walkers who completed the St. George's to Dockyard segment of this year's End to End walk. This, in her own words, is the story of her journey: St. George's at 7.30 on a Saturday morning; for someone who lives in Somerset this would seem like a strange location at such an hour on the weekend -- even the pubs weren't open! The Square was full of fit people stretching things (muscles mostly) and parting with vast amounts of cash at official sign-in tables. I was to be part of this annual event and join the fit people for a 26-mile trek to the other end of Bermuda. Crazy? Mad? These were just two of the adjectives that sprung to mind as I, too, parted with some cash and started to stretch my bits. I felt a slight tingle of excitement as my mind raced to the finish and I pictured myself walking the last 50 yards to rounds of applause.

I was soon brought back to reality as I joined the other 300 or so walkers and jostled for a good vantage point at the start. Lynn (my partner for the day) and I set off at a fairly brisk pace, admiring all the local sights -- tight buns, well maintained young males to name but a few. In spite of the obvious distractions we managed to settle into what we hoped would be a good pace for a finish in six hours.

Being in unfamiliar territory without the aid of a route man (neither of us were Boy Scouts), we were surprised to walk along the road for such a distance without being directed onto Tribe Roads or the Railway Trail. Ferry Reach approached and the first drinks station -- a welcome sight. I am sorry to report, Mr. Organiser, that most of the water collected at this station was spat out 5 yards later. Unprintable expletives followed as we all decided there was a conspiracy afoot. Still rather thirsty, on we went in search of some bottled water. It wasn't long before drinks stations seemed to be around every corner, and I am happy to report that it was only the Ferry Reach department who were supplying a salty substance cleverly disguised as water.

All along the route we were encouraged by local residents clapping and calling out useful statements like "not long to go'' or "looking good''. With less than the distance covered, a bad hair day, and smudged lipstick, we thought we may have been victims of Bermudian sarcasm! On we marched, left at Devil's Hole, onto South Shore and past John Smith's Bay.

Following `Red Shorts' from King's Square to the Clocktower As we approached Spittal Pond, Lynn was engaged in conversation with a distinguished gentleman fellow walker wearing red shorts. It turned out that he was a veteran walker and was aiming for his usual finish time of six hours.

As this was our first attempt, and we had little idea of what pace to maintain in order to reach our goal, we decided to keep the red shorts in sight. The distance between St. Mark's Church and the roundabout had most definitely grown since the last time I drove it! This long, straight stretch was eased by two lady customers at Hill's produce stall tossing us both a banana out of their car window. These kindly acts really do give you such a boost.

So, with the red shorts and the roundabout in sight, our watches and legs told us that we were right on schedule. At last we were directed off the main road and onto the Railway Trail at Grape Bay Lane. It was such a relief to walk side by side away from traffic noise, but panic set in as we realised we had lost sight of the red shorts. A gear shift was in order, and fortunately our feet responded. Here too the local residents were out in force with encouraging words, cheering and clapping; even the children called out "Great job girls''. Just to hear "girls'' gave us a spurt!).

Barnes Corner was our next goal, which had to be reached by midday; we were now obsessed by this six hour thing! I think it was along this stretch that my upper thighs gave me a subtle reminder that they were being worked rather harder than usual. Although it was a very cloudy day I also started to notice the heat; well, either that or my hat was too tight! Lynn owned up to the possible start of a blister, so mutual support played a big part in the last eight miles. It was 10 past 12 when we arrived at Barnes Corner; blisters, aches, behind schedule -- our spirits were not good, but what was that in the distance? The red shorts! The spring returned to our step so we filled up with water and set off in pursuit of the gentleman in the aforementioned attire.

Nice straight, flat Southampton/Somerset railway trail really suited our aching limbs and we managed to maintain our pace whilst still uttering words of inspiration to each other. I was constantly calculating our uncovered distance against time remaining as, by this point, there was no way I was going to reach Dockyard after 2 p.m. Up through Somerset Village with the usual shouts of encouragement from residents and onto Watford Bridge. We passed a few walkers along the approach to Dockyard who, like us, were gritting their teeth and showing sheer determination.

We even managed a pose and a joke with the roving Royal Gazette photographer.

With a camera around, I would normally have re-touched lipstick, combed my hair and, most importantly, breathed in, but at 25 miles and with an enormous sense of achievement just around the corner, appearance was well down my list of priorities. An overwhelming sense of elation flooded over Lynn and I as the gates of Dockyard came into view with almost ten minutes to spare. We double checked the Clock Tower just to make sure as we were ushered up the final 50 yards to cheers and applause from the waiting crowd -- just like I had imagined six hours earlier.

Dear reader, you have to do this walk. It's like having a baby -- when you get to feel the end result, all the pain becomes a thing of the past; just ask the man in the red shorts.

NEARLY THERE -- Meet a Mom Association president Joy Robertson (right) and her walking companion Lynn Norman still have the strength to smile as they walk through Ireland Island towards the end of the End-to-End Walk.