Sailing on SALT – A Spotlight
There is something wonderfully addictive about life at sea: the salt in your hair, the sunrise after a night watch, and the freedom of taking every day as it comes… weather permitting!
My journey towards this adventure began at Sandringham Yacht Club, where I first met Robyn Ragauskus through the Women in Sailing Development Weekend Program. It was there that Robyn and I spent hours working the spinnaker, hoist and drop, hoist and drop, hoist and drop on the SYC club training Beneteau yachts. After a successful program, I was fortunate enough to be invited to join Robyn and her crew for the Port Phillip Women’s Championship series alongside AWKR in 2025 and 2026, as well as occasionally crewing aboard Bullet for Saturday racing when a position was available.
Since then, Robyn and Eddie have generously shared their passion for sailing, offering ongoing mentorship, support and opportunities to develop and extend my skills. They saw this extended offshore delivery as the perfect opportunity for me to broaden my sailing experience, build confidence and challenge myself in an entirely new environment. Their encouragement and faith in my skills and ability gave me the confidence to take on what would become one of the most challenging and rewarding adventures of my sailing journey.
Throughout July, SALT, a Solaris 50, became our floating home and classroom as we delivered her from Sandringham Yacht Club in Victoria up the east coast of Australia to Hamilton Island in Queensland in preparation for the upcoming Race Weeks at Airlie Beach and Magnetic Island. What began as a four-person crew soon became a very different adventure when an injury during the first week reduced us to three, adding an unexpected layer of challenge and resilience.
Our route carried us north through some of Australia’s most treacherous and spectacular offshore coastal waters, including Port Phillip Heads, Bass Strait, ‘The Paddock’ and the Coral Sea. We stopped at Refuge Cove, Wilsons Promontory, Eden, Sydney, Gladstone, Great Keppel Island, Mackay, Thomas Island and Chalkies Beach before our final arrival at Hamilton Island.
Life on board quickly settled into a rhythm of three hours on watch and three hours off. It sounds manageable on paper. In reality, those few hours off can disappear remarkably quickly when you are trying to sleep while a yacht is rocking and rolling beneath you, the wind is howling outside and someone is inevitably making yet another cup of tea in the galley.
There was another challenge we hadn’t quite anticipated: SALT’s autopilot was temperamental and, for most of the journey, simply couldn’t be relied upon. This meant much more hands-on sailing, plenty of time on the helm and a much deeper connection with the boat, particularly during long passages and overnight watches. Initially frustrating, it became one of the most rewarding aspects of the trip. Standing at the helm in the darkness, feeling the wind and sea through the boat and watching SALT respond to every adjustment created an extraordinary sense of connection and confidence.
For me personally, there was something particularly empowering about that experience. There is a wonderful sense of independence that comes from standing at the helm in the middle of the night, surrounded by literally nothing but the ocean, the stars and the glow of the instruments. Offshore sailing demands competence, resilience and teamwork, all qualities that have nothing to do with gender and everything to do with preparation and trust.
There were no passengers on SALT. Everyone had a job, everyone took a watch and everyone contributed. We earned so much along the way: ocean miles, friendship, confidence, wildlife encounters and stories that would get better every time we told them!
There were glamorous moments too: spectacular sunrises, turquoise water, warm northern evenings, bioluminescence and the freedom of having no timelines or commitments beyond the journey ahead.
There were also the realities: wet-weather gear, layers upon layers, frustrating wind angles, challenging seas, injuries to nurse, fatigue, exhaustion and wild winds that did not give up chasing us! But those imperfect moments became part of the story.
The wildlife provided some of the journey’s most memorable encounters. Dolphins appeared alongside the bow, seemingly delighted to race us. Seals and turtles made unexpected appearances, while whales were a spectacular reminder that we were travelling through one of Australia’s great marine highways. We watched them surface, then disappear into the vastness of the ocean.
Night sailing brought some of the most confronting moments of the journey. On the darkest nights, with no moon and no lights from islands or the coastline, there was no way to tell where the water ended and the sky began. Sometimes there was no visible horizon at all. Everything was simply black. Utterly black.
Navigating in those conditions meant relying almost entirely on the instruments. You trusted the charts, GPS, AIS and the information in front of you, while knowing that the darkness beyond the bow could be hiding anything. The thought of what might be out there, something floating in the water, land you hadn’t seen, or a reef you were getting closer to, could be genuinely frightening.
There were moments when I felt scared by the sheer prospect of it. Standing at the helm, responsible for holding a course through complete darkness, made me realise just how much trust offshore sailing requires. You learn to trust the boat, the instruments, your training and the people around you, even when every instinct is telling you that you would rather be able to see what is ahead.
It was intimidating, but it was also one of the experiences that taught me the most. By the end of the journey, the darkness still demanded respect, but I had learned to be more comfortable in it. I had learned that sometimes confidence doesn’t mean not being scared. Sometimes it simply means acknowledging the fear, checking everything again and continuing to sail.
Night watches brought some of the most memorable moments of the trip. Away from the lights of the coastline, the darkness could be extraordinary. On several nights, the water around SALT came alive with bioluminescence. Tiny flashes of light sparkled in the wake and danced around the hull as the waves broke. Every movement through the water seemed to create its own constellation. Standing on watch in the darkness, surrounded by stars above and glowing water below, was one of those surreal sailing moments that you simply couldn’t have planned, couldn’t capture and is hard to explain.
The weather kept us on our toes. Winter along Australia’s east coast brought changing conditions, strong southerly winds, shifting breezes and some challenging passages. There were days when the sea demanded our full attention and others when the wind settled and SALT slipped effortlessly north.
Throughout the journey, we also knew we weren’t completely on our own. Back home, our wonderful shore crew were keeping a watchful eye on us through MarineTraffic, following our progress as SALT worked her way north. Messages would arrive with hot tips, useful advice, weather observations and, occasionally, a cautionary tale from someone who had been there before.
Knowing that experienced eyes were watching from shore was incredibly reassuring, particularly when we were approaching unfamiliar waters or weighing up the next weather window. Their support became an important part of our team, even though they were hundreds of kilometres away.
As we travelled further into Queensland, the transformation was remarkable. The cold and rain of Melbourne’s bitter winter gradually gave way to warmer air, tropical islands and increasingly brilliant blue water. By the time we reached the Whitsundays, it was difficult to believe that just a few weeks earlier we had been leaving Sandringham.
After nearly four weeks at sea, arriving at our destination was both exhilarating and strangely emotional. We had navigated more than 1,000 nautical miles, managed changing weather, adapted to life with three crew, steered SALT through the night and learned to trust ourselves and each other.
But an adventure like this doesn’t happen in isolation. I am incredibly grateful to my family and young children for supporting me and giving me the opportunity to step away from everyday life and take on such an extraordinary challenge. Their encouragement made the adventure possible, and every sunrise and sunset at sea was made even more special knowing they were cheering me on from home.
I am equally grateful to Ian, SALT’s owner, for entrusting us with his beautiful yacht and giving me the opportunity to experience such an incredible delivery. I am especially grateful to our skippers, Eddie and Robyn, for their generous knowledge, calm patience and leadership, and perhaps most importantly, for their faith in my skills and ability. Their trust gave me the confidence to step up, take responsibility and push myself further than I might have otherwise. And to my crewmate Tia, thank you for the friendship, humour, music, teamwork and countless moments we shared along the way.
There is something special about the friendships forged at sea. Long watches, tired conversations, shared meals, challenging conditions, glowing waves and spectacular wildlife encounters create a bond that is difficult to replicate anywhere else.
For sailors, it is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t felt it. You never quite know what the ocean is going to throw at you. You just learn to work together, trim the sails, hold the course and enjoy the ride. Once you’ve experienced the freedom, the challenge and the sheer beauty of being out there, you understand.
The sea is always calling…
Lara Schendzielorz
