The walk is now over (it was deemed officially complete as the final day walkers headed through the toilet paper finish line). Dave is back at work, and everyone's feet might once again have all their skin. Here are a few photos from the last couple of days.

Thanks for the hospitality, Broadford CFA. But what's with the siren at 4.30 am?? It was just a pole fire. It would have burnt itself out.


Julia having a little sook about a couple of tiny blisters. Harden up! Whoever said you shouldn't walk 42ks with a fractured foot?!


Crossing the Hume.


Only 70ks to Melbourne.... piece of cake.


Looking a little sore and tired there, Dave.


That sky looks ominous.


A hard-earned thirst if ever there was one.

Seymour

Once Dave reached Seymour last night, with walking buddy Chris, he let out a bit of a 'woohoooo', as he realised there are only three more sleeps (and a bag full of kilometres!) until he can take his runners off, and let Ian the walking stick rest for good.



They also came across some road kill they believe was a Velociraptor from 5000 years ago. Maybe, fellas... maybe.


Tonight he has his favourite niece (that's me) joining him in Broadford for an early start tomorrow into Whittlesea, and we'll be joined by a few walkers on the final day (Friday) back into Westerfolds Park. The ETA is around 5pm, and I predict Dave might get the marathon-style wobble-legs as he comes through the gates, just for dramatic effect and sympathy.

This will be the last blog post from me until it's all over (I'll be too busy walking...), so best of luck to all remaining walkers, and we'll see you all at the end. I'd love to find a vodka soda with fresh lime waiting, if you'd be so kind. – Jules.

On the road from Avenel.

And Dave has already reunited his walking stick Ian (pictured, upright) with some old friends.

Let it also be known that concerned loved ones have alerted Dave to the fact he is starting to behave like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Seeing sticks as humans, befriending inanimate objects, making enemies from "harmless" animals (read: horrible magpies), and so on. I think he'll be getting back to civilisation just in time. And at least he's still shaving his face every now and again.

Violet Town to Avenel

Luke joined his dad today for the 35km walk to Avenel. Dave said it was like taking a 6-year-old for a walk. Shimmying down embankments, balancing across metal rails and playing (pretend) sniper of the magpie crowd, Luke kept Dave entertained. And the magpies got them both back for their shenanigans with some more athletic swooping.

Glenrowan

Dave sent word from the road:
The site of a bloody siege over 100 years ago and very close to another when Tom Hawkins' mate handed him a goal after the ball nearly broke the goal post. No hard feelings though. Hopefully the umpire's future is as bleak as Trevor the Sheep's. There's always next year.


Sunday, I headed off to violet town, after waking to 200 km winds. About as much as Tom's mate will feel when he sits the umpire review panel. (Not bitter at all, huh Dave?!)

Back in the swing of it.

Dave left Milawa at 5.30am this morning, hoping to get into Glenrowan in time to watch the Grand Final – if Glenrowan has a pub with a TV in it, that is...

The past couple of days have been very damp, and the caravan has turned into one massive drying room. Hopefully the weather will pick up for a pleasant trip back into Melbourne by Friday.

As expected, Dave has already met some characters (including a horse called Craig), and had friends join him on each leg of the walk. But today, Dave's thoughts are on the Saints. Hopefully they can pull off a win and give him a much needed spring in his step for the rest of the week.

Craig


Mike and Debbie eating more than their share of Debbie's beef burgundy.


Goodbye Milawa. The weather is looking a bit ugly – cold, wet and slippery... just the way St Kilda love it.

And so it starts again.

Dave sent a message home today: Goodbye Bright. Three days rest and we are recharged. With great excitement and trepidation we do a final check of our magpie suppression systems and head for home.
We'll update on his journey home in the coming days.

He's walked to Wandi! ... and is still only half way.

It was a beautiful weekend in the Alpine region. Dave made it safely through Bright and to Wandi at just after 5pm on Sunday to a group of friends cheering (and banging pots and pans), and most importantly, with the beer on ice. There were some sore legs, a sigh of relief, and a thought back to Trevor the sheep, wherever he rests now. Ian, Dave’s walking stick, made it all the way to Wandi, too.
Dave now has four days to rest up and reacquaint himself with the fresh Wandi air, before he heads off again, Melbourne-bound, on Thursday morning to meet new four-legged friends, make new feathered enemies, and enjoy the company of his walking companions, old and new. His arrival is set for Friday, October 2.

The ladies leading the fellas. That's what we like to see.





That is some hat, Dave. I'm not sure if it will work warding off the magpies... but at least you look the part (!?)


The night in Myrtleford:




Day 9 – Wandi day!






The end point... and here they come.




Dave's home:


Shoes off, tick. Beer in hand, tick tick.




It won't take long until they find the pub. And has there ever been a more deserved pint?

The mid-stretch (magpie-land).

It's been a long road between Broadford and where Dave is currently resting his aching body, in Milawa. What's been happening?
Just like Dave's beloved St Kilda football team may have to do, he has had to face off with the magpies. And at this stage, the maggies are winning. Dave has had an offer of a papier mâché hawk to wear on his head, but apparently magpies love hawks... he then thought of wearing an ice-cream container with a propeller on the top, but his vanity got in the way. While avoiding the swoops and pecks, Dave and walking companions have come across a few friends, including a feral pig, an angry bull, and a sheep who accompanied them for two kilometres. Affection for this new walker grew, and he was soon given a name. Trevor the sheep turned off at the next T intersection on the Avenel-Longwood Rd, and hasn't been seen since. Dave is missing the woolly little guy. But that's what life is made of: the little moments that make many a small story. And the last few days have given Dave many of those moments. Now in Milawa, Dave is hoping to catch a bit of the footy (and if his Saints win, maybe they'll get revenge on the magpies for him next weekend) and get enough sleep for the Milawa–Myrtleford stretch tomorrow.
He will be in Wandi by Sunday evening... let's just hope the magpies leave him alone, and our thoughts go out to Trevor the sheep, wherever he is now.

Dave's new alarm clock:


Disspelling a certain myth about electric fences...


Trevor the Sheep:


Dave and walking buddy Tony armed and ready to take on the swooping magpies:


Sweet justice!

*Disclaimer: No one associated with the Walk to Wandi had anything to do with the plight of this bird. Unless it was Trevor.

Day two

On day two there were fewer walkers, fewer white t-shirts, and definitely less sunshine, but the effort was just as big.
Walkers headed from Whittlesea to Broadford, which totalled nearly 40kms. There were blisters and sore feet galore, but everyone was still smiling. And when the crew got to the van in Broadford, the CFA had kindly set up a marquee with nibbles and drinks. In the morning they got up and cooked Dave a big breakfast to fill his stomach for the walk ahead to Avenel. What a treat. Dave has expressed how thankful he is for the overwhelming support along the way. He's not half obvious in his leggings and backpack, so naturally word is spreading past the Great Divide about this event, and Dave's massive feat (not his massive feet).

Here are some photos from day two:





Ah, rest time (and the shoes come off!).