I run across the short timber deck, relief from the gravel, and reach the frowning old front door to the Point Leo boat shed. I turn the handle hoping someone has already unlocked the door and walk in with anticipation, hoping that one of my mates will be sitting on the fake grass deck, or maybe having a game of pool or standing in the newly renovated kitchen, snacking on potato chips. Pulling out my wedgie and adjusting my bikini top I turn left heading down the wooden stairs, hand on the railing I slid down often as a child. Reaching the bottom deck comes the big decisions, go down the evil old pier or take the harsh concrete stairs? Today the pier is calling me, the ocean is at perfect tide height and the sea is running back and forth whispering to the curious pier.