Out in the streams of the Pacific Ocean, the weather can change on the head of a pin, and a wily tour operator has plans, rather than schedules. No sooner had we tossed our bags through the guest-house door, than we were clambering onto a charter vessel taking a dozen of us the 6 kms down the lagoon, and then another 23 kms through open waters to Ball's Pyramid, the eroded remnant of a long-gone volcanic island which rises 551m above sea-level.
Both the light and the peace were magical. Shearwaters dipped and waved around and across our bow. Masked Boobys kept pace as we ploughed through the swell. Petrels soared magnificently overhead riding whe upper atmosphere. Eventually the sated camera finger was stilled. The camera of the mind's eye whirred on.
Follow my Lord Howe Island escape on Hither & thither as from today.