Once the biggest condensed milk plant in the world, in its final weeks the place that has brought employment and memories to thousands of workers over the years is an echo of the past.

Machinery sits still, warehouses are cavernous, workers and produce are sparse.

"It echoes," warehouse supervisor Shane Rudezky said this week standing near a final truckload of milk powder in a warehouse designed to house 3000 pallets.

He is among about 70 workers who will see Fonterra turn off the lights this month when it shuts the site.

The dairy giant announced in May plans to close the ageing facilities as a declining milk pool reduced the plant's output.

Since then, some of the 98 workers that were employed there have found new jobs or chosen to retire.

But there are those who say they are "too young" for retirement and are worried for their futures.

Others simply just want to keep working.

For this tight-knit workforce, it's the friendships they say they'll miss most.

IN the tea room where workers play cards and stir each other at lunch, four workers calculate they have a combined 160 years at the factory.

The site has employed Gary Palmer for 40 years. Before him, his father worked there for 42 years.

It's not the first time the factory store person has heard his job would disappear.

He recalled when Nestle, the former 98-year owner of the site, told staff the plant could fold before Fonterra bought it in 2005.

"Fonterra came along and saved the joint and gave us another 14 years," Mr Palmer said.

But for the 56-year-old, he wished it had lasted at least another decade.

"If I got another 10 years I'd be smiling. I'd be able to retire. I'm just that much too short," he said.

Mr Palmer said another "big blow" hit a month ago when his partner's supermarket job was made redundant.

Fonterra last month hosted a jobs fair at the factory to connect workers with potential employers but Mr Palmer said "most didn't have vacancies at that time".

"People are finding jobs, but most of them are younger than me," he said.

"I'd like to find a job similar to what I'm doing now. I don't want to leave Warrnambool I have too many ties here.

"I'm worried without being stressed."

Mr Palmer said above all he didn't want to lose touch with colleagues and friends.

"Past experience shows when (Nestle) shut the coffee plant, you didn't see them if you didn't move in the same circle. Some of them I'd worked with all my life," he said.

Lawrence Thomas has worked at the factory for 42 years, most recently driving forklifts and trucks.

His father also worked at the factory and suggested Lawrence apply for work in the late 1970s when he was laid off from Foodworks in Koroit.

Mr Thomas' fondest memories include finishing early on Fridays to play cricket in the aisles in the Nestle factory "tin shop" where he manufactured coffee tins. The coffee side of the business closed in 2000.

"Everywhere I go seems to shut. I have seen it slowly decline," he said of his former roles.

"But I can't say a bad word about the place, I have enjoyed it while I've been here."

Mr Thomas now plans to retire. "I am one of the lucky ones," he said. "I feel sorry for the younger blokes who have families.

"I will be sad about it on the final day. Everybody will.

"You are going to miss your work mates, you won't see them every day like you do now.

"Hopefully we will be able to keep it going, we will have a beer and catch up."

Shirley Noonan began work in 1976 and recalled when the factory had separate dining rooms for women and men.

"When I started here there was about 1000 people. There were a lot of girls then," Ms Noonan said. "There's not many of us here now."

She said women at the factory in her time had the opportunity to "work wherever we wanted to work".

"We could try different jobs," Ms Noonan said. "I have liked working here, I will miss the people. Otherwise I wouldn't have stuck it out if I didn't like it."

In Kevin O'Keeffe's 40 years at the site, the lunch breaks have given him a smile.

"Lunchtimes have been hilarious some days ... it's absolutely the best place you can be," he said.

Drinking powdered milk mixture from a shot glass, the quality assurance co-ordinator explained his palate could pick when the product's flavour and texture was even slightly wrong.

"You become accustomed to it, it's like tasting wine," he said.

Mr O'Keeffe said he felt uneasy about what life after the factory would bring.

"That was the biggest problem, what are you going to do day after day?" he said.

THE factory might be closing its doors for good, but there is one festive tradition that will live on.

Workers will muster Santa Claus to visit Warrnambool Base Hospital this Christmas Day to deliver gifts to patients, a tradition started during the Great Depression.

With the tradition having lasted 89 years, worker Phil Parkes said he couldn't "be the one who says 'I'm not doing it'".

"Not until you get up there do you realise how much the patients and the hospital staff appreciate the hospital cheer, of someone getting up there and showing that they care," Mr Parkes said.

"It's something we've been very passionate about and it's very rewarding."

Mr Parkes' skills have kept him operating the site's wastewater treatment plant until the last day. He is hopeful a buyer for the site could continue using the treatment plant and re-employ him.

"It's up to whoever wants to take it over, if they can see it's something they need in their process," Mr Parkes said.

While Mr Parkes said he'd miss the people he worked with, it was the prospect of losing the factory that saddened him.

"It's just the identity of the factory, the fact Dennington will lose something that's pretty much iconic," he said.

AS the final load of milk powder was trucked from the factory this week, workers' thoughts turned to what their last day would be like.

Standing in what was a busy hub of activity, warehouse supervisor Shane Rudezky reflected on how the now empty factory was symbolic of what the last day could feel like.

"That's the feeling we are going to have as we walk out, the emptiness," he said.

But he hoped it wouldn't be the last time the site produced something.

"Manufacturing is a dying art and we need manufacturing in Australia. Especially to give non-skilled people jobs," the supervisor of 31 years said.

"We have been part of the history of Dennington and we're hoping it will continue on as something."

He said that if there was anything that would help them overcome the sight of the factory sitting idle when they knocked off for the last time, it was the perseverance he'd seen in his workmates.

"I know it's going to be a struggle for the people 50 years and above to get a job," Mr Rudezky said. "They haven't thrown in the towel. They are coming to work and completing that work.

"It's because everyone has worked together for so long.

"They are going to leave here proud."

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