We are a couple of months short of celebrating the boat's eighth birthday and eight years of liveaboard cruising. For almost all of that time the pattern has been very similar: winter spent sailing across an ocean, island hopping, seeking out remote areas and unfamiliar cultures followed by a summer spent somewhere safe from cyclones/hurricanes, carrying out maintenance/repairs, and provisioning for the next foray into the unknown.

Not surprisingly, when we set off cruising, our mindset tends to be one of having everything on board we might possibly need and the boat secured and safe to take on a lengthy passage. It is always an exciting time, but tinged with some tension - crossing oceans should not be taken lightly. Also the easy familiarity with sailing life, the absolute confidence in yourself, and the yacht that builds up during extended cruising has dulled in the months that you have spent secured to a marina berth. It is always with some trepidation then that we face the beginning of a new cruise.

Departing Brisbane, the boat was overflowing with provisions and everything had been checked and checked again. Somehow we had not quite come to terms with the fact that this was merely a coastal cruise, day sailing from one secure harbour to another (albeit a one thousand mile cruise from Brisbane to the Torres Straits in just over four months). From the marina to our first night's anchorage tucked into Moreton Bay was a three-hour sail in protected waters. Our next epic voyage was 50 miles to Mooloolaba, which of course is bristling with shops and restaurants so it is unlikely that we'd starve even had we left Brisbane with no provisions. All this was in sharp contrast to last year's departure from New Zealand for a 1200-mile sail to Vav'au in Tonga.

However, although our next passage was also only 50 miles it did demand to be taken more seriously. We planned to cross Wide Bay Bar and sail through the Sandy Straits, inside Fraser Island. The local Queensland Transport chart cautioned:
Crossing Wide Bay Bar should not be attempted without local knowledge. Call Tin Can Bay Coastguard for current conditions.
We called Tin Can Bay coastguard. "It's a wall of white water" we were told.We left it a few days and called again, same answer.The wind had been 20 knots or more on both occasions but as soon as it dropped to 15 knots we shook off the lines in Mooloolaba and headed determinedly for Fraser Island.

The wind was as forecast, 15 knots from the southeast, so we were confident we would be able to cross, but wanted to leave it until at least half tide, which was at 1600 hours. So we trickled along under main and mizzen only. Around midday the first of a flotilla of yachts called the coastguard on the VHF. Conditions on the bar were again reported to be an unbroken line of white water!

The tide was still ebbing so we pressed on in the hope that when the tide changed conditions on the bar would improve, and they did. We had a relatively smooth passage across the bar four hours later.

Once inside there are endless cruising possibilities, though deep keeled craft need to pass some areas at high water. Fraser Island is the largest sand island in the world and supports prolific wild life. There are beautiful fresh water lakes and long white beaches.

The highpoint for us in this area has been the Mary River and twenty miles upriver the town of Maryborough. Once a major port, Maryborough is now a lovingly restored country town with a street market once a week and alamplight bazaar on Friday evenings.

Between 1880 and 1900, 20,000 immigrants arrived in Maryborough and many Australians can trace their heritage back to those immigrants. The Customs House, Court House and many other buildings are open to visitors and offer a fascinating glimpse into the past. And while we wandered ashore, THETA VOLANTIS rested secure on a mooring.

The river bank provided us with daily entertainment as the cockatoos squabbled with rainbow loriqeets and black swans called by on the off chance we would have some bread to spare. We woke in the mornings to the sound of a bull bellowing in the field beside our mooring and each evening we watched aheron hunt for its supper. One morning we even had fog on the river, something we hadn't experience since we left the UK eight years ago.

This was not at all the type of cruising we are accustomed to, but in its own way it is just as delightful as a more adventurous itinerary.