In Part Four Jim takes the boat from St Kilda to Martha’s Cove, through a nasty little squall, for a haul out and to work on the extensive maintenance list.

In Part Three Jim takes the boat from St Kilda to Queenscliff for its annual mechanical service, he introduces us to some of the crew for the adventure and shows us one of Port Phillip’s famous dolphin pods.

This reel covers some of the preparation of Margaret Pearl for the trip. As we were on board recording the footage that follows, I moved a sail bag on the deck which bumped a bucket which knocked over the tripod on which my mobile phone was mounted which fell onto the rail of Margaret Pearl and ejected my mobile phone from its Mount into about 4 m of water in the berth at St Kilda. The whole scene was very reminiscent of the game of mousetrap

It’s July in Melbourne. Middle of winter. I’m my office in the Melbourne CBD trying to make a quid but increasingly thinking about our next adventure on Margaret Pearl. My definition of adventure is “an activity with more than a modicum of uncertainty in the outcome”. Almost any activity can be an adventure if the right mindset is engaged. For me, it’s not always about danger and physical risk. A trip to city by train can be an adventure………The higher the level of uncertainty - the bigger the adventure. And by any measure our 2027 cruise in Margaret Pearl has the makings of a big adventure.

This week we have a chat with Jim Woods about his plans for a trip in 2027 from Hobart to the Louisiades in his beautiful Cray Boat, the MARGARET PEARL. Jim talks about preparing a Bass Strait boat for the tropics, how to manage the fuel supply issues, what keeps him awake at night and why he’s undertaking this great adventure.

First, we needed to decide which boat to use. Neither of us had anything suitable, but we both had many years of experience racing 470’s and were familiar with them. There really wasn’t any great discussion about alternatives. Dad suggested it, and I agreed. 470’s also have the advantage of being easily found with great ex-Olympic class boats lying around in driveways and garages across the country.

With a focus on the surprising, the strange, and the beautiful, we hope to provide an ever-growing cabinet of curiosities for the digital age, a kind of hyperlinked Wunderkammer – an archive of content which truly celebrates the breadth and diversity of our shared cultural commons and the minds that have made it.

The racing was tight and thrilling, even if the give way rules were unclear. Doing about nine knots we wove in and out of the local craft going about their daily business, and by the bottom mark we were coming third. When, on the first beat, the boat sailing just to windward of us shattered its boom sending splinters onto our deck, we moved into second.

I don’t want it to appear that I am in the habit of taking big risks. I never planned to go out in big seas or high winds, but often the wind and sea becomes more than you would desire. At such times your experience, and the capability of the boat must be beyond doubt. But also at such times, fear will be a component, and a good component, for if it is used properly a bit of fear will give anybody the ability to overcome any reasonable challenge.

With the jib sheet in one hand, and spinnaker sheet in the other from the port side, I braced my feet on the starboard gunwale and stood out trapeze style using the sheet as my wire. This alone didn’t provide sufficient leverage to right the boat, so with each passing wave lifting the port side slightly, I bounced my weight to accentuate the effect. It was apparent this was wasn’t sufficient, so I conserved my energy until I saw the wind too added force when the gunwale lifted. The combination of my levered weight bouncing when a large wave arrived, and the sudden strong wind gust, worked, and I walked up the hull as she lifted, and flopped right way up.

The wind began to howl down from the hills, pummelling the sea into frenzied ripples. “George” had his first taste of front line action holding the tiller down while I lunged forward to disarm the rioting mainsail. The jib strained, I pulled her away and we were away. “Sundance” planed, quickly draining out through the bailer whatever water she’d shipped.

It was a little tense but not unpleasant sailing and after a few hours we popped out of the murk to a starlit sky and a building North Easter. We could just lay the Ile Pomegues off Marseille and the 1970’s S&S design began to live up to her reputation as a windward wizard

So we returned to Australia to pack up our lives. The house needed to be rented, a new home had to be found for our beloved dog, immediate family had to be persuaded that what we were doing was not completely crazy, and friends had to be farewelled and encouraged to come and visit.

These days I don’t sail often. I live in London. My career and my group of non-sailing friends take up most of my time. I often pine after cheap Scandi 30ft keel boats on Instagram and imagine a life up a Norwegian fjord, but then I have to rush off to a meeting and a pint of Guinness and my nautical notions fade.  

It cost more money, and took longer to complete, than I could have ever imagined.  That’s a story as old as Job.  At times, I wondered if I would ever escape back to sea.  From Monday to Friday, I’d get up at 5.30 am, row my dory across the river from Dangar Island to Brooklyn, after a quick breakfast, catch the 6.35 am train to work, and get back to my boatshed at 7 pm.   Then I’d have to get up early every Saturday and Sunday, row across the river again, and go to work on Mudshark.

Once, 42 days out of Sydney, while beating painfully to windward off the west coast of New Zealand’s North Island, en route to Nelson, he somewhat outrageously wrote that he was starting to like ocean sailing.  He’d sailed more than 70,000 miles at that point.

As the world becomes more and more risk adverse, and our weekly screen time reports go up and up, perhaps we can be advocates for stepping outside the commonplace and doing things a little differently.

A beautiful thing is the culture of reciprocity, you go into a relationship with people by exchanging gifts. I also like that you are defined by your kinship and relations, not your job title.

She meets a lanky Australian engineer Graeme, with a yen to sail around the world, and together they buy HOPE a traditional wooden gaff-rigged cutter and grab adventure with both hands.

‘The run from Honolulu was a nightmare. In the last weeks of December I battled constant gales. The turbulent sea threatened to smash my boat to pulp. On two occasions the little boat was wallowing more than half full of water. My arms were so tired from constant bailing, I could not raise them above my shoulders. Once again, I strapped myself to the bunk and prayed. Providence has been kind to me.