The Final Day, 24 July

Well, 4am and here we go again. We're getting quite used to this time of day and it has to be said there is a fair amount of excitement as the final day starts. I immediately sense that the relatively lacklustre public support of yesterday has once again moved up into top gear. For me, all of the agony and doubt of yesterday's first 25km are gone. For Emily and Kate, although they kept it quiet unless asked directly, they struggle on mainly in pain from the heat rash.

Today is another flat day, speaking about the geography, and with daylight comes sunshine and steadily rising temperatures. Although temperatures are due to be high thunderstorms are forecast. In the morning the only hint of these come when we get to the river bridge at Grave and the heavens start to open. Out come all of the ponchos, but no sooner are we settled into them than it stops and slowly they are removed. Once more the sun appears.

There is definitely an atmosphere in the air, one of expectation and excitement. The military groups and Dutch Police, always in fine voice, are singing lustily today and we lap up the atmosphere. Every small village has turned out in force and the music, both live and recorded blasts out at us we plod on and on, never failing to raise our spirits (though please can we have something other than Village People and YMCA?).

The crowds are big today, but as we get to 13km from the end a Dutchman tells us the party will really start. Emily is temporarily kidnapped by a group of Dutch soldiers and Kate visibly perks up whenever there is a uniform in sight (but please don't upset the Scots by asking what the red and yellow lion flag is all about).

And the party does hot up. Villages now appear with crash barriers holding back the crowds, looking very Tour de France. The cheering and singing goes off the scale, especially the favourite little Dutch ditty that has no words...I really can't explain but it's a sort of unofficial anthem and very popular. People disappear off into the crowds to be greeted by loved ones who've come to see them in action. For me, the pain of constant footslogging on tarmac (another 60,000 steps) is eased by the electric atmosphere.

All the walkers are now crowded together on the road and the pace is slower. The crowds get deeper and deeper. The Dutch Police provide a marching band preceded by a Mounted Section and we enter onto the Via Gladiola, the last 5 miles in Nijmegen itself. Crowds hang out of windows, draped all over balconies, even sitting on rooves to get a view. The pace slows again and overtaking becomes impossible. Strangers thrust gladioli into your hands as literally millions are handed out, all walkers must have at least one.

The TV cameras become more plentiful. We approach a major road junction controlled by a police officer on a podium, flamboyant in white hat, controlling traffic and walkers with a white baton. I find out it's his very last day at work and he rightly milks the occasion. He lets us proceed and we all cheer. We start to see the first of the grandstands, still no sign of thunderstorms thank goodness. It's actually getting hotter. Before we know it we are in the final stage, massive crowds everywhere and the volume goes up and up. The Dutch Chiefs of Staff salute us! In small villages the mayor and local police and fire chiefs had saluted us, now it was the turn of the bigwigs.

Then we see it, the finishing banner, below suddenly grey skies. We approach, hold hands, and cross the line together, arms in the air with a huge cheer. We've done it, and I know we are all so proud of what we have done. For my part I know that meeting Emily, Kate and Ben has helped pull me through. More mentally than physically, this would have been a very difficult task without them and I say, "thank you!" I salute Kate as she had done no preparation beforehand and every step appeared to be in pain. I salute Emily as, like me, she walked miles in preparation.

We hurry to our finishing stations, sign in, are congratulated and are awarded our medals. We meet up and I grab a passer by and she takes a photo of us as literally the heavens open. I am proud of our events and proud that I hit my target of £1500 for BLESMA. The pain endured by those young men and women injured in our armed forces vastly eclipsing my discomfort. I did this for me, as a challenge; for them to pay some of our debt and for the memory of Captain Alex Eida, killed in Afghanistan. I salute them all.

Then it's off for a couple of beers, then into town for a meal with my new friends, whom I shall miss very much, but whom I hope to see again in the future.

Roll on next year. For I will be back.