Arid land, cracked earth, and relentlessly mounting costs are all 54-year-old Geelong man, Andrew Crosbie, has endured since taking over his mother’s Winchelsea sheep farm a few years ago. Amid drought, dust and debt, Andrew has remained astoundingly optimistic.

Andrew’s family has farmed in the Barwon region since the 1930s. Despite this farming lineage, Andrew does not identify himself as a farmer.

“ I like to treat it like a job,” Andrew says. “I don’t think it’s my identity.”

When Andrew’s mother, who is now 81, grew too old to manage the Winchelsea property, Andrew felt he “had to do something” and stepped in to keep the farm going. However, this did not come without its adversities.

“I took over the farm when the drought started,” he says. “I haven’t had good years; I’ve only had bad years. It’s been pretty tough.”

Since buying the farm from his mother’s partner,  Andrew has faced his fair share of hardships. The drought has left Andrew balancing livestock managment, constant repairs and stretching money amidst a cost-of-living crisis.

“I did have the windmill die, which meant I didn’t have water in a couple of paddocks, but because I’d destocked, I just left the paddocks empty for a year,” he says. “I finally found enough money to put a solar pump in… when I say I found more money, I borrowed more.”

Andrew says when he took over the farm, all the hay sheds were full. But, after years of drought, they’re now all empty.

“I have to think about getting hay and the cost of that, and no money to do it,” he says.

Rising costs and not much relief in vision have become a familiar sight for farmers in the Barwon region.

“I haven’t had any money for two years. It just doesn’t end. All the costs have gone up, but that’s life,” he says.

“It’s been frustrating. I think I’ve gotten through life thinking things will work out one way or another, and they always have in the past. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not that bad. Because I don’t identify as a farmer, the worst that could happen would be I lose the farm… financially, I’d be better off.”

When asked if he would leave the farm life, Andrew says he doesn’t “have much choice”.

“I could just walk away, but that just leaves mum out there, which I can’t do. Then everything goes to rack and ruin. Thefarm is worth a lot of money, so it’s an asset you have to keep in good nick.”

 Andrew says there is a lack of awareness from the press and the nation about the drought’s the impacts of drought.

“Last year, no one noticed, no one had any idea of what was going on, it was just not on anyone’s radar at all,” he says. “It didn’t rain until July last year, so half the crops failed… We’ve had slightly more rain this year than we had last year to date. But still, we are 200mm short of average.”

It wasn’t until “There were protests in the city,” that the press took notice, Andrew says.

“Before that, there was no story, just a few people in Western Victoria doing it hard. It’s just how it is, it’s how it has always been.

“They will be aware when they can’t eat anymore.”

Although faced with empty sheds, dry land and endless costs piling up, Andrew remains resilient, facing each day with a glass-half-full perspective.

“I’m sure we will get a good year one day.”

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This story is part of a project exploring regional Victoria and the issues farmers are facing. See the whole collection here.