bunch of rotten fruit she hadn’t gotten around to fermenting. She had a strange relationship with food and didn’t feed us nearly as much as we needed. Of course, putting the rotten fruit in jars was what she wanted us to help with. I still get shivers thinking about the smell... We were supposed to stay for a week but managed to come up with an excuse to leave early and head home. I came to realize that my idealistic view of sustainability didn't always align with reality. 

I found that permaculture isn’t just about growing food—it’s about resistance.

The third experience was a solo one, with a herbalist. It was winter, so there wasn’t much to do, but when I admitted I couldn’t follow a recipe to save my life, she made me cook dinner every day. It was a fun challenge, and I realized it wasn’t as hard as I thought. I learned so much about plants and how that knowledge connects to local traditions, the same traditions that modern wellness culture often borrows from and profits off without acknowledgment. 

My last one took me to a farm in Quebec, lost in the middle of a forest and so close to a wonderful lake that I would go skinny dipping in. Heaven! The hosts were old hippies, passionate about heirloom vegetables, and they had a huge garden filled with rare varieties. There were four other solo WWOOFers on the farm with me. Our main task was to help them prepare for their weekly farmers' market, where we’d sell everything from kale to squash. We spent hours sorting produce and packing everything into their old van. The farmer’s pitch for his tomatoes was so convincing, customers couldn’t resist buying. I’ve never eaten better in my life. 

It was one of my best WWOOFing experiences, but after having done several of these, I did notice the lack of diversity in my hosts. It made me question who gets to live this neo-rural lifestyle. Is this alternative way of life really accessible to everyone, or is it reserved for those with certain privileges? 

After having done several of these, I did notice the lack of diversity in my hosts. It made me question who gets to live this neo-rural lifestyle.

These experiences gave me a small glimpse into rural life in Quebec and Ontario, and they made me reflect on the broader impact of travel. It’s a lot like hitchhiking: you meet locals, hear their stories, and understand their lives on a deeper level. But that deeper connection also makes me question how we, as travelers, engage with the places we visit. How much of it is shaped by the legacy of colonialism? Our modern travel industry is built on patterns of consumption, often overlooking the histories and struggles of the places we visit. We're taught to treat the world as a series of destinations to be checked off, but in doing so, we ignore the lasting impacts of capitalism and colonialism on indigenous peoples, local cultures, and environments. Can we travel in a way that acknowledges these power dynamics, honors the histories, and supports the resilience of the communities we encounter? 

That said, I’ve come to realize that I’m not cut out for farming. A bit of gardening now and then is great, but full-on farming is just not for me. It did turn me into a more conscious traveler, though. I realized that sustainability isn’t just about growing your own food; it’s about growing your awareness of where you stand in the web of histories, people, and lands you move through. 

So while I don’t know if I’ll pursue my dream of WWOOFing all over the world, maybe there’s another way to explore the world. I still highly recommend giving it a try!

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