I bumped into a nice fellow called Paul as I passed through Thirroul (the town where I was born, don't you know), who took me in and fed me some Weet-Bix (did I mention that Sanitarium declined to sponsor this event?), before walking with me for a few K's. I left him at the beginning of Northern Wollongong's extensive seaside bicycle track, and spent the next few hours walking along the seaside into central Wollongong.

I soon discovered the pleasures of walking on grass! The cycle track passes through 15km of grassy park, and my feet were gasping with pleasure (well, okay, not complaining of pain quite so loudly) as I trod the soft blades all the way to Wollongong. I had an excellent (and as it turned out, free) lunch in the Blue Moon Beach Cafe, and marched into Wollongong in search of some cotton boxer shorts to relieve my incessant chaffing (they worked miracles, if you're interested).

Twilight saw me in Figtree (3km further south), where I was picked up by Peter Cahill, a local, and taken to his family home. We all had a bit of fun when the photographer from the Illawarra Mercury arrived and suggested that the best photo would involve me reclining on a big chair with the five family members pampering me from all sides.

And thanks David for letting me sleep in your room.

My first bad weather for the trip kicked in for an hour around nine (a cold headwind and moderate rain), but blew over after I stopped for a late breakfast.

I was joined for the last 8km into Albion Park by a lovely soul called Leslie, who walked with me and provided me with excellent conversation.

Three km before Albion Park a miracle occurred. Standing by the side of the road was Paul (from the Royal National Park and the last 20 years of my life), his wife Sherry and two-year-old daughter Taylor. They'd decided to spend the night in the area, and did I want to stay with them?

Does the pope shit in the Woods?!?

One out of three ain't bad.

I started out well, briskly marching down the road, until a small, normally well-behaved muscle behind my left knee brought me to a screaming halt after less than 90 minutes. Stretching, massaging, Dencorub - nothing would stop it cramping up. It was like a shin-splint, only round the back behind my knee, and it totally prevented me from straightening my leg. My walk became more of a waddle.

On top of this, my change of footwear had brought with it a generous and enriching new set of blisters. These kicked in after two hours. My stroll up Australia was reduced to a trudge up Australia, and eventually to a stagger up Australia. It was at about this time that I decided to revise my daily schedule to a slightly less ambitious pace of 25km per day. I'll be a couple of days late to Kosciusko, but at least I'll get there.

I'm sorry to be going on about my bodily aches and pains, but you have to understand - these issues pervaded my whole day. It becomes hard to concentrate on anything else - life, careers, spirituality, etc - when every step (only 80 every minute) brings with it a rather acute pain.

The day did have some joy. I had a marvellous climb up through the National Park to the top of the Macquarie Pass at Robertson (a height of 2,300 feet - nearly a third of the height of Kosciusko, don't you know). The view at the top was gratifying, and gave me a sense of accomplishment, even if I could see the town I started in not too far away below me.

Finally, I pulled into Robertson, collected my pack, and was picked up by my host for the evening, Roy, and taken home to enjoy a lovely home-cooked meal with his wife and son.