We’ve been coming to this waterhole for 30 years. Like the creek we’ve been rearranged – ravaged by time but still shining | Jessie Cole

When we strip off, it is all there on our bodies: scars mixed in with the ordinary wear and tear. It’s bolstering – this evidence of life lived Most waterholes in the northern rivers of New South Wales are hidden from view. Creeks snake through private land, unseen from the road. To find the path to my waterhole, a visitor needs directions. The forest is thick and there is no line of sight. When I was a teenager, many of my peers lived on bushland with waterways. I had a close-knit group of girlfriends and we’d have weekend sleepovers, moving between each other’s houses and creeks. Each creek system is unique and constantly changing. Flooding is rife and, with each flood, a waterhole will be altered. From season to season, nothing stays the same. I love all the creeks of my youth but my favourite belongs to my longtime bestie. Unlike my waterhole, which is small and round, shady and mysterious, hers is a long, wide stretch of waterfront with a pebbled bank, a swing-rope, and an old cement staircase down. Turning into her driveway, there’s nothing to signify the oasis within. Dry grass, big-eyed cows, a few pieces of scattered farm machinery. You drive across barren paddoc