I ask Martin why he named it Maybes? His reply is deadpan: “maybe you’ll live, maybe you won’t.” There’s a left-hander out the back called Lucky Larry’s. Across the channel there’s a towable behemoth right-hander called Creepy Kevin’s. Out front is a playful bommie called Walker World and not another person in sight. For some, it might be heaven. (Or Nirvana). But first the crossing. The excitement of our new surroundings soon wears thin, the serenity and tropical scenery give way to green faces and some serious reverse peristalsis. Those with experience hunker down in their bunks and try to sleep, hook up to iPods or watch movies. Others crave fresh air and a view of the horizon, but the endless pitch and roll combined with the smell of diesel is sadly far from palliative. Martin of course says we’re all a bunch of sissies. But when the swell hits, he’ll be proven very wrong.