Imagine drifting across the Pacific Ocean for six months with nothing but logs beneath your feet, strangers at your side, and the vast sky overhead. No rescue boat. No social media. No certainty you’d ever make it back to civilization. Just twelve men, one wild expedition, and the infinite rhythm of waves.
In a world increasingly shaped by instant connection and polished content, filmmaker and wildlife biologist Dr. Chadden Hunter returns to something raw, real, and reverent. His new documentary, The Raftsmen, follows a true story that took place in 1973, wherein twelve misfits from seven countries united on an explorer’s crazy dream. Their aim? To cross the world’s largest ocean on three handmade wooden rafts with only the stars and sun to guide them. Battling storms, sharks, and psychological demons, their epic six-month journey at sea remains the world’s longest ever raft expedition.
It’s not just a story of survival — it’s a time capsule of human spirit, unity, and the kind of adventure we’ve almost forgotten how to seek. So Honi sat down with Dr. Hunter ahead of the Sydney Film Festival to unpack the soul of the film, the mystique of its leader, and what it really means to belong to the ocean.
Kiah: What drew you to the story of The Raftsmen? What was it about this journey that felt urgent or necessary to tell now?
Dr. Chadden Hunter: Yeah, well, it’s a very interesting story, how I found it. You probably saw it in the press kit. There’s a description of how my wife found this raft in this tin shed in Ballina. It’s a very strange place. If you go there, the tin shed is in this weird shape because it’s built over the top of the raft. That was an obscure thing to find, this old log structure in there,and reading the plaque, it’s an interesting piece of history.
But what really excited me was reading that they had filmed it on 16-millimeter cameras. And that, for me, felt unusual because you think of these great adventures or expeditions, like the first people to climb Mount Everest or the first people to get to the South Pole — almost all of those adventures have been done by many people since —they were never filmed. So A) they were never filmed, and B) no one has done them since.
So here was this story that not only had never been bettered in 50 years, but still held the world record for the world’s longest raft journey. I found that remarkable.
As a filmmaker, when I read that they had 16-millimeter cameras on board, that triggered a light bulb for me — because I know that old film can be rescanned and remastered quite beautifully. Old video footage, on the other hand, is really hard to work with because it looks really yucky. But, old films can actually look quite beautiful.
That was the big inspiration. It was going to be exactly 50 years since they did the journey. They did it in 1973, so 2023 marked the 50th anniversary. Still, the record stood.
I thought, If I could find that film, I wonder if there is a really beautiful retelling to be made. Nobody had heard of the story — it was kind of long gone.
But, the other reason I was inspired to bring the story to a younger generation is that it was a rare example of an expedition you could never do now. There’s a complete peace and tranquility to what those guys did,bobbing around on the ocean with no company, no communication. You think about it: no logos, no social media. If that expedition were done today, they’d be covered in Red Bull logos, with daily Instagram feeds, and people tracking their every move.
So I think for me, the reflection on the difference between now and 50 years ago was a really nice thing to bring to a younger audience, to show them a more peaceful time.
K: It’s true, their primary motive to embark on this phenomenal expedition is to experience the true meaning behind adventure and to be one with nature, which brings me to my next question. The film explores themes of unity, survival, and the ocean as both a force of a spiritual presence. How did you approach visually and emotionally translating those themes?
CH: I wanted this film to go deeper than just the raw adventure, which we’d be able to see. The story is carried by the interviews with the surviving raftsmen, so a lot of my work in telling it — or pulling out those themes — relied on what I could get from these 80-year-old men.
I made a decision early on not to have a narrator, so everything had to come from them. That meant sitting in their homes, talking to wives, daughters, loved ones, and really diving into the meaning of the journey. Ask: What did sea mean to you? What does it mean now? You could see their minds turning, like they hadn’t been asked those kinds of questions in years. It brought out deeper levels of emotion in them.
We wanted the ocean to feel like a character in the film as much as we could. When [interviewees]talked about its personality, its beauty and the fact that they were so close to this incredible force of nature, we could see that they felt quite humble — we gave those moments space. We used shots of waves, of the ocean, the Pacific itself, to let that poetry breathe.
It came through both the interviews and the visuals, giving their reflections a space to live emotionally and cinematically.
K: Did you shoot new footage for the film, especially the wide, open ocean scenes? I saw that some of the shots were not filmy so I’m assuming they were shot recently.
CH: Yes, especially the open ocean and aerials. What the guys on the rafts couldn’t do was convey a sense of scale; they were stuck on small rafts with little cameras. I didn’t mind using new footage we shot because when they’re talking about something as general as the ocean or the Pacific, it made sense to give viewers a proper visual sense of scale.
So yes, there’s a mixture of specially shot ocean footage to help bring their descriptions to life — things they couldn’t capture themselves, being out there on the rafts 50 years ago.
K: It was so beautiful to see that no matter all these years passed by, the emotion, the raw sentiment still remained within them. You could see them tearing down when they spoke about the numerous obstacles they faced on the raft in the open water.
CH: It was completely life-changing. It’s an experience I think many of us would struggle to recreate today — not because we’re less capable, but because we wouldn’t be allowed. For safety reasons, for family concerns, society would probably label it a suicide mission.
You’d have rescue boats, GPS, tracking devices, all sorts of safety protocols. While those are important, they also prevent you from testing yourself in the same way. To push yourself to the absolute limits of what’s possible in nature; that’s rare now.
It’s not for everyone. It’s tough, demanding. But 50 years ago, such adventures were more accessible. Now, unless you go to war, it’s hard to find a situation where you’re truly tested by the natural world. That’s largely due to how our society now operates — everything’s controlled, supervised, safe.
That’s what makes their journey so extraordinary.
K: The structure blends archival footage with contemporary interviews and new ocean cinematography. How did you balance the past and present in building the film’s narrative?
CH: It was a key decision early on. These men are in their 80s now, and many went on to live fascinating lives after the journey. Some stayed in Australia, some continued sailing, others returned home. People often ask what happened to them after.
But, because we had access to that original footage, I wanted the story to focus solely on the journey itself. I wanted the viewer to feel like they were on the raft, to make it visceral. I wanted you on the edge of your seat, unsure what was going to happen next.
We could have opened with news clippings or told you upfront that they made it, but I chose not to. I wanted their words to carry the film, step by step. That meant building it chronologically — simple, yes, but powerful. It preserved suspense and created an immersive energy.
There was room to do something more stylised, but I wanted it to feel alive. You’re hearing these stories from older men, but I didn’t want it to feel retrospective. I wanted the audience to live the journey with them.
K: That got me thinking — you’ve worked on incredible projects like Planet Earth and Frozen Planet, documenting nature in its rawest form. How did making a human-focused, history-based film like The Raftsmen compare to your previous wildlife and natural world documentaries?
CH: It was a very different exercise. Wildlife filmmaking is more expensive, and there’s a lot more unpredictability. Animals won’t do what the script says — just finding them can take weeks. There’s more risk, more time, and often a bit of luck involved.
With The Raftsmen, the biggest difference was in the foundation. In wildlife films, the base building block is visuals. You capture the most breathtaking images you can — lions, kangaroos, dolphins — and then you shape a story around them with music and narration. The pictures come first.
But, with a human-centered story like The Raftsmen, the building block is words and only words. They’re not written words. They come from the mouths of the people you interview. You can’t script their experiences, only draw them out through conversation.
So, we ended up with hours and hours of transcript, and the film was essentially edited on paper first — a process of combing through everything they said, pulling out the moments that carried emotion, insight, or story momentum. That’s how the structure was built.
It was actually refreshing and enlightening. After years of trying to give animals a human voice, here I was, letting humans tell their own wild story. That shift in perspective really opened up a new kind of storytelling for me.
K: Your background is in both biology and filmmaking. In The Raftsmen, those two worlds seem to collide — especially when the raft becomes its own ecosystem. What was it like witnessing the wildlife they encountered? How did their unfamiliarity with the ocean reflect the time the journey took place?
CH: One of the things I loved about this project was seeing the wildlife through their eyes and hearing their stories. None of them were biologists, of course. So when an animal showed up — whether it was a whale shark or a hammerhead — they’d describe it in this wide-eyed, almost childlike way. For them, it was just, “a big animal,” or “a beautiful thing we saw.” As a biologist, I’d often want to dig deeper — ask what species it was, what the behaviour meant — but for these guys, it was all instinctive, raw, and emotional.
One of my favourite stories came from a night watch. One of the raftsmen described seeing a bioluminescent shape in the water, wider than the raft — five meters or more. This diamond shape came glowing up beneath them. It turned out to be a giant manta ray, and then a second one appeared. He was up on the mast, screaming for the others to wake up, but everyone was asleep. The way he described it was magical. It reminded me of scenes from Life of Pi [with]the luminous ocean, the surreal creatures. We didn’t have the visuals for that moment, but it stayed with me. It captured something so personal and spiritual that it didn’t even need a camera.
What a lot of viewers might not realise is that most of the twelve men on this expedition had barely ever been in the ocean. One told me his only experience of the sea was “from the shore”. That was typical. These were young men, mostly land-based, and this was a time, 50 years ago, when nature documentaries didn’t really exist. David Attenborough hadn’t started. People didn’t grow up seeing these creatures on TV.
Now, even schoolkids can identify a whale shark. Back then, it was a mystery. So, when the guys saw one for the first time, they were stunned. Their reactions were sweet, naive in the best way. They weren’t afraid. They were curious. That sense of wonder, of seeing the natural world without filters or labels, is something we’ve kind of lost. Their stories remind us of what it means to encounter nature for the first time, unmediated by screens or science.
If this is just one of their ocean encounters… What else happened out there?
K: One of the most fascinating figures in the film is Vital, the raft leader. He had this undeniable magnetism, but also a spiritual, even mystical side — including beliefs about extraterrestrial life. How did you approach that dimension of the story without letting it overshadow the expedition itself?
CH: Yeah, that was a tricky one. Vital sadly passed away a few years ago, so we didn’t get to interview him directly, but we did speak with his family, and what’s clear is that everyone absolutely adored him. So we had to be careful and respectful in how we approached that part of his character.
He had a very unique combination of beliefs — spiritual, religious, and yes, even some involving extraterrestrials and advanced species living on Earth. We didn’t really have a visual way to portray much of that, but I did want to bring out his charisma. He had this magnetic energy, and even when his ideas veered into the unusual, people still followed him. He had that rare kind of leadership where others would trust him enough to join an expedition like this.
We tried to weave that aspect in gently, enough for people to get a sense of who he was and what he believed, without it becoming the focus. It was important not to sidetrack from the core adventure, but also to honour how much depth and mystery Vital brought to the group.
Some of the raftsmen themselves had profound spiritual experiences at sea. Being out there for months — tired, worn down, totally vulnerable — it opens your mind. They were immersed in something bigger than themselves. One even described seeing a strange light over the water, something that couldn’t be easily explained. While not everyone believed in UFOs per se, many of them described a connection to a higher presence: God, the universe, something divine. When you’re that isolated and surrounded by the enormity of nature, it’s easy to see how your sense of reality might shift.
K: That’s exactly what I wanted to come to: the film touches on borderlessness, and unity, and the shared essence of being human without any cultural and political barriers separating them. Was it something you consciously wanted to highlight as a statement of the world today?
CH: Yes, absolutely. We wanted the story to feel relevant to modern audiences. The expedition was grounded in an ideology of unity — bringing together people from different nations, cultures, and languages. Vital, the captain, had a rule that no raftsman could join unless they spoke at least three languages. He would sail under white flags, which he saw as a symbol of peace and unity.
It was intentional that the crew came from different backgrounds. The expedition itself became a kind of metaphor for what’s possible when people work together despite their differences. When you look at the state of the world today — the divisions, the culture wars, the constant noise — that message feels especially urgent.
It’s a reminder of what humans can achieve when we put a shared goal ahead of individual differences. That kind of cooperation, that sense of purpose and peace, is something timeless — and something we could really use more of right now.
The Raftsmen is a rare kind of film: one that doesn’t just recount a voyage across the sea, but evokes the deeper tides of what it means to be human. Through poetic visuals and deeply personal interviews, Dr. Chadden Hunter invites audiences into a story about trust, vulnerability, wild belief, and the enduring force of nature. It’s a film that reminds us of a quieter kind of courage — the kind that crosses oceans not with engines or maps, but with stars, instinct, and each other.
From the spiritual magnetism of Vital to the open-hearted awe of twelve young men confronting the unknown, The Raftsmen offers a glimpse into a world that no longer exists, but whose message is more relevant than ever. In a time when division and distraction dominate, this film is a call to unity, presence, and shared purpose.
The Raftsmen premieres at the Sydney Film Festival for two special screenings:
- 12th June at Event Cinemas George Street
- 14th June at Dendy’s Newtown
Don’t miss the opportunity to witness one of the most extraordinary, unscripted voyages ever taken, retold by a filmmaker who has spent his life revealing the wildness within both nature and ourselves.
