It's a short but often rough trip skimming across the ocean towards the island.
You hear the rocks rolling beneath the boat as it slides ashore at Waiorua Bay, walking down a gang plank, across a stony beach strewn with paua shells and up a track to reach the check point.
Here, I encountered hundreds of native lizards taking shelter under a bench seat.
My amazement at the sheer abundance of native life was the common theme throughout my island experience.
As I sat and listened to the history of the island as told by John Barrett, co-owner of Kapiti Island Nature Tours and a member of the last remaining family to own land on the island, I very quickly came to appreciate the island's pest-free status and the immense work involved in ensuring it stays that way.
The island had a scare in 2010 when a stoat was sighted but DOC immediately deployed a team which searched rigorously, discovering eight stoats.
The island hasn't had a pest incursion since, but hundreds of pest control traps are routinely checked and baited.
As I was there for an overnight say, I found my cabin nestled among a valley of flax. After ditching bags, my friends and I headed for the island's peak.
The 4.8km Okupe Valley Loop track follows a gentle gradient to a lookout above the western cliffs.
We reached the top, where a precipice below plunges to a jagged coastline, home to a colony of seals.
It's a view that requires more than a moment of contemplation - but don't put down your bags. Cheeky weka are always waiting and watching for the perfect time to pounce, seemingly not afraid of anything.
After returning from our walk and washing up for dinner, we met in the dining room which is perched on the side of the island looking out across the ocean towards the mainland.
The setting sun put on an amazing display of golden light filtering through the clouds and onto the ocean.
As we waited for dinner, local wine and cheese appeared, lining the table and our stomachs.
In 1897 John's grandmother Utauta Webber refused to sell her land to the government, which was turning the island into a nature reserve.
This act of defiance, that future generations would come to thank her for, has allowed public access to the island and maintained its Maori roots.
Later, with dinner over, the sun had set and warmed by the wine and hearty meal, we pulled on jackets and set out into the valley in hopes of catching a glimpse of the national icon.
Following our kiwi-spotting tour guide, John's son, Manaaki Barrett, we walked slowly and softly around the valley, careful not to make a sound.
The birds were calling to one another, giving away their location, and before we knew it we heard a kiwi pair heading towards us through the bush.
I could hear scuffling in the leaves when suddenly one ran across the track, brushing up against my friend's leg. What an experience.
To have such a close encounter with this weird pre-historic looking bird was more than special.
Waking up in the morning, kereru were out in force, perched in the trees and pecking at the ground.
Weka bathed in the carved troughs dotted around for that very purpose, while little blue penguins nested under the deck and a pair of takahe wandered the grounds, stopping in to say hello.
Though the birds on the island aren't tame, they are unafraid to be living in and around humans and often relax within arms-reach.
The bustling of birds made my heart break for the mainland's bird populations and detest even more the pests endangering their survival.
While my trip was in the depths of winter, Kapiti Island showcased its magnificent beauty and mauri, and it has opened my eyes to what we are in danger of losing.
There is endless adventure to be had on Kapiti. It's a nature-lover's dream and the embodiment of native untouched New Zealand.
