On Sunday morning the water gushed into the Werri Beach Rock Pool and spilt over the sides.
Near the deep end turquoise waves reared up and splashed white on to the rocks.
Two boys stood near the edge and waited to be pushed into the pool.
I waded into the pale green water and stared through my goggles to the bottom.
“It’s beautiful,” I said to my swimming mates, Stephen and Bruce. “So much cleaner than yesterday!”
I cleared my goggles and set off again, delighting in the weightlessness that salt water brings.
We divided the pool into three and swam up and down in our marked out space, careful not to cut our feet on the wall of oyster shells and periwinkles at the end.
On the rock face a fisherman cast his line. Near the wading pool surfers waited for the perfect wave.
The sun started to peak through the grey turning the water from green to blue.
I paused in the shallows and looked across at the hills above the beach.
And wondered if I was ever going to be able to leave this pool.