The Salty Brothers on Instagram – a succession of visual highlights: the turquoise-blue waters of the Tuamotu Atolls, for example. The water is so clear that you can see the white sand on the seabed from the cockpit. The atolls themselves – so vast that you cannot see to the other end. Not a single other boat in sight. Or the Marquesas – green and lush. Humpback whales in Tonga. Campfires on tropical beaches.
The Salty Brothers are Nicolas Ahlbrecht, Robert Müller and Stephan Radegast – three men from southern Germany who bought a boat in their late 20s and set sail. Their photos and videos capture adventure and romance. However: “We called it a project,” explains Stephan on their return, making it clear that the three of them are no band of dreamers. After all, their three-year journey has also included agonisingly long periods of calm on the high seas, storms and a turbulent world on the news.
The sea is rarely kind to plans that are too rigid. Even on the Atlantic, they narrowly missed the trade winds, drifted westwards for 23 days and arrived in the Caribbean on New Year’s Day. No New Year’s Eve party on the beach; instead, in the anchorage, “it was absolutely dead quiet, because of course everyone was still asleep,” says Robert with a laugh.
In the South Pacific, between Tonga and New Zealand, they are unable to sail away from the low-pressure systems passing through in rapid succession. A front catches them just three days before their arrival, sweeping thunderously across their boat – and carrying them along to Whangarei on its trailing edge amidst glorious sunshine. Things also get rough between the Solomon Islands and Indonesia. Lightning every night, for weeks on end. “When you’re the only high point for miles around and you know roughly what happens if you get struck by lightning …,” says Robert, then trails off. Stephan dryly throws the phrase “lightning psychosis” into the conversation. Robert doesn’t disagree.
The two have known each other since 2010, when they started working together on the project High Seas High School sailed from Hamburg all the way to Central America. This was followed by summers on the Baltic Sea, Atlantic crossings on traditional sailing ships and, finally, in 2019, the decision to sail round the world. Nicolas joined the expedition through a mutual friend. He knows the thousand reasons not to do something: “Clearing out your flat, quitting your job – that’s scary. But a lot of it is all in the mind.” He had hardly any sailing experience at the time, but looking back today he says: “I knew I wouldn’t get a better opportunity. And that’s certainly proved to be true.”
For four years, the three of them prepared for their journey. They drew up savings plans and Excel spreadsheets and reviewed their progress in weekly video conferences. Joint charter trips on the Mediterranean helped them bond as a crew. The long search for the right boat ended in Almerimar, where they found an Elan 434 rather by chance. Four cabins, a good layout, in top condition. They christened it ‘Pepper’.
Because three people living together on a 13-metre boat need to get on well with one another, they even draw up a contract – a sort of prenuptial agreement amongst friends: what happens if someone wants to drop out? What if someone meets a partner? “We tried to discuss potentially very difficult situations in writing beforehand,” says Robert. “Because when it actually happens, you’re emotional and think much less clearly.” Their individual roles in the round-the-world sailing project, however, fall into place naturally: Stephan, as an architect, is the planner; Robert, the photographer, is in charge of images and the boat. And Nico, the gardener and landscape designer, takes charge of the technical aspects, such as the engine and the watermaker.
They set sail in the summer of 2023. More than 15,000 nautical miles along that route – whose colour palette is richly adorned with the brightest hues – lie behind them as they moor in Whangarei, New Zealand, in the spring of 2025. The ‘Pepper’ is moored in the Town Basin Marina, right at the end of a long fjord. It’s chilly. For the first time in a year and a half of wearing shorts and flip-flops, they have to dig out warm clothes from the cupboards again. New Zealand is a special milestone in this project. Their financial plan ends here, but their round-the-world voyage does not. Both were already set in stone when the journey began.
It has been clear, at least since the Pacific, that despite this uncertainty, setting off early was the right decision. For amongst blue-water sailors, they are in the minority: Most of the others are considerably older. “Just look at me. My knee’s shot, my back’s playing up, and I can’t even get into the engine room anymore. I wish I’d done it sooner – just like you lot!” They hear comments like this time and time again.
Nevertheless, by the halfway point, a certain weariness is setting in. “At some point, you’ve seen your hundredth palm-fringed beach,” says Robert. New Zealand – rougher, greener, cooler – is a welcome change. As is the planned break. All three need a break from sailing and life on board. “Travelling in such confined quarters with a group of friends like this is also a challenge that shouldn’t be underestimated,” says Stephan. There were certainly a few tense moments here and there, “but fortunately we never had a proper row,” adds Nicolas, before adding with a little laugh: “Perhaps there just wasn’t enough love.”
In New Zealand, they’re also taking stock of their finances. Like many other sailors, the Salty Brothers maintain their social media channels – no doubt partly with a view to helping to fund their journey. In particular, their Pacific crossing It’s going viral. A video has racked up nearly three million views. Within 30 days, they’ve gained nearly 50,000 new followers. “But we couldn’t make a living from it,” Stephan simply states. Partnerships bring in contributions in kind – a dinghy, ropes, solar panels, electronics. Cash, not so much.
But it involves a lot of work. “You have to think carefully about whether you want to sit at your laptop in the world’s most beautiful places or actually experience them,” Robert sums it up. Stephan recalls the moments when he had to choose: editing videos or a campfire on the beach? “I’d rather have the campfire.” Instead of taking thousands of people along virtually, they prefer to welcome guests on board who can On-board cash box take the pressure off and breathe new life into the seaside flat-share.
For half a year, they go to work and spend time with friends and family. After that, the ship’s coffers are full again, and “we also noticed that we had far more enthusiasm and energy,” says Stephan.
The second half of their journey also takes the Salty Brothers to some dream destinations: Minerva Reef, an atoll in the middle of nowhere in the Pacific, which disappears beneath the surface at high tide. They dive with manta rays in the Yasawas and spend their evenings sitting round a campfire on tropical beaches.
The most beautiful moments, however, have nothing to do with places, but with the People they meet along the way. In Vanuatu, for example, they are helping to build a small yacht club on a remote island. A structure made of driftwood, with no electricity and no running water. The three of them fetch batteries from the capital and install solar panels. On a neighbouring island, a dugout canoe moors alongside their ‘Pepper’ – a Polynesian couple who have come to visit the foreign sailors out of sheer curiosity. They invite them ashore, show them how they live, and offer them fruit from their garden. Four hours of hospitality with no ulterior motive. “Encounters like these,” says Robert, “are what really make a place special.”
At first, however, the openness with which they are welcomed almost everywhere makes them sceptical. “At the start, we always thought: ‘He’s after something’,” says Stephan. “But that just wasn’t the case.” It takes at least a year for them to shake off this mistrust and realise: “If you’re nice to people, they’ll be nice to you too. No matter what country, ethnicity or religion.”
In stark contrast to this is the geopolitical situation at the same time. The Salty Brothers have a decision to make: should they sail through the crisis-ridden Middle East or back to the Mediterranean via the treacherous capes of South Africa? The project plan does not envisage selling the boat whilst there. It does, however, include the direct route through the Red Sea. For the time being, they stick to this plan and sail via Raja Ampat, across Indonesia and on to Thailand, where ‘Pepper’ undergoes a thorough refit. The basic decision has been made, though it is never set in stone. “We assessed the situation and made decisions on a daily basis,” says Stephan. Mile by mile, the plan is turning into a route. By spring, they’ll be in the Maldives.
Back home, their parents and friends are growing increasingly worried. The three of them phone their families, then set off towards the Red Sea. “Of course, they were still worried,” says Stephan quietly. “But they tried to understand our decision.”
As the “Pepper” approaches Djibouti, heightened alert levels are in force across the southern Red Sea. On board, however, the three men feel that the situation is different from what the news reports suggest. “You always think there’s a war on and that cannonballs are flying about,” says Stephan. “But it’s also simply a very large area. At times, our position in the Red Sea was further from Iran than Tehran is from Munich.”
In terms of sailing, however, it turns into a gruelling task: narrow weather windows, hardly any opportunities to stop, and a 30-knot headwind. “I’ve never run so many weather routings as I did there,” says Stephan. “Arriving in Egypt was the most relieving moment of the entire return journey.”
On 13 July 2026, ‘Pepper’ crosses the line that marked her course into the Mediterranean, south of Sardinia, just under three years earlier. More than 30,000 nautical miles lie between them. The three of them give each other a quick hug, take some photos, and that’s it. No fanfare, no fireworks. The water is blue, the wind is blowing, the boat sails on. “It was a massive project with so many experiences,” says Robert, “that you can hardly even imagine it yourself: ‘Right, now we’ve sailed round the world! It’s quite mad.” Nicolas thinks of the solo sailors who cross this line all on their own. “It’s probably not that different at all. It’s just that nothing really happens. You still have to carry on.”
The real finale comes later, in Punat on the Croatian island of Krk, where their families are waiting for them.
A few weeks later, the “Pepper” has already been sold. Robert first took his moped to Lake Ammersee, where he got the urge to do some “proper sailing”, because “that was a completely different kind of sailing to what we’d been doing,” he explains. “I’m taking my home round the world. It doesn’t matter whether you’re really motivated or not – you just set off.” Now he checks the weather app in the morning, sees that the wind’s right and goes sailing for a few hours, just for the exercise, with no plan.
What advice would they give to someone who’s still undecided? “Don’t hesitate for too long, just get started at some point.”
Three years, as they’ve also learnt, is a remarkably short time for a round-the-world sailing trip – too short to be able to stay everywhere you’d like to. “Maybe just set off and see how far you get,” says Stephan. “It doesn’t have to be a round-the-world trip, either.” Nico nods: “The Mediterranean is lovely too.”
In an in-depth interview with YACHT, the Salty Brothers talk about what they miss since returning home, how they came across the ‘Pepper’, and why their fixed plans increasingly turned into ideas as the journey progressed: Three years at sea, a prenuptial agreement, no expectations.
Seven Shades of Blue It tells the story of how Claudia Clawien and Jonathan Buttmann quit their jobs, bought an old sailing yacht and set off on a round-the-world sailing trip with little experience and limited funds. The travelogue highlights the technical and financial difficulties they had to overcome along the way.
Temporary freedom presents twelve round-the-world sailing voyages, reconstructed from interviews with couples, solo sailors and a family. Unlike the personal travelogue *Seven Shades of Blue*, this book allows for a comparison of different choices, boats and routes. The discussions at the end of each chapter provide an insight into experiences with storms, sleep deprivation, tight budgets and the organisation of a long voyage.
Is ‘just setting off’ the right advice, or does sailing round the world require more planning than such retrospective accounts might suggest? Join the discussion and share your views in the comments.

Redakteurin Panorama und Reise