Where the Wild Things Are

A croc lurks near the jetty and kookaburras laugh in the trees at this Kawau Island hideaway.

As the reel busy hammers into another wave, my captain shouts that on a good day the crossing to his Kawau Island bach takes 20 minutes. This is not a good day. Beyond the shelter of Sandspit, Kawau Bay is what Nick and Shirley Cressey describe as 'a little bit choppy' and what I would describe as 'a rodeo'. The boat is a bucking bronco.

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