They call it glamping because it's camping with an element of luxury. Which means our tent is fitted out with comfy beds, crisp white linen, towels and a selection of hotel-style shampoo, moisturiser, conditioner and apple-scented body wash.
We're also provided with a lantern for when it gets dark and super-comfy fold-up chairs that we immediately set up outside our tent.
But the best thing is the location.
It's absolute waterfront and we're soon relaxing in our chairs enjoying a cold beer from the cafe (you're not allowed to BYO).
Campers can bring a picnic or use the camping ground's excellent barbecue facilities, but we decide to go to the Island Bar for an early dinner.
For a Sunday afternoon the bar is busy, with funky music, a hip young vibe, groups of girls with selfie sticks and a killer view of the Sydney Harbour Bridge.
We share a rocket and smoked salmon pizza - simple, fresh and exceedingly good - washed down with a jug of the cocktail of the day, a yummy citrusy vodka-based concoction called the Able Seaman.
When we're done we find an intimate corner of the island and watch a splendiferous, blazing sunset before setting off to go exploring in the remaining hours of light.
The bar has closed and the revellers have caught the last ferry back.
Apart from the mewling of seagulls and the lapping of waves, silence and serenity reigns.
As we ramble around the sandstone ruins, empty heritage buildings, hand-hewn tunnels and now-silent industrial structures I begin to sense them - the ghosts of Cockatoo Island.
You can't see them but you can feel them all around.
Convicts left for weeks in coffin-like sandstone solitary confinement cells.
Souls who drowned trying to swim to freedom across Sydney Harbour's shark-infested waters.
Little girls locked up in the Biloela Reformatory on a bluff at the top of the island for no crime other than being orphaned or abandoned. Listen carefully and you can almost hear them crying.
It's only when darkness falls and we can no longer see our way that we head back to our tent.
I'm up early the next morning for a run and it could be my own private island.
When I get back my partner has the contents of our breakfast pack - bacon, eggs, sausages - sizzling on the barbie. Buns, butter and jam are laid out.
The day is bright, the harbour is busy and the ghosts have vanished.
We have got just enough time before getting the ferry back to do a self-guided audio tour of the island - just to make sure we have left no corner of Cockatoo Island unexplored.
The combination of natural beauty and layer upon layer of history is what makes a stay at Cockatoo Island so appealing, as well as the sense you get of being removed from the hustle and bustle of city life, even though it's just a short ferry ride away.
CHECKLIST
Getting there: Air New Zealand flies several times daily direct between Auckland and Sydney.
Further information: Visitors can stay in a heritage holiday house or apartment, or take advantage of glamping or standard camping options. For rates and booking details go to cockatooisland.gov.au.
The writer was a guest of Cockatoo Island and the Sydney Harbour Federation Trust.
