Stephanie Pastula-Ramadier's Island Home

22 Oct 2025

When Stephanie Pastula-Ramadier first flew into wild Truwana/Cape Barren Island, a 20-minute flight from Tasmania, she knew it would become home.

As soon as you see the island out the plane win­dow,” she says, you think – how can I come back here?” 

Now, three years lat­er, Stephanie splits her time between Bicheno on Tasmania’s east coast and this small, iso­lat­ed com­mu­ni­ty of about 100 peo­ple, where she’s found pur­pose, chal­lenge, and deep con­nec­tion as the community’s Clin­i­cal Nurse Spe­cial­ist. The clin­ic she works in sits with­in view of Strz­elec­ki Moun­tain on neigh­bour­ing Flinders Island. 

It’s a spec­tac­u­lar set­ting,” she says, but it’s the com­mu­ni­ty and the work that make it so special.” 

It is an hon­our to come over here and I feel incred­i­bly lucky. Like any kind of remote area nurs­ing, your whole world expands in a way it nev­er would otherwise.”

One of the most sig­nif­i­cant devel­op­ments Stephanie has wit­nessed is the cre­ation of the first Abo­rig­i­nal and/​or Tor­res Strait Islander Health Work­er role with­in Tasmania’s state health sys­tem – right here on the island. 

In the NT, WA and SA, Abo­rig­i­nal and/​or Tor­res Strait Islander Health Work­ers are instru­men­tal in the clin­ics. They’re not just part of the team – they’re the ones who make our pres­ence appro­pri­ate and cul­tur­al­ly safe. It val­i­dates the whole mod­el of care.” 

It’s tak­en until 2022 to begin that jour­ney in Tas­ma­nia, and I feel incred­i­bly lucky to be part of it.”

Stephanie’s pas­sion for sup­port­ing the devel­op­ment of this role is clear. 

It’s still evolv­ing, but it’s vital. The island now has three per­ma­nent Abo­rig­i­nal and/​or Tor­res Strait Islander Health Work­ers and two casu­als. I want to be an ally in that progress. It’s one of the most impor­tant things I can do.” 

Stephanie’s path to remote nurs­ing was shaped 15 years ago when she joined WA Coun­try Health Ser­vice (WACHS) rota­tion­al programme. 

I realised how var­ied nurs­ing was in remote com­mu­ni­ties. And with the hur­dles of lim­it­ed access to resources and oth­er health pro­fes­sion­als, it makes you more cre­ative, you’re not just a cog in the hos­pi­tal machine.” 

I love being chal­lenged and pushed to the max­i­mum of my scope as a nurse, and it is deeply sat­is­fy­ing. You feel like you’re actu­al­ly mak­ing a difference. 

That expe­ri­ence changed every­thing,” she says. 

Ter­tiary care has its place, but it’s the last page in the book. I’m more inter­est­ed in pri­ma­ry health – keep­ing peo­ple well, pick­ing up issues ear­ly, before some­one ends up in emer­gency with a heart attack. 

Some­one might come in with ear­ly dia­betes and not real­ly under­stand the risks. But if you can work with them, if they want to engage, you can change the whole tra­jec­to­ry. That’s the most sat­is­fy­ing part for me.”

On return­ing to Tas­ma­nia from WA, Stephanie embarked on more study to give her­self the skills she felt she need­ed for remote nurs­ing. At the Roy­al Hobart Hos­pi­tal, she under­took the Crit­i­cal Care course, and fol­lowed up with post­grad­u­ate stud­ies in Inter­na­tion­al Health, with a strong focus on Indige­nous health; Mater­nal and Child Health, and Emer­gency Nursing. 

Before that first vis­it to Cape Bar­ren Island three years ago, when she filled in at the clin­ic on a casu­al basis, Stephanie had spent time vol­un­teer­ing over­seas and on remote sail­ing trips and work­ing with the nation­al locum assis­tance pro­gramme, Rur­al LAP, with stints in remote loca­tions through­out Australia. 

This is the first time I’ve lived with­in a com­mu­ni­ty for a long peri­od of time, and I love being part of the com­mu­ni­ty,” says Stephanie. 

I take my dog around to people’s homes, have yarns over­look­ing the beach, vis­it the school to chat with mums. When you’ve been here a while, peo­ple know you. You’re not just the clin­ic nurse – you’re part of their world. 

The ladies here are amaz­ing. They make kelp bas­kets and long shell neck­laces. Shells are treat­ed and stripped back and look like moth­erof-pearl. We have a lot of fun.” 

Stephanie’s com­mit­ment to upskilling hasn’t stopped, and CRANAplus has played a key role in that.

The AREC course is a great crash course that refresh­es you for those emer­gency pre­sen­ta­tions and advanced skills,” she says.

And as a non-mid­wife, the MEC was an absolute life­saver for me. When some­one walks into the clin­ic and says, I’m hav­ing my baby,’ you need to be ready. 

I’ve thanked the CRANAplus edu­ca­tion mid­wives a thou­sand times. The skills they gave me were essen­tial – and they made sure I could be calm and capa­ble when it mattered.” 

As a mem­ber of the CRANAplus Clin­i­cian Round­table, Stephanie has also found pro­fes­sion­al sol­i­dar­i­ty and inspiration. 

It’s a priv­i­lege to be part of some­thing that con­nects nurs­es across remote Aus­tralia. This island is incred­i­bly iso­lat­ed, and yet through the Round­table, I’m in con­ver­sa­tion with peo­ple work­ing in Arn­hem Land, the Kim­ber­ley, Cape York. It reminds you that you’re part of some­thing bigger.” 

Look­ing back, Stephanie says remote nurs­ing has expand­ed her world in ways she nev­er imagined. 

It’s not always easy – but you leave every week changed, and come back ready again.” 

And each time I see the island from the plane win­dow, I feel that same pull all over again.”

CRANAplus Round­ta­bles con­nect health pro­fes­sion­als in sim­i­lar cir­cum­stances and facil­i­tate com­mu­ni­ca­tion between the work­force and our organ­i­sa­tion. View cur­rent oppor­tu­ni­ties here.