78th Brisbane to Gladstone Yacht Race | 3–4 April 2026

Story by Anton Prange

The Brisbane to Gladstone is a Queensland institution, much like XXXX Gold, sunburn, and spending your Easter weekend getting comprehensively hosed by the ocean. As the fleet gathered at Shorncliffe for the traditional Good Friday start, the forecast promised a classic “drag race” fuelled by relentless 20–25 knot south-easterly trades. For the crew of Yachtshare Ignition, a Sun Fast 3300 entered in the Two-Handed division, the race would quickly transform from a high-speed reach into a definitive test of seamanship, physical grit, and questionable life choices.

The initial exit from Moreton Bay was a pedestrian and uneventful affair. With the breeze still building and the sea state relatively manageable, the afternoon was marked by a distinct lack of drama—essentially the ocean’s way of lulling the boys into a false sense of security before turning the whole trip entirely pear-shaped.

The Human Override (The Robot Chucks a Sickie)

The intensity shifted as the trades settled into a rhythmic, 25-knot roar shortly after clearing the NW Fairway Marker. On a high-performance scow-bow like the Sun Fast 3300, the autopilot is typically the “third crew member.” However, as the following seas built to three metres, the electronic helm took one look at the conditions, spat the dummy, and clocked off for a 30-hour smoko.

The boat was surfing so aggressively—darting and loading up as it caught the faces of the waves—that the processor simply could not keep up. It wasn’t a mechanical failure; the conditions had just outpaced the electronics. Realising their digital mate had completely abandoned them to avoid a catastrophic broach, Anton Prange and Ian Richardson made a grim, silent pact: “Yeah, nah, looks like we’re hand-steering the whole 308 nautical miles.”

Surfing the Trades

As the sun set on Good Friday, the 33-footer transformed from a show pony into a bucking bronco. Helming in these conditions is a high-stakes game of absolute concentration; one wrong twitch of the wrist as the bow digs in, and the boat trips over its own shoulder. For thirty gruelling hours, the pair cycled through exhausting shifts, their muscles burning as they caught wave after wave, sustained-planing at 15+ knots under the full moon along the Queensland coast while quietly questioning why they didn’t just stay home and eat chocolate eggs.

Chaos in “The Paddock”

The true test arrived between Waddy Point and Lady Elliot Island—the infamous “Paddock.” While screaming downwind, the tackline cover stripped inside the jammer. The line surged, the tack blew out, and the boat loaded up into a massive, violent broach.

By the time the crew recovered the boat, they found an absolute dog’s breakfast on the foredeck: the slack, lengthened tackline had allowed the spinnaker to wrap itself into a very tight, very expensive “hourglass” around the forestay, eventually fouling the masthead halyards. Their primary downwind weapon was now just a giant, useless sock tied in knots at the top of the rig.

Refusing to throw in the towel, Anton went on the deck while Ian kept the boat moving under the mainsail to avoid running into Breaksea Spit. Oscillating in 3-metre seas, Anton spent over three hours clearing the tangled cat’s-cradle of fouled halyards, sheets, and spinnaker silk. It was a painstaking, surgical recovery performed entirely from the deck while taking countless waves to the face. By the time they finally rounded Lady Elliot, the tack line was replaced, the spinnaker untwisted, the sheets rerun, and some six hours after the initial incident, the spinnaker was back in the air. Ignition was fully lit again.

The Final Toll (The Autopilot Chooses Violence)

But the ocean wasn’t finished, and neither was the boat’s electrical system. Four hours from the S2 Fairway buoy, the electronics added a highly offensive twist to the physical struggle. The autopilot, which had done sweet bugger-all for two straight days, suddenly woke up, engaged, and locked the tiller without warning.

While reaching across the saloon to turn off the rogue electrics and regain manual control, Ian was caught off guard as the boat lurched. He was launched across the cabin, his hip striking a stainless steel handhold with a thud. It was a crushing fall, adding a medical emergency to an already exhausted crew. With Ian injured and Anton effectively single-handing a boat that still refused to be tamed by its own mutinous systems, the pair faced their final hurdle.

The Finish

On the final approach to Gladstone Harbour, the team faced one last daunting problem: how to drop a spinnaker in 30 knots of breeze with no autopilot, one broken crew member, and another determined to reach the finish line before the yacht club called last drinks—the most terrifying threat of the entire race.

After a rapid exchange of ideas, a mammoth effort saw the spinnaker finally wrestled into the boat after several attempts. Avoiding commercial shipping, sandbanks, and navigation aids, the two-handed crew quickly established an effective procedure for gybing the boat under extreme duress through Gladstone Harbour. Ignition made the final march up the harbour to cross the line at 20:42:12 on Saturday, 4 April 2026.

The Aftermath

Both crew members returned to the dock with the inevitable bumps and bruises of a heavy-air race, but the true cost only became clear once the adrenaline subsided. It was only on Tuesday, after returning to Brisbane, that a trip to the hospital revealed the extent of the damage: Ian had sustained an L1 lumbar compression fracture. Turns out, he literally broke his back carrying the team. That they managed to execute a heavy-weather spinnaker drop and a tactical finish in such a state is a sobering reminder of the absolute stubbornness required to compete at this level.

With an elapsed time of 1 day, 9 hours, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds, they were rewarded with:

1st on Two-Handed (Line Honours, IRC, and PHS)

2nd in Division 2 (IRC and PHS)

4th IRC Overall

5th PHS Overall

These results serve as a definitive mark of tenacity—the hard-earned prize for a Two-handed crew who met every hurdle with relentless effort, an unbreakable resolve, and a powerful thirst that simply had to be quenched before the bar closed.