It welcomes me with warmth, incredible memories and a sense of coming home.

My parents, Colin and Grace Eagles, brought bach number 8 at the Beacon End in 1944, for the large sum of £80. I was born in 1941, so it was a wonderful place for adventures and learning to have fun with very little. It was a lot of money then, as my parents did not own their home and had very little of anything, except a yearning for their children to experience a simple life.

The bach is situated on a point facing the North Shore and City, with a little bay nestled below. It had scrim walls, sand floors, and an open fire place inside to cook on.

The year before, 1943, my parents were invited to stay at McKenzie Bay bach for Easter and totally fell in love with the unique Island. While there, they were told about bach 8, and that the owner, Mr. Mathews, had been drowned while rowing out to let the authorities know he was on the Island.

During the war they used to use Rangitoto as target practice for firing shells from North Head, so advising was a must. The wind came up, and he and a friend were thrown into the sea. His family were not interested in the bach. We stayed there during the Christmas of 1943, and my parents decided to buy the bach.

As there was no water tanks, my father got some wooden barrels, and was able to take them over on the Gut Boat, this boat took the rubbish off ships that came into the harbour and then dumped it between the Lighthouse and Islington Bay. My father was small in statue but strong in body. As they passed the bay he dropped them overboard and he swam ashore pushing them in front of him.

Thus started a long and colorful history, my love affair with the Island, and the little three-roomed corrugated iron bach on a rocky point. I still go there frequently, even though it is getting harder every year due to aching bones at times, but it welcomes me with warmth, incredible memories and a sense of coming home every time I walk down the path and see it again.