It's three years since we set out from Bundeena to test the feasibility of a group doing the Great South Coast Walk in week-long stages without the need for heavy backpacks, and here we are, six stages later, ready to complete the mission. This stage promises to be the hardest, as we will be crossing the Nadgee-Howe Wilderness - no comfy beds, showers, toilets, camp kitchens or cold beers at the end of the day, just the wildness of unspoilt nature and a few bush camping spots. We were looking forward to it.

So it was back to more traditional bushwalking - loading up the packs with tent, sleeping gear, food and cooking gear etc. We plan to be camping out for four nights on the crossing. Nadgee can be walked in three, but the extra day gives time to better explore this isolated stretch of coastline. We were also starting the walk a little differently. Normally, the track starts at the reserve entrance near the site of the old Merrica River ranger station. We would be starting from the entrance to Wonboyn Lake, where we had finished Stage 6 - continuity is important if you are going to say that you've walked from Sydney to Mallacoota. It would add a few kilometres to the route.

Nadgee-Howe is part of Australia's Coastal Wilderness, one of only 16 designated National Landscapes. Because it is wilderness, permits are required to cross - no more than 30 in the reserve at any one time and a maximum of 8 per group.

In truth, we should have finished a month ago, as we had been issued our permits for then and were ready to go, only to be told that the reserve would be closed to allow aerial feral pest control. Even though I suspect the shooters can distinguish two-legged creatures from four-legged ones from a helicopter, it seemed a good idea to delay. Re-organising a group of very active people is not easy, but here we are, ready to set out and complete the journey.

Let's go.

Reaching a set of wooden steps, we crossed over the scrub-covered sand-dunes and continued our southward push along the long, broad sand of Wonboyn Beach. It brought us to Greenglade, a picnic spot situated just before the beach was replaced by an impressive cliff-line - time for morning tea and time to pick up the water stash that members of our party had left the night before. Our campsite tonight would have no fresh water and water is heavy - the shorter the distance we required to carry it, the better.

Loading up the extra 4 kg into my backpack, we pushed on to locate the small red-rock entrance gully to our route. Not only were we going to have to carry extra water, we were going to carry it up and over a headland that had been burnt in the 2020/21 fires and was covered in dense scrubby regrowth. A faint track led us up and out of the gully, but virtually disappeared near the top and, for the next 500m we had some serious bush-bashing through thickets of wattle. The GPS eventually brought us back to the track, still overgrown in parts but easy to follow, and this led us up and over the ridge to descend steeply towards the wide sandbar of the Merrica River mouth.

It was a pleasure to drop packs and sit in the open again. By now the tide was out, as planned, and we were able to do a short wade across the narrow exit channel of the river and pick our way around the rocks to its southern beach. Here, at a bend in the river, opposite a verdant forested wall, was the pleasant campsite beneath a grove of paperbarks. We had arrived in plenty of time to pitch tents and enjoy the ambience of the Merrica River, even as a series of light showers passed by.

That night, a 3/4 moon illuminated the river - its surface glittering silver as fish jumped with the distant light of Green Cape lighthouse flashing twice every 15 seconds - magical.

We woke to a cloudy morning, but the rain had gone and the rest of our walk promised to be fine. After breaking camp, we quickly headed up a short, sharp foot track to reach the end of a rarely used management trail. This would be our route for a steady climb through some impressive forest following the long spur that led up towards Tumbledown Mountain.

Reaching the junction of a major firetrail, we turned left, crested the spur, and commenced a not quite so long, but winding, descent to the northern end of Newtons Beach. Here, we dropped our packs to make a short detour on a somewhat overgrown, but easy, foot-track that led down to the beach. The aim was to visit the sea caves beyond the beach - unfortunately the tide was too high to walk around to them, but by picking our way along the high rock platform, we could get a good view of the caves and the big surf smashing up against the cliffs. It was well worth the detour and a nice break from carrying a pack.

Back on the firetrail, we continued to a point where 20 years ago, the fair Nello and I had followed a low flat track through the dense vegetation to Newtons campsite. It was now completely overgrown, forcing us to stay on the firetrail, which led up and over a steep ridge. Just before the campsite, we crossed Wirra Birra Creek, its clear flow of water allowing us to top up our supplies for the night's camping - alas, more weight to carry.

After lunch in the grassy clearing of the campsite, accompanied by a chorus of bellbirds, we left Newtons Beach to follow a track up through thick post-fire heath. The track continued southwards, crossing lushly vegetated gullies and drier heathland rises, where a steady progression of fallen trunks across the path attested to the fire damage of 2020.

Finally, the track descended gently to Little Creek campsite, set on the fringe of the Little Creek lagoon, with the ocean just across a sandbar. It was a very pleasant spot with benches and firepit, and a canoe. With the post-rain humidity, it had been a sweaty walk and the idea of a swim in the lagoon was too enticing. It was cold, but very refreshing and dinner around a campfire soon warmed me up again.

Once again, the moon rose over the lagoon to the lulling sound of the surf beyond the sandbar. It was yet another magical evening in Nadgee.

It was actually possible to walk around the rocks and wade the entrance to Little Creek at the sandbar, but what the heck, there was a canoe available, so we did a series of short paddles to transport walkers and packs and then the last walker returned the canoe and waded the entrance. A little bit of variety is a good thing on a walk.

On the other side, we quickly found the track up off the beach and followed it through a long, tall tunnel of grey paperbark trunks, to emerge onto the open heathland of Impressa Moor. This heathland track led us to a junction - left to Nadgee River mouth and the coast, right to Harrys Hut and inland - we turned right.

Inland offered a more varied landscape and we were soon wandering down a firetrail beneath an increasingly tall and shady eucalypt forest. Lush green ferns began to appear (plus one large red-bellied black snake) as we approached the Nadgee River and its clear tannin-stained water. To the left of the ford, a large tree had fallen across the creek - the steps cut into its trunk had turned it into an easy pedestrian bridge. Soon we were on the other side and in the clearing of Harrys Hut. The hut has been nicely restored - with chairs and table for a spot of morning tea and a water tank for topping up supplies.

Leaving this pleasant spot, the route to the south seemed to have been recently cut and cleared - a broad path through the forest that made walking easy and fast. The forest gradually became drier, with patches of grassland, until we eventually emerged back onto the open heathland and another junction - this time coming from the coastline track.

It was time to drop packs and make another short detour - this time out to Nadgee Beach. We had heard it was a beautiful beach and the reoprts did not let it down - a long stretch of golden sand, sun-glistening on the ocean and blue-tinted mountains out to the north. It was another worthwhile detour and pack-free sidetrip.

Panorama of Nadgee Beach

Back on track we made a bee-line across the low Nadgee Moor vegetation to reach the turn-off to Nadgee Lake campsite, set in a grove of trees on the shore of this estuarine lake. It was time for lunch on the shore, with its backdrop of tree-clad hills, before wandering around its white sand beach to reach the broad golden sand bar separating it from the sea.

A cool southerly wind tempered the sunny conditions, as we crossed the bar and climbed back up onto the low vegation of Endeavour Moor - a few splashes of autumn wildflower colour amongst the green of the heath. A couple of our party had the good fortune to spot an elusive groundparrot.

The track became scrubbier and hard to follow as it passed through post-fire regrowth just before the Bunyip Hole - a somewhat marshy and boggy soak in a depression behind the coastal dunes. This was our water source for the evening, but the shallow tannin-stained water was not particularly inviting. Still, there was no choice and, treated and/or boiled, it was fine.

Loaded up with water, we crossed the dune to reach our campsite, a series of sandy clearings amongst the vegetation - a nice shelter from the cold southerly wind. Once again I would be lulled to sleep by the soothing rhythm of the surf, that is after one of my fellow walkers went beyond the call of duty to remove a large tick from my back. Ticks have been the only downside to these first few days.

Another clear-sky day greeted us, as we headed down Bunyip Beach towards the whitish rocks of Cape Howe. At its southern end, a track led us along the back of the rocks to reach a shallow water-course soaking out of the dunes - it was clear and fresh and most of us replaced the dark Bunyip water with it.

A massive dune system lies across the cape area and is one of the highlights of the walk. Twenty years ago, the fair Nello and I headed inland at this point to cross part of them. However, the landscape has changed in that period and a dense scrub barrier lay between us and them. After one UED (unsuccessful exploratory detour) up the water-course, we abandoned this route and pushed on to cross Cape Howe along the coast track.

Note: when I compared photos from our walk in 2004 with that in 2024, it became clear that the dunes themselves had shifted away from the coast at this point .... amazing.

This led us to Conference Point and the jumbled remains of a stone cairn marking the New South Wales - Victoria border. It was time for a group photo to mark the border crossing. Interestingly, I have a similar photo from our crossing of 20 years ago that includes a tall concrete obelisk - now where did that go?

A short distance after the border, the dunes come quite close to the sea - it was a good entry point to explore them, so we scrambled up the steep side to be greeted by a magnificent spectacle of pristine dunes stretching deep inland and down the coast.

It was time for a very enjoyable meander along the wind-rippled dune-tops, before cutting back across a broad hollow to emerge further along the beach where a sandy spit protruded into the sea. One of the pleasures of dune-walking is to try and identify the tracks of the numerous creatures that call them home.

It was the start of a long beach walk that would eventually take us to Mallacoota, 20 km to the south. Gabo Island and its lighthouse became our marker as we strolled down firm low-tide sand of this broad flat beach to the rhythm of the breaking waves. On reaching Lake Wau Wauka, we took a break in a clump of tea-trees overlooking its reed-lined shore - a picturesque setting with the dome of Howe Hill in the background.

Then it was on to continue the long beach walk and cross the desert-like sand flats of Telegraph Point, the closest spot to Gabo Island. As the island receded behind us, we passed the rusty remnants of the "SS Riverina", which was wrecked here in 1927 - pounded by the big surf only a few metres off shore.

Wreck of the SS "Riverina"

Finally, just drawing level with the much smaller Tullaberga Island, we spotted what we had been looking for - the marker for the track into Lake Barracoota. This large freshwater lake, set back behind the dune system was to be our camp for the night.

After pushing through the scrub of the primary dune, the track wound over hump and down hollow, before opening up to a broad sandy slope that led down to the lake shore. With dunes on one side and forested hills on the other, it was a beautiful setting.

We followed the sandy shore to the north to find the camp site in a reed-lined bay, sheltered beneath the tea-trees or on the sandy beach - take your pick. It was a great place to spend the last night of our walk, sitting on the beach sipping a hot chocolate as the sun set to the west and the almost-full moon rose over the lake to the east, while swallows hawked the lake surface for insects. Standing around our small campfire on the edge of this lake in the midst of coastal wilderness, it seemed hard to think that our epic walk that had started in Sydney all that time ago was almost over.

We were up a bit earlier on this last day of the stage - in time to watch the sun rise over the eastern shore of Lake Barracoota and be greeted by another fine and clear-skied autumn day. The early start was to ensure that we arrived at our 10.30am pick-up point on Lake Mallacoota for our transfer across the lake to Mallacoota town. Although we only had 8.5 km to go, the tide would be in this morning, which could mean slower walking on the softer high beach sand.

We hoisted our packs, now some 3-4 kg lighter than when we started and headed off, quickly retracing our winding path through the open dunes and scrubby sand-ridges to reach the aptly named Big Beach. We turned and headed south for one last long sandy stroll between the sea and the scrub-covered coastal dune.

As expected, the tide was high and the sand soft to begin with. However, the tide was falling and for the latter half of the long beach stroll, we could walk on firmer and faster sand as more of the beach was exposed. Ahead, we could see the distant buildings of Mallacoota and before long reached the point where the dune shrubbery gave way to a flat and grassy sand-spit.

Crossing over, we reached the lake shore to see our pick-up boat in the distance and slowly heading our way. Soon, the good ship "Gypsy Princess" pulled up and cap'n Dale lowered the gang-plank for us to walk aboard and begin a pleasant trip across the tranquil sun-glistening waters of Lake Mallacoota - time to admire its beautiful setting, with its islands and backdrop of blue-shaded mountains.

The blue-toned beauty of Lake Mallacoota

Pulling into the Mallacoota wharf, we stepped off to officially mark the end of the 7th stage and the end of our Great South Coast Walk adventure. Those with walking poles raised them as an arch of honour for new end-to-end walkers, Ian, Jan and Philip, while for me it marked a second full coastal journey. It was a bitter-sweet moment; the satisfaction of the achievement tempered by the knowledge that there would be no more stages along this stunning coastline and no more shared camaraderie on the track.

The one thing that stands out from this re-visit, though, is the conviction that The Great South Coast Walk rates as one of the world's best long-distance coastal walks.