We topped up our water and commenced the steady 4 km climb up another fire trail along a spur to just below Tumbledown Mountain, stopping to chat near the top with a couple of mountain-biking fishermen (or were they fishing mountain-bikers) who were riding out from Newton's Beach.

To the west the view through the trees was of a long ridge covered in eucalypts and to the east, we had glimpses from time to time of the sea between the trunks of the tall trees and underbrush. Finally we crossed the ridge and started a steep winding descent that brought us back to the coast at the northern end of Newton's Beach.

We felt content; we had covered 22 km, climbing over two ridges, to reach our campsite, and, despite some soreness, our shins were holding up. In the late afternoon light, the still waters of the lagoon reflected the luminous green of the surrounding vegetation. Past campers had set up a quasi-permanent site with wooden benches and stone tables around a fireplace. We soon had a fire going and, not long after sunset, were sitting back comfortably sipping our coffee as we watched the full moon rising up out of the Pacific Ocean, its rays reflected in the still lagoon waters. Some moments should last forever.

The track from Harry's Hut soon turned back toward the coast, the vegetation becoming drier and less lush as we headed away from the river. Finally, it emerged on the edge of Nadgee Moor, where the forest suddenly gave way to a large area of low coastal heath. The track then turned due south in a straight line across the moor. Small white everlasting daisies, and the red, white and pink bells of epacris provided a dash of colour to the flat green of the heath as we passed by.

Leaving the lake, we climbed up on to Endeavour Moor, where the track became increasingly tenuous as it wound its way through heath that ranged from shin-high to head-high. We were glad that we were wearing long-legged trousers on this stage; the woody heath plants would be merciless on bare legs. Nadgee Wilderness is renowned as a stronghold of the rare ground parrot, but we only saw one, on Endeavour Moor, as we crossed. This made us realise how privileged we were to have had several encounters with these secretive birds during the lighthouse to lighthouse walk the previous week.

As we approached Cape Howe, the track became increasingly vague and we had to concentrate hard to remain on it; the punishment for losing the track risked being very severe in this dense heath. Several weeks earlier, a ranger had commented about crawling through paperbark thickets at stages of this walk and we had thought he was exaggerating. He wasn't! Finally, we emerged from the last dense thicket to the Bunyip Hole, a pleasant little waterhole and camping spot in a depression between the moor and the coastal dunes. At the Bunyip Hole we had a quiet celebration; the sun had emerged for a brief spell and we realised that, earlier on, we had passed the 600 km mark of our walk.

Climbing over the banks of the depression, we descended at last to the beach; across the rolling breakers to the south, the sun shone on the massive sand dunes, up to 40 m high, of Cape Howe. Climbing up into these dunes from the beach, Nello spotted the tracks of a dingo heading south. We followed them and they led us across the cape to where a small cairn of stones and slightly crooked concrete pillar marked the border between New South Wales and Victoria. Stepping onto Victorian sand for the first time, we reached another milestone in our walk. We had left Nadgee and were now in Croajingalong National Park.

Cape Howe - where the east coast of Australia turns into the south coast

For the first couple of kilometres the Victorian coast comprised a rock shelf with a stone-covered shore line, but finally emerged onto a broad sandy beach. Curiously, the beach appeared to have no defined edge as it flowed seamlessly into the dunes behind. We walked quickly along the beach for the last three kilometres, as the sun was sinking close to the horizon.

Finally, a gap in the dunes announced the entrance of Lake Wau Wauka, a beautiful freshwater (slightly brackish) coastal lagoon. We entered the gap, followed the shore of the lake around to another beautiful campsite, under the banksias and overlooking the lake. As at Little River, other campers had left a quasi-permanent site with seat, timber for a table and fireplace and, with just enough light to set up our tent and get the fire going, we soon found ourselves relaxing after a hard 18 km slog through some difficult terrain. The rest of the walk promised to be much easier and, as we watched the flames dancing in the fire, we contemplated the fact that this was the last night of our adventure.

Heading out from the campsite, we noticed that fresh dingo tracks had appeared overnight. The dingo led us all the way to Telegraph Point, where Gabo Island and its lighthouse most closely approach the mainland. Passing it we realised that we had just completed the "Lighthouse to lighthouse to lighthouse walk". Occasionally, the sun would emerge from the clouds to bathe a particular patch of distant dunes in a pale golden light against the dark cloud-covered sky to the south.

The remaining 10 km went very quickly; we walked and talked and joked and laughed and this last leg together seemed like a celebration of our walk. As we were crossing the sand bar blocking Mallacoota Inlet, a pair of sea-eagles flew by, circled and, bidding us a final farewell, flew off. Then suddenly we were there; the last long stretch of beach had ended at the rock face of Bastion Point at Mallacoota. Robbo drew a line in the sand and together we crossed it. After 12 weeks and 650 km, as simply and quietly as it had started, the Great South Coast Walk was over.