trudge from King's Square to the Clocktower than reporter Nancy Acton, who, travelling with notebook in hand and accompanied by End-to-End cheerleader Ann Mello, seemed to be everywhere at once. Here are her impressions of "the longest day''.

Five thirty a.m., and already alarm clocks around the Island are splitting the darkness. It is time for the army of fund-raising footsoldiers to rise, perchance to shine. Their mission is to walk from St. George's to Dockyard, a foot-slogging 26 miles. The pre-dawn coolness gives no clue as to what the day will bring, but already there has been the threat of rain.

Hours later, carbo/cereal-loaded or breakfastless, some will gather on buses in Hamilton for a free ride to the Town Square. They are very quiet -- contemplative or comatose, one isn't sure -- and stare, emotionless, at Pep Talker Extraordinaire, Mrs. Ann Mello, whose effervescence even at this hour is remarkable. Little do they know that, by day's end, her boundless enthusiasm and encouragement will have played an important role in buoying their spirits. For now, she is simply an endurable source of information.

"There's free sun block, take that water even if you're not thirsty, remember, it's not a race, enjoy the day. ... etc.'' Among the easy riders are Pat LaFontaine, on holiday from Canada, who will walk with her friend Dolores Beraldo. Pat has flown in especially to do the walk, and thinks it will be a good way to see the Island. Dolores is a one-year veteran, and the two aim to beat her 1997 time of six hours so they can party the night away.

Runner Rochelle Todd is a last-minute entrant, and like Pat plans to soak up the scenery, particularly the Railway Trail.

Husband and wife team Judy and David Horst admit their first outing is going to be "challenging'', but David at least has a battle plan: "Start slowly and ease off, that's my motto,'' he laughs. "I have taxi cab money with me.'' Annette Hallett is another one-year veteran, but whose outlook is both philosophical and up beat. She's done the pre-walk exercises, carbo-loaded the night before, planned her post-walk fitness recovery programme, and now looks forward to the variety of snacks on offer at the water stops. She describes the event as "fun'' and "a wonderful atmosphere'', and says the public's encouragement is invaluable.

It's not a race, really...

The hardest part, she reckons, was collecting the money from her pledges! Airline employee Roderick Todd is a first-timer who even now is questioning the wisdom of his decision to participate. Nonetheless, he expects the vociferous encouragement of his colleagues at the Airport entrance, and his family throughout the route, will help. For now, he just hopes his new walking shoes are sufficiently broken in to let him fulfill his 26-mile goal. In any case, he's warned his colleagues he might be wearing carpet slippers to work tomorrow.

Like her fellow Bermuda Walking Club members, Bermuda National Gallery director Laura Gorham wears a looped black ribbon on her shirt.

"Our whole club is walking in memory of Charles Daulphin, who was our first vice-president,'' she explains. "It just won't be the same without him.'' In the Town Square, St. George's hundreds are gathering. T-shirts, trendy sports gear, track suit bottoms, bum bags, peaked caps, knobbly knees, sturdy legs, bountiful behinds, the lean and the lovely... they're all there.

From the nearby Town Hall the smell of coffee and fresh pastries tickles the nostrils. The rest rooms are doing a nervous, last-minute trade.

On the periphery, Adam Birch (16) and Jeremy Drover (18) wait patiently on pedal cycles. It will be a very long, potentially tedious day for them bringing up the rear and making sure the walkers are all right throughout the journey.

Funky music blares from the loudspeakers, its joviality lost on the early risers -- until, that is, the physiotherapists in their fuschia T-shirts take charge.

"All right, everbody let's GO,'' one commands.

Walkers find their own pace "It's 3, it's 2, it's 1..take it up. Inhale. Exhale. To the left.

Hamstrings -- very important. Take it up...and stre-e-etch the calf, four, three, two and hold. Excellent. And uuuup. Bend those knees now. Clench those fists...'' Toes twitch, backs arch, knees bend, legs exend, bums rise and fall, hands reach skyward. Suddenly, the Square is transformed into an instant park of living statues. If this was an obedience class, everyone would pass.

"I don't know how you guys do this,'' the instructor exclaims. "I'm going back to bed until 10.30!'' "Okay, everybody,'' Ann booms. Another pep talk: "Remember, it's not a race...'' Well, you could have fooled me. The super-keen are straining at the rope barrier. When finally it is pulled back, the striders are off like lemmings to the sea.

Someone spots the super-fit Dr. Eugene Harvey.

"Isn't he cute?'' she murmurs.

The leaders set a brisk pace. By the first water stop at Ferry Reach the clumps of humanity are thinning into long lines. With the fitness fanatics out of sight, the rest are setting their own, sensible pace. Water is not yet crucial but the Crimestoppers and Deaf Awareness volunteers spring smartly into action, eager to press their hospitality into outstretched hands. A telltale hose trailing through the airport fence is early testimony to the community spirit which pervades this event: Bermuda Aviation Services has stepped in to provide water so that the original supply for this stop could be despatched further up the line.

At the Plantation, the purloined water is now more eagerly received, although Ann finds it necessary to chivvy the decliners. "Take that water,'' she hollers. A woman hollers back: "We need more portaloos!'' The hill puts a little pressure on the column of walkers, as does the effortless passage of a helmeted adonis screaming by in the opposite direction on roller blades. Town Crier E. Michael Jones tries his own brand of encouragement -- the hypnotic rhythms of Island music thumping from his slowly rolling car. Team Bacardi marches to its own cadence.

At Harrington Sound Post Office, representatives of Big Brothers & Sisters of Bermuda, including journalist Meredith Ebbin, stand by with energy bars: Granola, apple, blueberry, raspberry. "Come and get your breakfast!'' Ann urges. Light 'n' easy, they prove a popular choice. Eager hands grab two, three, four even...

As they have for 11 years, members of The Bermuda Physically Handicapped Association and residents of Summerhaven -- one of the first beneficiaries of the End to End Walk, again man a water stop at John Smith's Bay. BPHA chairman Willard Fox notes that, as one of the first beneficiaries of this annual charity drive (they had purchased a special vehicle with the funds), the BPHA always finds it a pleasure to help out.

Although he admires the way End to End helps smaller charities who would otherwise be lost in the spotlight of professional fundraisers, he goes on to claim that many of his friends are not walking this year because they believe End to End now has a paid fundraiser and doesn't need their help. The news alarms Ann, who assures him that absolutely no-one connected with the End to End organisation gets paid. Absolutely everyone is a volunteer, she stresses.

With skies still overcast and breezes coming off the South Shore, the walkers trudge smartly on. Conversation is now almost non-existent, camaraderie silent.

At the foot of Collectors Hill children blow bubbles and wave windmills at the walkers. As clients of asthma special nurse Mrs. Liz Boden, they are highlighting Open Airways, the asthma-related charity and one of this year's beneficiaries. Everyone is especially on the look-out for OA walkers, and especially Mr. MacDonald Tucker (See story, Page 13 , a senior citizen who is walking to raise funds for OA, and several others. It is a water stop? Meanwhile, at Albouys Point in Hamilton, Middle-to-End walkers are gathered for their pep talk, fitness warm-up, and official "off''. Among them is a senior Police officer and his family, who helped man the Plantation water stop, as well as Mr. Sandy Mitchell, founder of Windreach farm, and Mrs. Ian Birch with her dog (who will bow out at his Southampton home).

By now, the humidity and temperature have risen considerably, and while this group does not appear to be comprised of hard-core gym escapees, enthusiasm is quietly high. Up go the arms, down go the bums, sideways go the legs.

"Take it upppp...and downnnn'', says the instructor. Again, the pep talk from Ann. Drink the water, enjoy the wal, don't litter... Finally, she explains that the start will be delayed a few moments to let last-minute entrants sign up inside the Bank. Meanwhile, a large "lion'' representing the nearby Bank is approaching melt-down in its heavy costume. Time ticks by and Ann returns -- to absolutely no-one. With 15 miles to go, the walkers self-started! "The reason we start them at 11 is so that they will join up with the St.

George's walkers,'' Ann explains. "We don't want to create divisions between the participants. Everyone's effort is just as valid.'' Nonetheless, there is a subtle difference in the individual numbers pinned to each chest: black for St. George's starters, red for Hamilton, and blue for youth.

Up over Trimingham's Hill the new crowd goes, and finally onto the blessed cool of the Railway Trail, there to blend imperceptibly with the others.

Water stops were popular At Harmony Hall members of the Bermuda Mental Health Foundation hand out pegs of fresh oranges, and water. There are lots of takers, for the sun is now almost overhead. "Go, everybody, you're looking good,'' Ann reminds.

End-to-End committee member and historian Eugene Carmichael looks on. "We have created a gentle giant,'' he admits of the passing scene.

By now well settled into a comfortable routine, there is an almost robotic rhythm to the procession -- but also pink faces, sweaty bodies, and traces of fatigue. All conditions that the Camp Hill, Warwick stop do their best to put right.

As one might expect of anything planned by members of the Bermuda Musical & Dramatic Society, imagination and flair are the key ingredients here. First, there's rousing music blaring from a station wagon (selections include classical theme from Rocky, Chariots of Fire, Sousa marches, and -- prematurely, perhaps -- the Hallelujah Chorus). Then there's the blessed portaloo, newly restocked with a six-pack of America's softest because vandals had strewn the original megaroll all down the Railway Trail during the night.

"And do you know,'' said Adrian-Lee-Emery, "that when our man put his purchase down on the counter at the supermarket and the cashier said, "Is that all?'' and he responded "Yes, I'm having a s***** day'' she didn't bat an eyelash!'' Meanwhile, back at the former train station platform the "menu'' is as varied - and tempting - as the Society's productions: sodas; beer, light and regular; water, cold and room temperature; muffins, coffee rolls, and bananas.

"Would you like a beer or vodka and tonic?'' a walker is asked. The mixture of incomprehension and temptation, clearly written on the man's face, gives him pause. "Er, do you have gin?'' he enquires." 'Fraid not,'' Emery responds. "Oh well, I'd better keep moving then,'' he says bleakly, resuming his stride.

Dark 'n' Stormies, Lee-Emery reveals, were discontinued after a walker threw up.

Certainly, this is a group that volunteers in style. The day begins, as always, with Thespian Trail Mix: bacon sizzling on the portable barbecue, and coffee rolls or muffins (warmed or plain) sent southward with champagne and orange juice.

Should anyone miss the music, bananas or beer, there's always the rubber plugs on chains around their necks to ponder. When Lee-Emery explains, "We're the Water Stoppers, get it?'' the difference between British and Bermudian terminology is "got''! Further up the line at Barnes Corner, chrome chairs proclaim professional fitness instructor Patty Tatem's stretching station, and registered nurse Kathy Roberts' band-aids. Stretching, at this juncture, is vital to preventing cramps which accompany tired muscles.

"Walking tightens the upper body, so we have stretches for the shoulders, neck, upper and lower back,'' Patty explains - information apparently lost on a lot of these innocents abroad, but fortunately not all.

Next door, Parents Resource Institute for Drug Education (PRIDE) volunteers proffer water, `power drink' and slices of to-die-for French bread fresh from Dean's Bakery.

Patrick gets odd looks as he drops beer bottles into a waste bin. A first-time walker, he is disgusted by the amount of litter dropped on the Railway Trail, particularly since walkers were asked not to.

"I don't understand how people can walk for one charity and make extra work for another (KBB)'', he fumes.

Near the Southampton flea market shop, a self-appointed traffic warden draws a firm line between four-wheelers and two leggers; further along, a floppy-hatted artist commits to canvas heaven knows what vista glimpsed through the snake of sweaty thighs.

Once more on the Railway Trail, Glenn Smith and Thad Crouch of International Bonded Couriers dispense logo'd bottles of water and fresh orange pegs. Glenn reveals that last year he was a walker, and this is his way of giving something back to the community -- in addition to a cash donation.

But what is this across the way? Two men in a cage? The absence of a "Don't feed the animals'' sign suggests they aren't on exhibit, and yet ...Could the hard hats be a clue? Yes, indeed! Officially, they are employees of a utility company "working'' at the enclosed exchange. Unofficially, they can't believe their luck and hunker down to give their hormones a kick by ogling the surfeit of female flesh jiggling -- oops, passing -- by.

"Do you bite?'' a wag enquires. Their answer is left blowin' in the wind as Police Inspector Beverly Hopkins -- coach, cheerleader and photographer for A-Watch Central Team (all women save for Sgt. Dave O'Meara) -- cruises by on her pedal cycle. Pure coincidence, of course.

The end is near! More sweat, more blisters, and more weary miles later, walkers gain the blessed shade of the Bob's Valley stop, manned by volunteers from the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. With a small assortment of canines dispassionately looking on (who wants to crunch smelly ankles?), hands eagerly reach for the cold water and miniature Snickers bars. This quick-fix energy booster really socks it to flagging bloodstreams, with demonstrable results.

Sagging spirits and tired bodies are rapidly revamped with vigour and a quickened pace. Mrs. Janet Grayson, one half of a great love story on this walk, pauses only long enough to say, "I can't stop'' as she hurries past, doubtless to discover what yet another banner of encouragement created by her husband Peter will say.

The ever-watchful Ann hears lawyer Tim Marshall complain about his hurting toes. "Put some Vaseline on them,'' she calls out. "No way,'' he responds, moving on, "I want to be tortured''. Is he a disciple of the "No pain, no gain'' philosophy? Later, at the Bank of Bermuda, Somerset stop, Ann tries again.

"How do you like being tortured?'' she hollers.

"I love it,'' he says.

Here, as elsewhere, no-one gives in to the physical torture and takes advantage of the Bermuda Telephone Company's cellular phone service, provided at all water stops should walkers want to give position fixes, call home or taxis.

Courage, mes amis ... At last, at last Dockyard is within reach. "Nearer, my goal, to thee...'' "How do you feel now?'' we ask Roland and Marion Lines. A faint smile from him, silence from her tells the tale. "Let this be over!'' "All right fellas, here comes Janet!'' the elated Peter Grayston shouts to the world. For what turns out to be the last time, she will read one of the 12 banners he spent the previous night making. "Janet's a winner! Go, Janet Go, Janet, you are fantastic,'' they say. At the finish line, Peter plans to add a party horn and rattle to the euphoria. Best that he doesn't know slow-moving traffic will rob him of this final wish.

Meanwhile, Janet collects a huge kiss.

"If he wasn't my husband, I'd marry him,'' she smiles, before moving on. And so the great gates are breached, the narrow passage leading to the finish line is -- gasp -- here! End-to-End committee member Ian Birch is the first greeter. "Your friends are waiting with a beer in the Frog & Onion,'' he advises one man. With a fiendish glint in his eye, weariness is cast aside the weariness as he power walks to malt heaven.

A group of three shuck the shoes, flag a passing taxi and pile in. Siani Colley's eye-catching Shorn the Sheep bag strikes a whimsical note on her back, its little black legs swaying as she walks. She has taken four hours and 30 minutes to complete her journey, and has "tight and tired'' legs to prove it -- but oh, was the scenery gorgeous, she says.

The Comfort Tent, with its physiotherapists and massage therapists, does a roaring business soothing punished bodies, to the fascination of passers-by who stop to study the unfamiliar spectacle of people being climbed upon, legs being bent and basted with balm.

Finally, with the sun setting, Mr. Sandy Mitchell, who has cerebral palsy, finishes his heroic 15-mile walk in six hours and 20 minutes, having refused all offers of a lift towards the end. It matters not that there are few behind him now. He has made an enormous statement on behalf of the physically challenged, and an important contribution to a wonderful charity. Interview: Page 14 The St. John Ambulance Brigade have had a quiet day. "Just Panadol and band-aids,'' EMTA Miss Shirlene Furbert says. As my host for the day, Ann Mello sums it all up best.

"End-to-End is a terrific wellness activity. There are no stars. We don't care who comes first. We care who comes last and is safe. To me, the walk encompasses all the things I consider part of a wellness activity, and an opportunity for everyone to participate on their own level.'' And so it is.

ON THEIR WAY -- The Bank of Bermuda's lion mascot and a little helper see off the Middle-to-End walkers from Albouy's Point Husband and wife team Judy and David Horst admit their first outing is going to be "challenging'', but David at least has a battle plan: `Start slowly and ease off, that's my motto', he laughs. `I have taxi cab money with me.' LOOKING GOOD -- The early morning start from King's Square in St. George's Anne Mello OASIS -- The first water stop at Ferry Reach STILL SMILING -- Walkers wave as they carry on with the End-to-End