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We arrive at Rose Orchard early afternoon - its blisteringly hot, around 35 degrees centigrade and the flies are rampant.

The accommodation for the pickers here is a toilet with an outside campsite. The showers and kitchen area are fed with pumped irrigation water - a combination of chemicals which even the local animals won't drink.

Tom finds Phil, in his digs - a rusty caravan with fly nets that have long since fallen off (which appear to have been replaced with rancid Danish underpants). He's napping with his 'cellmate' in a five foot by ten foot pit which he pays A$35 a week for.

Its hard labour - to earn A$50, he and his comrades have to fill a bin which carries roughly a ton of fruit - up and down ladders they toil in the midday heat, calling "Tractahhh!" from time to time to get the bin moved. We meet a bunch of characters working here.

Phil is delighted to see us, and we insist he joins us in a motel, with a real bed, for a night. He does not waste any time in agreeing - citing 'a real shower' as his prime motivation.

We pitch up at a crumby pub/hotel in Sheperton - and party around a portable CD player and speakers on a minute roof terrace. We coerce Phil into joining us for a couple of days in Melbourne...

Next morning, I take Phil to work. Its the first time I've seen 6.30am without staying up all night for a long time - and quite frankly, its not a pleasant experience bar the sight of a red sunrise.

We return to pick up Phil at midday. Its hot and fly blown again.

During the morning shift, half a dozen pickers including Phil have been sprayed with pesticide inadvertently by the boss' son. Despite assurances that they "should be OK", the decision to leave the orchard has been reached by Phil and most of the others involved.

So the road trip continues - Tom leaves us to rush to Brisbane on a promise the next morning, and Phil joins us for a few adventures on the way to Perth...

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