To be honest, it was quite scary at first. At first, I ventured out onto the water cautiously for a few short test runs. Step by step, I then went out in stronger winds and rougher seas. In this way, I developed a better and better feel for the boat and realised under which conditions it could be steered best.
For example, I use sails made from old tarpaulins that I cut to size. Alternatively, I also have an outboard motor. However, most of the time I sail before the wind - partly because the centreboards don't really work. So I wait for the wind to push me in the right direction - and then I set off.
It's a very slow boat. On average, I travel at two and a half to three knots. My record was 5.6 knots. However, I probably had two knots of current.
The strongest conditions I've ever sailed in were almost 50 knots and five to seven metres of sea. That night, I was afraid of being smashed against the cliffs in the south of Tasmania. Thanks to the outboard motor, I was just able to keep clear. That took the wind out of my sails for the time being. However, I learnt my limits better as a result.
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Originally, I wanted to convert a ferry that had been decommissioned by the state with space for around a hundred vehicles into an island with a restaurant, bar and seminar rooms. I would have offered coaching courses there, which I used to give professionally. But the government turned me down and had the ferry scrapped.
I complained to my father. But he just said: "Why don't you build your innovation island out of waste from fish farms? There's enough of that." For him it was a casual remark - for me it was the start of the project.
First I got a buoy from an old oyster farm from an acquaintance, then I asked others for usable marine litter and started searching along the coast myself. Step by step, new paths opened up and more and more material turned up.
It was a process; I had to try out a lot. It also took patience: three steps forward, two steps back. I found materials from fish or mussel farms, fishing or sports boats. They had never been put together before.
The problem was that I couldn't find any nuts, screws, nails or straps. Initially, I lashed the individual parts together with ropes that I found. But the worst thing would have been for these straps to come loose and the boat to fall apart in a storm. Eventually I came up with the idea of fitting the tubes together.
No, nothing like that. That wouldn't have worked either, because I work with unknown materials and unknown quantities.
I had to play around with the materials until I had the feeling that they formed a structure that floats on the sea.
It helped that I had already done a lot of sailing and surfing before. So I knew how powerful the ocean is and what the boat has to withstand.
I planned with three months. In the end, it took two years. Fortunately, the owner of the land on which I was building the boat was on my side. There was a small lake there where I could test whether my constructions floated. For weeks, I stood in the chest-deep water for hours, connecting oyster racks together. It took several attempts before I found a shape that gave me confidence. Eventually it became a raft with a pointed nose.
Then it was moored for even longer and I had to build the cabin, fit the outboard motor and sails and install the electrics.
I have a 200-watt solar panel and a 120 Ah lithium battery on board - enough for the radio, occasional phone and laptop charging and interior lighting. A new addition is Starlink, as there is no mobile phone coverage in Bass Strait and parts of the Victorian waters to receive weather data. I also use a small drill, a toolbox, a 12V fridge and have surfboards with me.
Yes, I love experiencing the ocean and going surfing. Understanding the ocean and how it works plays a big role. I utilise the currents, tides and winds. Knowing this is crucial for the safety of my trip.
Before the project, I was already aware of environmental pollution and species extinction, but it was somehow distant to me. It was only when the project started and I spent a lot of time walking along the coast and collecting marine litter that I realised how victimised and powerless I felt. I decided to take responsibility and actively do something. I am convinced that if we all stand up for nature a little more, change can happen.
Some thought I was crazy and predicted that I would fail. Others, on the other hand, believed I could do it right from the start - provided I chose the right conditions. I was aware of this broad spectrum of reactions right from the start. Nevertheless, I am focussed on my mission. I believe that we will achieve what we put our focus on.
I have learnt to stand on my own two feet and prioritise. Before the night of the storm, when I was almost smashed against the cliffs of southern Tasmania, I was even more concerned about what others thought of me. Afterwards, I knew that my safety and that of my boat must always come first.
I have also learnt to live with little money. Money hardly plays a role in my life anymore, especially as it causes so much damage worldwide. Today, I know how to live an extraordinary life with few resources - and that it's important to ask for what you need. I used to find this difficult, but the project has taught me exactly that.
I have managed to turn a vision into reality - something that some people cannot imagine.
From here, I'm travelling on towards Sydney. I don't yet know when I'll get there - or what will happen afterwards. For me, the whole thing is a kind of spiritual journey. The Aborigines call it "going on a journey" - a search for oneself. I might not reach Sydney, and that would be fine too. Another idea is to get the marine rubbish boat ashore there, attach wheels and pull it on a line to the Parliament in Canberra. I'll see what happens.