Flying in, I see it. Not the hulking green mass of Norfolk Island, which looks like a dairy farm plonked in the middle of the ocean, but its smaller sibling six kilometres to the south, a rugged, uninhabited (except by thousands of seabirds) red-earth island that's been called "the Uluru of the Pacific".
It's called Phillip Island, and getting there involves a mini-expedition that starts with a short, often rough boat trip from Norfolk; you then have to leap ashore onto slippery, wave-sloshed rocks and scramble up ladders and ropes to reach the island's higher, drier slopes.
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On my first visit to Norfolk a few years ago, the weather had been against me. This time I've got three days to make it happen. Not that there aren't other outdoorsy things to do while I wait.