In the early morning of October 6, 2023, Tom Robinson, 24 years old, found himself alone in the middle of the Pacific Ocean clinging to the overturned hull of his boat, shivering from the cold and completely naked.

He didn't know at the time if anyone would try to rescue him.

The young Australian had left Peru months before on a wooden boat that he had designed and built himself.

His goal was to make the dream he had harbored since he was 14 come true: to become the youngest person to row the Pacific Ocean.

During the journey he explored not only a vast ocean, but his priorities and his ability to overcome fear and uncertainty.

“There was a brief moment when I thought it was all over and that this trip would cost me my life,” Robinson told the BBC.

"And that thought was really distressing. But very soon I changed my perspective...and I started setting small goals for myself."

On the journey, the young man also experienced days of “total peace” and the affection of communities on Pacific islands that welcomed him “with open arms.”

Tom Robinson reflected on the lessons of his journey in conversation with Outlook, a BBC World Service radio programme.

The interview was conducted by journalist Mobeen Azhar.

How did your dream of crossing the Pacific come about?

I grew up on the banks of the Brisbane River, so my entire childhood revolved around that river meandering through the city.

Every day after school, I paddled on the river, fished, lived a very Huckleberry Finn-style childhood and from there arose my passion for boats and the sea.

Every night he read books about sailors, explorers and adventurers. And one morning I woke up very early, looked in the mirror and said to myself: “Tom, you are going to be the youngest person to row the Pacific Ocean, and you are going to build yourself a boat for the crossing.”

From that day on, starting when I was 14, every day I thought about that trip and that adventure.

You also wanted to build the ship yourself to cross the Pacific. Why was this so important?

I think I wanted the biggest challenge possible. I chose the Pacific for several reasons, but one of them was that it is the largest ocean, and crossing the South Pacific is basically the longest ocean rowing crossing you can undertake.

So building the boat became a fundamental part of the trip. That ship was really a part of me. It was my drawings that made it come true. It was my hands that built it.

Ultimately, the whole trip was about expressing myself to the fullest, and building the boat was part of that.

And you named your boat Maiwar, which means “Brisbane River” in the Aboriginal language…

Yes. The design was based on the 18th century whaling ships that went out to the Pacific to hunt whales.

I remember reading a book one night, looking at the plans for those boats, and thinking, “That's just the kind of boat I need for this trip.”

The sea and waves haven't changed in 250 years, so I didn't think the boat had to change either.

How did you mentally prepare for the trip?

I don't know how one can prepare for something like that.

I took certain steps to ensure that when I left Brisbane I wouldn't become homesick.

Obviously my friends and family will always be there. But I tried to cut ties and relationships, just to know that during the trip I could be completely at peace with myself and the world around me, and I wouldn't think that I should be somewhere else for someone else.

You had a girlfriend at the time, right?

Yes. And I suppose that is one of the great tragedies of the trip: that the journey had to take priority over everything else.

I said to myself, “This rowing trip is going to be the most important thing in my life for the next two years or however long it lasts.” And I had to make decisions.

So you broke up with her?

Yes. It was a very difficult conversation, obviously. But we both knew it was going to happen. People asked me, “Will your friends and family come to visit you on the islands along the way?”

And I said, "Absolutely not. The trip begins when I leave Brisbane airport on a plane to Lima and ends when I return to Brisbane."

Any contact with my previous life and my previous world would disrupt how the entire trip would feel. I was totally committed.

I wanted that experience to be definitive, true, pure, and that was the best way to achieve it.

Tell me about the day of departure.

It was July 2, 2022. I will never forget it. It was a strange and surreal day. I went to the local market and bought my bread with pork rinds for breakfast and said goodbye to the market ladies. Then I went to the yacht club and a lot of people started arriving.

He had been in Lima for two months and had made friends, but the entire community came on this special day to say goodbye to the young Australian who was leaving.

There were television cameras everywhere. I looked into the distance and saw a naval music band arriving.

I assumed they were coming to some other event after I left. But the manager of the yacht club winked at me, and the band began playing traditional Peruvian naval songs.

The musicians got into a boat and played music. So I got into my boat, untied the rope, sat down, grabbed both oars, and took the first stroke.

I realized that this was going to be the first of millions. What a feeling!

There were boats around me, the band playing. I was totally focused and started paddling hard. The boat was very heavy, loaded with all the food and water for the trip.

Little by little, the boats began to return to port and there was only one left to accompany me, that of my good friend Gonzalo Rivago, who helped me a lot.

Finally he turned around and it was just me and the sea lions left. That's when I knew the adventure had begun.

During the first 75 days of the trip everything was great happiness.

It's everything you dream of: being on your own boat in the middle of the Pacific, fishing for dinner, living off the ocean.

What happened on day 75?

I left Peru with the intention of making a stop in the Marquesas archipelago, which is part of French Polynesia. It is the first archipelago west of South America, about 3,000 or 4,000 miles (about 6,800 kilometers) from South America.

I was on track to reach those islands in about 100 days. Everything was going very well.

Suddenly, a very strong breeze emerged from the southeast and for days and days that strong wind blew. No matter how hard I tried, I kept drifting further and further north, away from the islands.

I pulled out a huge nautical chart of the Pacific. I scanned it again and again looking for the nearest inhabited island.

It was important to find an inhabited island, because I knew that whichever one it was, I would be stuck there for the next four months during the cyclone season.

Finally I found a small island, Penrhyn, also called Tongareva, which was just a dot on the map.

And suddenly, just like that, the whole trip changed. My goal was that little dot. I had no idea what the people would be like, or what the place would be like, but I kept paddling.

I rowed like crazy, basically, 14 hours a day just to survive, to make sure I got to this island.

Finally, after rowing almost 5,000 nautical miles, on day 160 you were able to see land and a boat full of people approaching…

I felt indescribable joy and euphoria. They were very happy to see me.

They towed me across the lagoon to a small town called Omoka, the largest on the island, with 140 inhabitants and houses made of brick and tin.

They told me: “Tom, you can go ashore now.” I looked at my feet and realized that this was going to be the first step I would take in over 150 days.

The boat is so small you can't walk on it, so I took a huge jump to get off and my feet landed on the hard coral floor.

I felt the warmth of the earth beneath me and it was an extraordinary sensation. I tried to stand up, but I felt very dizzy and walked like a drunken sailor.