The following days we pushed up around the top of the island toward what are called the Needles, making the most of the calmer weather before committing to the exposed eastern coast. The campsite near the top of the island was one of the best of the trip - completely unexpected how good the camping is all the way around the barrier. Water was plentiful at most stops, though I'd strongly suggest paying closer attention to your water source than I did. At time of writing I am approximately 30 minutes from a toilet at all times and have submitted a poo sample to the doctor to figure out what exactly is going on. I shat myself in the kayak three times in one day. Three. The fish were worth it but maybe boil the water. Flavio continued his reign of terror on the local fish population throughout. Trawling with a big lure as we pulled into a bay one afternoon he somehow landed a massive snapper that must have been surface feeding. Three lines in the boat at all times - a lure, a hook, and bait - the man had a system. Then came the kingfish. Hand line, back of the kayak, out near the top cliffs. First kingfish any of us had seen pulled in that way. Flavio was insufferable for the rest of the day and he had every right to be. Rounding the Needles and opening up to the east coast was where the paddling got serious - a metre and a half to two metres of swell and 25 to 30 km/h of wind as we made our way out to Arid Island. DOC manages the island now and it's slowly returning to native bush. Beautiful sheltered cove, crystal clear water. I got out for a snorkel and you could see for a long way in the kind of way that makes you wonder what's looking back. We'd planned a rest day on Arid Island with some spearfishing off Square Rock but the conditions shut that down, so instead we had one of our biggest days on the water - around 40-45 kilometres into the headwind and swell, lapping the island and taking a beeline across to Medlands Beach where the boys had been promised a brewery and a burger. There was no brewery. There was no burger. There was no shop. There was nothing. We dried our gear in the sun, tried not to talk about food, and kept paddling. The final stretch down the eastern side and around the south was lively - swell rolling, wind blowing, no real opportunity to stop. We pushed through to Sandy Bay for our last proper camp, where Flavio produced a panko-crumbed snapper with ramen that was genuinely one of the better meals of the trip. The man fishes, he cooks, he carries three lines. Remarkable. We completed the full circumnavigation back at Tryphena the next morning, but Bob's ferry logistics had us departing from Port Fitzroy - another 30 kilometres back up the coast. We called into Smokehouse Bay on the way, had pizzas, soaked in the hot tub, and arrived into Port Fitzroy to find the weekly supply ferry had just come in. Twice-monthly groceries, online shopping, everything the island had ordered - and every local down at the wharf watching it arrive like it was Christmas morning. A good reminder of how different life is out there. 142 kilometres, 6 days, more snapper than I can count, one kingfish, a stomach that is still sorting itself out, and five blokes who will absolutely be back. Great Barrier delivered everything we hoped for and then some.