Maiden Voyage

My sandbank needs to be around twenty meters long, five meters wide and 30 to 40 centimeters deep. That's about 40 cubic meters of sand to move, which is no small task. It takes five dump trucks to bring the sand into the reserve and pile it up on the shore of the lagoon. Heavy equipment exists that could just pump the sand onto the island but that costs money, which is a resource we don't have. I decide instead to use a resource that we do have in abundance: volunteers.

I draw up a design for a raft to cart the sand across, like a giant floating wheelbarrow. I pick up some old plastic drums from a cleaning supplies shop in town and then nail together some wooden struts to form a frame. I start with a prototype. I use only two of the four plastic drums so the prototype is only half the size of the intended vessel. I put the frame together, largely making it up as I go along.

Finally the ship is ready for a test run. Not wanting to risk my precious sand, I instead decide to use the expendable volunteers as my first cargo. Three of us jump on, and I'm careful to choose the lightest volunteers. Since the raft is only half of its intended size it is not overly balanced and there are a few rocky moments. I grab some old water containers and we strap these off the side like an outrigger canoe. The end result is not pretty but it holds.

We paddle out past the reeds and turn to come back again. At this point another volunteer turns up and decides he wants to join the crew. As we pull up near the small wharf to let him on, the three of us all lean to one side at the same time. The raft flips and we go with it. We bob among the lilies trying to gather up the plastic drums and bits of wood as they start to drift away. It's at this point that I learn that lotus lilies, like roses, may have pretty flowers but their thorns are not for show. By the time we've climbed ashore we're all ripped to shreds.

After this obvious success of the prototype I forge ahead with the construction of my masterpiece. The good ship Endeavour is ready to sail. I am reluctant however to christen it in the traditional manner of smashing a bottle of Champaign over the bough; I'm not entirely sure it will withstand the blow.