We've never seen anything like this! | Life aboard our sailboat

Stepping away from familiar waters is rarely a simple calculation of tides, waypoints, and provisioning manifests. Aboard their 1980 Swanson 38, SV Awry, Kieran and Leeann Raftery had already proven the seaworthiness of their classic Australian double-ender across a six-month shakedown cruising north through the Great Sandy Strait. Yet setting a course south toward Tasmania marked an entirely different commitment. For the family behind A Life Awry Sailing, pulling the anchor at Hervey Bay meant steering back into Brisbane to tie up loose ends, say profound goodbyes to friends, and prepare their heavy-displacement cutter for the roaring cold fronts of the Southern Ocean.

Voyaging with two young children—energetic son Jack and toddler Ella—magnifies every logistical challenge and sharpens every tactical margin. Life aboard an 11.58-meter monohull demands relentless discipline, whether stowing weeks of dry provisions into narrow bilge lockers or monitoring squalls bearing down over the radar horizon. Before the crew could look toward Bass Strait, however, they had to navigate a boisterous passage down the Queensland coast, withstand a freak forty-five-knot hailstorm at the marina dock, and face an immediate mechanical emergency the moment their hull slipped back into Moreton Bay.

Running South Under Reefed Canvas to Deception Bay

The passage south from Hervey Bay served as an immediate reminder of how quickly coastal sea states can build. Running before an energetic following swell with the wind gusting near thirty knots, Kieran tucked a double reef into the mainsail and rolled away a substantial portion of the headsail. The Swanson 38’s canoe stern and deep-displacement underwater profile tracked steadily through the quartering chop, regularly accelerating from a comfortable six and a half knots into sustained surfing runs reaching eight to nine knots down the face of incoming crests.

From the cockpit binnacle, the rising sea appeared imposing, with rolling whitecaps climbing well above eye level before sliding smoothly beneath the vessel’s wineglass transom. Down below in the saloon, Leeann worked with the children through an early dinner while Kieran monitored the marine radar display, tracking a convective frontal boundary marching across the coastline. By balancing sail area and timing their transit cleanly, the crew skirted the heaviest squalls and eased Awry into the calm waters of Deception Bay, dropping the hook to rest before threading the shipping channels into Brisbane.

Dockside Realities and Marina Provisioning in Brisbane

Securing alongside the berths at Manly Boat Harbour—home of the Royal Queensland Yacht Squadron—the crew turned their focus toward the exhaustive domestic chores that underpin extended cruising. Provisioning for a family of four heading into remote southern anchorages is an industrial endeavor. Rather than hauling endless sacks across suburban parking lots, Leeann coordinated an online grocery delivery from Coles directly to the marina head, scheduling an early morning delivery window between 6:00 and 8:00 AM on Kieran’s thirty-seventh birthday.

Under the climbing Queensland sun, the cockpit quickly disappeared beneath stacked cardboard cartons, produce crates, and dry goods. With Jack pitching in to inspect packages, the family began the meticulous chore of unboxing, wiping down surfaces, and slotting non-perishables into every available void beneath settees and cabin soles. The physical effort was compounded by oppressive interior heat; the boat’s installed air conditioning unit sat completely disabled. During a previous attempt to cut an auxiliary return airflow duct to the compressor, Kieran had accidentally nicked a copper refrigeration line, venting the refrigerant. With repair costs outside their cruising budget, the crew sweltered through the pack-down, finding grounding in the chaotic, honest rhythm of liveaboard life.

A Forty-Five-Knot Marina Hailstorm Strikes Manly Harbour

Whatever hopes Kieran harbored for a leisurely birthday morning dissolved when an explosive severe thunderstorm swept over Moreton Bay. What began as an ominous wall of dark cumulus rapidly detonated into a violent microburst over the marina basin. Within minutes, the masthead anemometer jumped from fresh breezes to thirty-four knots, spiked through forty, and peaked at forty-five knots of sustained shrieking wind.

Then the sky opened with golf-ball-sized hail. Kieran and Leeann secured the companionway washboards, sheltering inside the cabin with Jack and Ella while icy stones hammered down upon the fiberglass coachroof and decks with deafening ferocity. Kieran gripped the handheld camera to document the deluge while keeping an anxious watch on the acrylic deck hatches and masthead transducer arrays. In a marina packed with moored vessels, falling ice and cross-dock wind loads routinely shatter solar panels and crack gelcoat. When the squall cell finally blew seaward, Awry emerged unscathed, proving among the fortunate few vessels in the harbor to escape structural damage.

Untying the Lines: Bidding Farewell to Six Years Ashore

Brisbane represented far more than a routine provisioning stop for the Raftery family. It was the city they had called home for six years, where they had worked ashore, established close community ties, and raised Jack from infancy while spending a thousand grueling days rebuilding Awry in the boatyard. Walking past the familiar docks, Jack openly vocalized the bittersweet contrast between a conventional house ashore and their small, floating world.

The final fortnight dissolved into a whirlwind of dockside visits with close friends, sharing coffees and heartfelt farewells. While boatyard refit schedules prevented catching up with cruising friends Josh and Marda, longstanding companions Terry and Leslie stood by on the pontoon to cast off their mooring warps. With lines retrieved and coiled on the foredeck, Kieran eased the throttle forward, guiding Awry toward the harbor fuel dock to bunker a couple hundred liters of diesel into the main fuel tanks before pointing the bow out to sea.

Setting Sail into Moreton Bay and an Unscheduled Bilge Alarm

Clearing the outer navigation beacons at Manly Harbour, Awry motored cleanly into the open waters of Moreton Bay. Kieran unfurled the headsail into fifteen knots of steady breeze on the beam, and the heavy Swanson hull immediately settled onto her lines, accelerating smoothly to six knots. Below deck, the emotional gravity of the departure settled over the crew; leaving behind six years of ashore stability to venture south toward the wild waters of Tasmania brought a palpable knot of nervous anticipation.

Any lingering sentimentality was abruptly shattered within minutes of setting sail. From beneath the cabin sole, the piercing, shrill shriek of the high-water bilge alarm echoed through the saloon. In offshore cruising, few sounds command more immediate adrenaline than an unexplained flood alarm. Yet situated within the relatively sheltered confines of Moreton Bay, the crew maintained their composure, acknowledging with wry humor that aboard an ocean-going sailboat, ease is an illusion and vigilance is constant.

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