It's January 26. Sam McLennan arrives unannounced at the door of long-time Tasman Peninsula resident Barry Hinton and knocks, there to ask for help on an ambitious project.
"He kind of shocked me a bit cause I was in the bath and I thought he was the meter reader," Barry recalls, laughing.
"I was having a conversation with a nearby resident," Sam remembers.
"He told me, 'There's this gentleman up the road, I think his name is Bluey (Barry), he lives up this road somewhere and has a range of materials he's collected over the years'."
The material Sam is interested in is a substantial amount of ocean debris that has washed ashore on the coastline of Barry's farm at Nubeena, which he has collected over several decades.
The predominant source is a large fish farm lease just offshore, operated by one of Tasmania's major aquaculture companies, Tassal.
With it, Sam wants to build a raft — which he hopes will be a metaphor for the corporate, political and individual responsibility we all have to protect the marine environment.
This idea is not only ambitious because of the material being used to build it, but because when finished, Sam intends to sail it to Sydney.
"We'll do sea trials to test it out in stronger conditions and on the ocean," he says.
It's mid-May and Sam's raft is well underway.
After their initial meeting, Barry agreed to not only help provide some material to build the raft but generously allow Sam to spend half of each week building it on his property.
"He saw in our initial conversations that I was doing something for the whole community," Sam says.
It's easy to feel overwhelmed by the vastness of Bass Strait, even when sitting in a recliner chair on a clear day's passage on the Spirit of Tasmania.
Walking around the raft as Sam lashes another piece of pipe to it with salvaged rope, the thought of a crossing on it seems daunting.
Sam knows he will be out of his comfort zone, although is not without experience and actually sees this potential journey as harnessing a culmination of lessons he's learnt in life.
"I've got a lot of tangible skills," he says.
"Being in the military, working in construction, having a science degree, working on superyachts, surfing big waves in the ocean and also doing a lot of personal development… it ties all of those past skills together.
Nearby, Barry sits at a desk sketching on a piece of paper in a cabin warmed by a log fire, his dog Brin lies on a bed behind him.
Looking over Barry's shoulder out the window, it's easy to be envious of this patch of dirt he calls home.
Although windy, it's a beautiful day and past the salmon pens and nearby Wedge Island, one can see all the way across to Bruny Island.
Perhaps sensing the wonderment, Barry voluntarily proffers: "People say, 'The world is their oyster'. Well, my oyster is the world."
The former sawmiller has lived in Nubeena for almost 40 years. He is deeply religious, a person who enjoys solitude and is extremely resourceful.
When pressed about why he has helped Sam by allowing him to construct the raft on his farm and provide half of the material to build it, Barry says he felt in his heart that he should "help him out and give it to him".
Examples of Barry's ingenuity to recycle materials, including those that wash up on the beach, can be seen all around his property, from netting garden beds to keep out birds and animals to using pipe sawed in half to protect his timber stairs.
The two men's shared tenet of how to use what we already have is their common ground.
"He [Sam] wants to use what's been wasted. We've got to work out what to do with our waste. If we can work that out then we won't have to make as much stuff."
Sam regularly walks along beaches and collects waste that washes up on the shore.
He films a lot of his discoveries on his phone — rubber bands that help bind crates that oysters grow in will form part of the sail for the raft, found rope will hold it together. Even some of the apparel Sam will wear on the seas has been sourced from the sea.
He sees the reason why he can source so much material from these walks is steeped in accountability or his perception of a lack thereof.
"The corporate organisations are being told to be responsible so that's why the result of cleaning up the waste is ineffective.
"They're not choosing to be responsible, they're not choosing to go out there and find it. They're choosing to do the bare minimum just to tick a box."
With its close proximity to where Sam is building the raft, aquaculture company Tassal is one of the organisations he is referring to.
Tassal counters Sam's claims, saying they are "100 per cent committed to the prevention of marine debris leaving operations and impacting the environment, and retrieving marine debris, which may cause a hazard to navigation, as soon as practically possible."
The company states that they are "ensuring ownership, accountability and transparency in relation to our contribution to marine debris."
Of the debris found as part of weekly shoreline clean-ups, involving "2,700 hours walking 862 kilometres of shoreline" where Tassal operates, 5 per cent is from Tassal, the company says.
Sam calls the raft an "innovation island" and, once complete, hopes it will be a conversation starter about humans' relationship with the marine environment.
His expectations are lofty.
"I'd like other people to continue sailing it after me to different countries so it ignites those same conversations about responsibility," he says.
The process of constructing the raft is a very personal one for Sam, who alludes to a feeling previous projects have sometimes fallen short of his expectations.
Perhaps too much of a focus at the beginning on what the desired outcome would be?
For Sam, there has been purity in building this floating structure.
As for what the raft might help him find in his life, Sam roars with laughter.
"It's finding me. Finding out who I am," he says.
"The only way that can occur for myself, or for anyone, is to really challenge yourself and see what you can become."
