Endless Mountains 2026 Stage H

 After the initial shock of being in an actual building with four walls wore off, our team approached the check in table set up down the short hallway and in the dining room of the ski lodge. Patty was seated at the table with four envelopes and sign in sheets neatly arranged in front of her. She proceeded to explain the deal. As we had heard, there were four different orienteering courses set up on the grounds of the cross-country ski area. They were either short or long and easy or hard. During her explanation, Jim came over and joined in detailing how we were to go about the challenge. 

I can honestly say I was nearly the most exhausted and bone tired as I had been up to that point in the whole race. I just wanted to sit down and rest for a few minutes. Like the thought of sitting in an actual chair and just staring off for 10 minutes seemed like it would have been heavenly. Alas, daylight was a-wasting and I had somehow earned the title of "most excited about the orienteering courses" on our team. And so, it was assumed I was ready to go out guns blazing and hop right into an orienteering course. The question was which one. I had thought the short hard or long easy sounded doable, but at that point, when we were still hoping to complete all four courses, it made the most sense to check off the hardest course. I signed my name on the Long Hard course and accepted the map handed to me. 

Glancing over the map, it actually didn't look too terribly difficult. There was only one or two points I knew I would have to really use my brain to find. Becky gave me a few different attack point options for CP"L" while I emptied my pack of any non-mandatory items. Once my pack was blessedly lighter than normal, I bid my teammates adieu and set off on my own for what I was assuming would be an hour of sweet solitude.

I started my route by grabbing a CP tucked along a creek and then another up a semi shallow trail nestled in a drainage pit of sorts. From there, I goofed around a large rocky area for a few minutes until I saw my intended flag hanging about 100 yards further up the trail. After that punch I needed to gain a respectable amount of elevation. The maps were zoomed in from what looked like a caltopo app, with features slightly blurred and oddly enlarged. To find the next two points I needed to follow the abandoned framework of an old ski lift. The first of those two points was hanging in a huge metal culvert that ended with me soaking my shoes. Walking through the thigh-high vegetation to the next CP just saturated my shoes even more, so it wasn't a big deal. 

I popped into the woods just a smidge prematurely for the next point before realizing my goof and then homed in to my intended CP. While I was climbing that trail, I had looked back and seen a spectacled gentleman, also deeply focused on the map in his hands, following along the same route. I had the thought of linking up with him, but I still have imposter syndrome and worried he would think I was just trying to ride his shirttails on the course. 

After hitting that CP, which I had thought was my highest elevation of the course (ha. hahahaha.) I dipped back down the trails to a CP that was nestled deep in a reentrant ensconced by muck and mire. It was after punching that CP that I realized I had not paid enough attention to the contour lines, and I was going to have to turn around and scale back up the side of the mountain to the next two CPs. Rather than return to the trail, I chose to bushwhack directly up the incline. It was so steep in this no-mans-land between ski trails that I was pulling myself up, hand over fist, for what felt like eons. In actuality, it was probably only a like 100 feet of elevation, but it felt like I was trying to scale the side of Everest in my effort. 

When I finally reached the connector trail between two ski runs I ran into Brittany. She looked flustered and slightly over the course. I asked which course she was running and she laughingly said, "Short Easy, of course!" She had also underestimated the challenge and not brought enough water. I offered for her to have some of mine, but she assured me she was on her return route and would be totally fine. I continued on to the point I knew I was going to have to work for. 

As I approached the turn in the trail I was looking for, I spotted a reentrant that appeared on the map like it could lead me at least relatively near CP"L." I started up the little dry-ish creek bed. It always amazes me when you can feel as if your muscles and will power are at rock bottom and yet you can dig just a little deeper and keep going. The human body is an amazing thing, and with the continued knowledge that there is always just a smidge more gas in the tank, we can really amaze ourselves with what we are capable of. Cause it doesn't make sense that my legs kept climbing and my determination didn't dry up. 

I climbed higher and higher up that reentrant until I came to a boggy mess of a clearing. I had started the climb with the hopes that the CP would just plop in front of me at the top. There was no plopping. I continued on the same trajectory for a while before I stopped and really looked at the map. There was no back stop to let me know I had gone too far. Just never-ending forest and topography. There was a larger reentrant to the right of where I was, so I thought to maybe shoot over to that area and poke around. I came to a boulder laden, treefall entombed, natural obstacle course and started to continue up. After a few minutes I started to notice just how low the sun was getting. This wasn't smart. I turned back toward the trail and slowly made my way down. I figured I would go for the remaining two points and then try this one again.

I headed further along the trail toward CP "M" and decided on approaching it from the least steep side of the hilltop. As I was picking my way through the thick and nearly impenetrable Vermont equivalent of rhododendrons, I came upon the same guy I had seen earlier on the course. I decided I didn't care if I seemed like a lost little puppy at that point and I asked him if he had any luck with CP"L". He said he was going for that one next and to just call out for him when I started going for it and he would help me out. I thanked him profusely and went on to punch M. 

As I was returning to the trail intersection where he said he was going to shoot a bearing, I realized I had no idea what to call out to find him. I didn't catch his name, and I didn't want to just yell out "Hey glasses-guy!! Where are you?!" I decided I had to be a big girl and shoot my own bearing. I got a heading and dove directly into the woods. I climbed up and up and up yet again. While I don't claim that maintaining a heading is my best ability, I gave it my all to stay on course. For what seemed like an exorbitant amount of time, energy, and elevation, I kept going. Eventually I started to give up hope on finding this ding dang CP. The only problem was that if you missed even one of the points on your course you didn't get any credit for all your work. It was all or nothing. So, if I gave up on this one, then all the effort I had put into the other points was, well, pointless!

Just as I was really considering throwing in the towel, I spotted glasses guy climbing over a boulder coming toward me. Hot dang! I called out to him in relief and excitement! We closed in the distance between us and he assured me I was very close and to follow my heading just a few meters up and around the boulders in front of us and I would spot the CP at the top of a small rock ledge. As promised, there it was! I was so relieved. I only had one more point to find before I could head back to the lodge and stop moving for at least a little while. 

Rather than turn around and head back the way I had come, I decided to change trajectories and head in a more direct route to my final CP which was on a small creek at the very bottom of the ski area. I crawled, scaled, and slid down toward the trail I had tried to use as my attack point the first time I went for "L". Within a few minutes I recognized the obstacle course before me and realized I hadn't been too far off on my first attempt at the CP. If I had maybe used more tools in my toolbox with that attempt I may have found it and saved myself at least 30 minutes. I promised myself I would not "just hope for the best" when I went for future off trail points. 

I dropped back onto the trail and wove my way through ski runs until I came to the whereabouts for my final punch. Another racer was walking toward me in the fading light and I asked him if he thought going for the CP on the creek without a headlamp was doable, because I had left all light sources on the table in the lodge. He looked like he was lost, confused, and didn't understand the words coming out of my mouth. There was an awkward pause and he finally said, "yea, sure." I don't know who was more of a walking corpse at that point, him or me. 

I came to the wood line where I was planning to dive into the thick of the vegetation for my final point when glasses-guy came bebopping out of the woods. He kindly gave me a heading to follow, and I dialed it into my compass as I thanked him yet again.  Within a few feet of entering the dark of the woods I noticed a trampled trail through the tall grass and low shrubbery. Even though I had just had a pep talk with myself about not being lazy in my navigation, I put my compass back in my hip pocket and blindly followed the path in front of me. It dropped me right on the creek, but the CP was nowhere to be seen. I looked at my map and saw that the point should have been just a smidge further down the creek to the left. I didn't see any path over the land that headed in that direction, and I was near my absolute last bit of gas in the tank, so I decided hopping in the creek and wading through the knee-deep waters was easier than trying to force my way through the thick creek side bushes.

The cool water invaded my swampy shoes and felt lovely on my hot and blistered feet. I slowly sloshed my way down the creek and soon spotted my final punch of the course. As I climbed up the small step up to the creek bank, I saw an obvious trail just behind the flag. Well dang. I guess there was a trail I could have taken rather than slopping through the creek. But I did not regret the feeling of the refreshing water on my feet and calves. 

I returned to the trail and followed a ski run called "home" back to the lodge as the sun completely set for the last time on the race. I was spent. Like every muscle in my body cried for a rest. Even my core felt wobbly as I trekked through the un-mowed thigh high grasses of the meadow surrounding the front of the lodge. I knew as soon as the next Irritatingly Optimistic teammate would head out for their run I was going to literally fall on the floor of the lodge and just rest. Sleep would be awesome, but even just staying still for a spell sounded glorious. 

I came into the lodge and handed over my punch card to Patty. She gave me a smile and a nod of approval at my completion of the course. Waddling back over to the table we had claimed, I saw Becky resting with her head on her folded arms on the table. I didn't spot Dan at first, but quickly realized the snoring human wrapped in a bivy along the wall was my other teammate. Out like a light. I tapped Becky on the arm and plopped into a chair. She had been expecting me for a while and was surprised it had taken me so long, but stated other teams were taking just as long on the long-hard course. I agreed it had been a bit more challenging than expected and apologized for using up all the daylight. We together realized there was no way Dan was going to go out in the dark for any of the courses, and we were running out of time.

Not only did we have three more possible courses ahead of us, but we also needed to allot time for our two-hour penalty at this TA. It was roughly 9pm by this time and we wanted to give ourselves at least 8 hours on the final leg. There was no way we were going to be able to do the other 3 courses. Becky decided running the short easy course was probably the smartest option. She took her mandatory gear, a headlamp, and went to Patty to get the map. 

Looking around the lodge there were bodies everywhere. Racers were sprawled out on tables, under tables, across chairs, behind counters, and along walls. Many people had their legs elevated on chairs and were laying on the floor. This looked like the very best option. I peeled out of my shoes and flopped my absolutely spent legs on a chair and literally flopped my torso on the floor with my pack under my head and my raincoat across my eyes. I didn't sleep. I don't know how to describe the feeling of being 100% on "E" and still not able to sleep. I don't know what I did, but it may have been an out of body experience for just a few minutes. I remained cognizant, but I recharged over the next 20 minutes to the point where I knew I could go on. I pulled my raincoat from my eyes and looked around. Brittany was set up at a table just behind me and appeared to be a functioning human. The lure of human interaction outweighed my need for sleep, so I dragged myself up and over to a seat at her table. 

Together over tailwind and cheetohs, we chatted and commiserated for a few relaxing moments. Zach was out doing another course, but they were also resolved to doing only two of the four possibilities. It made me realized that if we were only doing two, why didn't I do the short hard or long easy?! A point is a point! But, honestly, I think I enjoyed that long hard course more than I should have, given my exhaustion and the late hour in the race. 

While we were enjoying the moment of doing nothing, Dan appeared to wake up from his deep slumber. I watched him poke his head out from his bivy and look around for something. When his eyes landed on me, he held out an empty plastic cup and gave it a little shake. I paused not believing what I was seeing. This guy, who had been sleeping for the past few hours while his teammates were out scaling the sides of Prospect Mountain, was asking me to fill up his water cup for him so he wouldn't have to crawl out of his bivy sack. I turned and looked at Britany in disbelief. All we could do was laugh. It was a laugh of desperation, but it kept my reaction in check, and I was able to walk over to him, take his cup, fill it at the water fountain and return it to him without pouring it on his head. Small victories.

Becky returned to the lodge after less than an hour. She had had a small goof on the same CP I had that was housed in the culvert. I had given her a heads up on that one to not overthink it and that it was a pretty easy find. In the dark of the night, and with the culvert obviously blocking the reflection of the flag, it had proved to be a little trickier than I had suggested. Otherwise, it sounded like she had done really well and efficiently. It was getting late and we decided we would only claim ownership over two of the orienteering courses that evening. 

Our next goal was to transition for the final bike leg of the race. The deal with our time penalty was that we had to completely stop and sit at a table for the allotted timeframe. I figured we would be able to sleep and eat for that time, perhaps even change clothes and use the bathroom. I was mistaken. We woke Dan up and all headed out into the dark to build our bikes and pack our boxes. I really think we finished this in record time. By 10:45 we were back in the lodge to check in for our penalty. I had left most of my stuff sitting at the table we had claimed earlier, thinking we would just be floating around the lodge and still able to putter about. Jim had other plans for us. 

Initially we were pointed to 4 chairs set up along a wall and told to sit. He called the ARWS ref to clarify what was to be done. The ref was already asleep somewhere and slightly groggy when Jim spoke to him but was able to relay that we needed to sit at a table where we could not get up, go to the bathroom, or go near our gear for the full two hours. I had left my food, shoes, and remaining gear at our other table. Dang it. We were guided to a four-top table and told to sit together. We were not allowed to get up, move, or look at maps. Jim looked at his watch and set a two hour timer. He told us to keep an eye on the time just in case he got caught up with TA happenings. It was 10:50.

Within a few minutes we all had our heads on the table. Within ten minutes Dan had left his seat and was laying on the floor under the table. I guess the rules stated we couldn't leave the table, and he was still kinda at the table. Over the next 1.5 hours I listened to other teams chatting, Patty and Jim repeatedly explaining the o-courses to arriving teams, and Dan snore. I know I fell asleep off and on because I kept doing that sleep-jerk-twitch thing you do when your body is overly exhausted. At one point I heard Glen Lewis return from the long-hard course and comment on how tricky the nav was. Ha! Validation. 

At one point Jim looked over and only saw two of us at the table. He suddenly realized he had a fugitive on the loose and began scurrying around the lodge looking for his escaped convict! Eventually he realized Dan had just bent the rules ever so slightly, but he was still "at the table." Multiple other teams kept looking at us, pitying our plight of having to sit in hard wooden chairs for such a long period of time. But honestly, those hours of rest were a blessing in disguise. 

Toward the end of our penalty. Becky startled herself awake and twitched so violently it woke me up too. She realized our passport was in her shorts, which she had changed out of and put in her bike box, which could possibly already be on the truck or even heading back to North Adams! We waved Patty over and explained our dilemma. She wasn't sure what our options were, so she waved over Jim. They came through for us and decided if Jim went with Becky, to ensure all she did at her box was retrieve the passport, then no rules would be broken. He took this very seriously and stood right next to Becky as she dug through her bike box. She even had him hold a few things while she clamored for the precious passport. 

At 12:50 on the dot, I called out to Jim that our two hours were up and he valiantly agreed to let us go from our prison-table. We jumped into action, collected our gear, used the bathroom and bundled up for the final upcoming 20-mile ride that Brent had repeatedly told teams, "Not to underestimate."

Endless Mountains 2026 Stage G

Green Mountain National Forest

0/6 Mandatories

0/6 Optionals 

Coming out of the TA, we turned west and began our hike on a hard packed gravel road. Previously in the race, this section of roadway had been deemed off limits, and the only option to get to its far side was to bushwhack deep into the mountains and marshes of the Green Mountains National Forest. I'm not sure what changed, but we were so thankful to be able to simply put one mindless foot in front of the other on this roadway labeled on the map as Corridor Trail. 

We paused at the first river crossing we came upon to refill our water supply. It was the heat of the day, and we knew we would be sweating on this upcoming trek, so we took at least 10 minutes to drink deeply and fill all our bladders and bottles prior to setting off further down the road. Many other teams were also pausing at the river to do the same. 

We returned to the route and continued on, ping-ponging with a handful of other teams. While walking on a flat surface is easy and faster than a trail, the unvaried steps begin to wear on your feet much faster than uneven terrain. Since this was our last big hike of the race, and we had all just primped and bandaged our tootsies at the TA, we didn't need to stop to tend to our paws. We kept a steady, albite slow, pace on that roadway for a few kilometers before we needed to start paying closer attention for CP possibilities. 

Becky and I had returned to our desire for at least a few checkpoints on this stage. Stage F had been a total wash, and while I don't regret our bypassing of points on that leg, I was not wanting to blindly pass all options from here on out. When we had been looking at options on the map at TA 6, we had set our sights on CP 67 through 71, with the caveat that we wanted to arrive to TA 7 before dark so as to begin the o-courses with some daylight. The pace we were walking at made it obvious within the first hour that we would not have time for all five points. 

Becky suggested we pick one of the first three points to go for and leave the other two untouched. Dan was all for leaving every single point behind but agreed to the plan. CP 68 was out of the running due to its location furthest from our route. 67 looked as though it was directly on a trail, and CP 69 was located closer to Corridor Trail. but up a reentrant and nestled in a saddle. I had thought 69 was the better option, but the appearance of simply following a trail did have its perks, as Becky pointed out. I had to agree, and we set our sights on CP 67. 

While we weren't walking like zombies, we were happy to not have to think too hard for points. We spotted a well-trodden path to our left and Becky and I veered from the road to inspect its direction. After a few minutes of investigating, we realized the direction of travel for earlier teams was coming from the woods and not into the woods, so we deduced the path was made by teams coming from further reaches of the forest where optional points were located. Not our bag, baby. Becky made the comment "Our trail is going to just magically appear in front of us, and we will immediately know it's the right one." Speak it into existence sista!

It worked! Within a few minutes we saw a man-made rock blockade to our left and an obvious trail beyond. I assume it was the national park's attempt to deter ATVs from taking the trail and mangling it up. Becky and I climbed over to confirm it did in fact continue on as a trail before Dan would crawl over the wall. Once we were all on the other side of the blockade, we followed a fresh path of travel forded by leading teams. It was too good to be true. If all we had to do was follow the path of smashed vegetation, we would hit CP 67 without a hitch. Lazy. We were being lazy. 

Not only were we following someone else's route, but we were doing it without confirming much. We didn't keep an eye on our compasses, we weren't pace counting, and we weren't thumbing the map. We were really just human lemmings, marching on without any thought. And it bit us in the butt. About a quarter mile in, Dan had had enough and found a log to sit on to wait for our return. Becky and I continued on, chatting and mindlessly lemming it up. Eventually the smashed vegetation stopped completely. It had faded a few times along the way, but we had been able to spot another bent weed or broken plant just a few feet ahead and kept on. Our luck had run out though. And we weren't even sure where along that "trail" we were. Nothing to do but go back to Dan. Had he been with us, it would have been easier to just shoot north back to Corridor Trail, but we couldn't leave him out in the woods... right? NO! I promise we went back for him.

Returning along the same path proved to be harder than expected, and we ended up following another path that veered southwest from the original trail we had been on. It took us a few minutes before we realized we were in unfamiliar territory. We began to worry we had really goofed and that we weren't going to find our way back to Dan, or the CP, or the road. We were spiraling in our doomsday thinking. We paused, took a compass bearing, and eventually righted ourselves back onto our original route back to Dan. Becky had even had the awesome-boy scout forethought to leave a small twig hanging from a branch to help confirm our whereabouts when we had been heading out from Dan. She squealed when she spotted her beacon of confirmation, and we were able to leave our feelings of doom behind us. 

We reconnected with Dan and continued on the path back to the main road. It was the first CP we had gone for and not been able to punch. It sucked, but we had learned from it. Never-ever-ever be a mindless lemming. By the time we had our feet back on the main road, we realized we were not going to add any points to our standing on that section of the route. I still had hope for the two CPs tucked in the trail systems of Prospect Mountain further along our route. 

The main road turned into a rutted and steep ATV route as we trudged on. We stopped for a snack just after passing Team Over the Hill, who had Dan's teammate from last year, Len. Every time we had passed or come in contact with that team there had been an uncomfortable silence between Len and Dan. Apparently, they hadn't spoken since crossing the finish line last year. I have always enjoyed Len and his quirkiness, so I still made conversation with them whenever we saw them and had planned to do the same when they passed us while we sat and snacked. They never came. I assume we were in the vicinity of CP 69 and they had scaled the reentrant while we stuffed our faces. 

After another kilometer of decent from the elevation of Corridor Trail, we converged with Dunville Hollow Trail and made a hard right to the north toward TA 7 and Prospect Mountain. We assumed we would be gaining a bunch of elevation on this trail but were happy to find that it was a more undulating route with a few uphills but much more downhills than we had thought we would be blessed with. 

We passed a few primitive campsites along this roadway, and I found myself envious of the laughter and laid-back fun those campers were having. We were simply putting one foot in front of the other, ticking off landmarks on our way to a cross-country ski trail called Whistlepig, which would lead us to CP 70. When we came to that intersection Dan easily convinced Backy and me to drop that point and subsequently CP 71 in favor of just straight shooting into the TA. This was becoming yet another entire stage of the race we would "complete" without a single point to show for it. Desperate times call for desperate measures, but it was kinda getting to me that we were dropping so, so, so much of the course. 

We started to discuss the plans for the upcoming o-course at Prospect Mountain Cross Country Ski Resort. There were to be four different orienteering courses to be completed individually by team members. Each completed course would grant teams one mandatory point. The options were dubbed as "Short-Easy, Long-Easy, Short-Hard, and Long-Hard." There was no rule for who did what, but it was expected that each team member would do at least one. Since we had three team members but there were four courses, one of us would have to do two courses. As expected, Dan opted for the Short-Easy. I had been looking forward to this challenge, so I had planned to either do the Long-Hard, or both the Long Easy and Short Hard. We discussed our options as we merged onto Route 9 and made our final ascent to the ski resort that housed TA 7.

Trekking along the roadway I started to notice familiar sights. I became 100% sure I had been on this exact road at some point in my life. I eventually realized I had, in fact, come past here multiple times on my way to Mount Snow in my youth on ski trips with my family. It gave me a blast of happiness to have a glimmer of the real world and familiarity, no matter how fleeting it was. I reveled in the memories of skiing with my dad for just a few minutes until we were on the property of the ski resort. We entered the ski lodge with feelings of unfamiliarity and awe. I couldn't remember the last time we were in an actual building, and it felt foreign. Four full days of racing had made us into feral animals who felt uncomfortable and caged in an enclosed structure. I love how racing changes us, for better or worse.

Endless Mountains 2026 Stage F

Mount Snow, Deerfield Ridge, Wilmington, Hogback Mountain, Mollystark State Park, Harriman Reservoir. (All replaced with a straight shot of mercy)

0/9 Mandatories

0/21 Optionals 

The rain continued the whole night. I was actually really thankful for the constant pattering on the tent walls that muffled all the normal sounds that can keep you awake while resting at a TA. I probably slept deeper and harder in those hours than I had all week. The only things that woke me every hour were the tilted angle that caused me to constantly slide down and nearly off my sleeping pad, and the occasional drop of water that inevitably comes through to drip right on your forehead when you sleep in a tent while its raining. In an attempt to avoid as much excess pack weight as possible, and with the assurance he is totally fine without one, Dan had chosen not to bring a sleeping pad. While this may have been fine last year when the temperatures during the race had repeatedly reached record highs, this year was proving to be a bit colder and he spent a majority of the night shivering next to Becky. 

At one point during the night, race staff was coming around asking if any teams were interested in dropping and if they needed a ride back to North Adams. I hadn't heard that exchange, but I did wake up to Dan and Becky discussing something. I asked what they were talking about, and I don't recall if they responded and I just didn't understand them, or if no one responded and I just gave up trying to figure out what was going on, but I rolled over and went back to sleep for another hour or so. 

Eventually the morning light poked us awake and we realized the rain had stopped. We sat in the tent discussing our options for another few minutes before we had a game plan. None of us wanted to drop. A decent night rest, sunlight, and a stop to the rain gave us all a renewed zest for continuing on. The upcoming bike stage was supposed to be a long and elevation filled endeavor. Dan still wasn't keen on riding for extended distances, and Becky and I had lost our fiery resolve to push for more points. We decided that whatever the bare minimum was to be considered an official finisher is what we were going for. Dan had not slept well with all his shivering, so he remained in the tent while Becky and I emerged. 

I looked around the TA in the morning light and realized we were far from the only bums who hunkered down for the night. We were also not alone in our decision to scrape off any extra "fluff" from this upcoming bike leg. Brent was understanding of everyone's evening plight in the torrential rains, and was busy trying to decide what could be done to shorten stage F. He was currently deep in discussions with the ARWS ref trying to hatch a plan. He promised he would let me know what they decided on as soon as they decided. 

I took the chance to use the bathroom and start taking inventory of our water logged and scattered gear. We had actually managed to keep some semblance of organization to our stuff, so Becky and I got to work. We deflated the packrafts, wiped them down as best we could, rolled them up and returned them to the packraft bag. We collected all the paddles, PFDs, and other rafting gear, found our TA 5 bags, and hauled all 3 bike boxes over to our site. Suddenly, I saw something that completely altered my mood. The sun was popping out from behind the clouds and casting golden speckled rays of warmth between the leaves of the surrounding trees. I paused in a beam of sunlight and let it warm me. It was going to be alright. Actually, it was gonna be great. 

Brent was making rounds to all the racers, giving them their options. We scooted over to a group of teams listening intently. While the option was not there for us to just b-line directly back to North Adams, and honestly, I'm now VERY thankful that wasn't an option, Brent had given us the choice to take a very direct road route to TA 6. We wouldn't have the chance for any of the mandatory points, and we would only really come even remotely close to one optional CP, but we were cutting off miles and miles of stage F. The route wasn't even on any of our maps, so he had a hand drawn map that was being passed around and copied by plenty of other teams with the same mindset as us. Part of me was sad to be missing this stage. It was the only part of the course that I had some local knowledge of from having raced with Chris in GMARA's Hard Fall in 2024. That race had covered area all around Mount Snow and Wilmington, which would be where we would have headed had we not taken Brent's short course route. 

Obviously, Dan was all for this option, and Becky and I had to agree, with our lost hours here at TA 5, we were in need to make up some time. I copied down the map and we continued on getting ourselves organized and ready for biking. B&Z were still camped out next to us, and also slowly getting themselves together. They asked if we would be interested in linking up for the ride and I yipped out a "TOTALLY!" without a pause. Dan, however, hinted that it wouldn't work well since we had a much slower bike pace than them. They assured us that they would happily go whatever pace we had. I so wanted for them to join us. I really enjoy them and their humor, but it was obvious Dan didn't have an interest in it. We all continued putting our bikes together and cleaning up our gear. 

As expected, a bunch of my gear was still drenched from the overnight rains. I stuffed all my wet clothes from the night before into a ziplock bag and threw them into the paddle bag, but I needed my rain coat and pants as mandatory gear. We didn't have enough time for the sun to dry them efficiently, so I took matters into my own hands and waved them around like a flag girl in the color guard of a small town parade. Becky joined with me for a few moments of silly, lighthearted playfulness and with that, my outlook on the day, and race, returned to one of joy and thankfulness. Right around that same time, a volunteer came up to us with our trail mail from the tracking site. We smiled and giggled at the encouraging words from our friends and family. It reminded me that we were so lucky and fortunate to be right there, right then.

Once we were all bundled up and perched on our bikes with bags and boxes returned to the Uhaul, we went to check out of the TA. Brent apologized for the "crudeness" of the hand drawn map, but we assured him it was everything we needed and more. All we needed to do was mindlessly follow the road out until we hit blacktop. If we got lost between here and there, we would have been trying to get turned around. We rode out of the TA, and I waved at B&Z encouraging them to catch up to us quickly!

As unexpected as it was, the initial few miles of that go-around bike leg were my favorite biked miles of the entire race. We were on a hard packed gravel road that climbed and descended alongside a beautiful and fast moving river. Becky and I drooled over the beautiful rapids and hydraulics peppered all along it's flowing route. I wondered aloud why that awesome looking waterway wasn't part of the course for the race, and Becky astutely stated the river probably only looked so perfect because of the inundation of rains we had the night before. Good point.  Well, if we couldn't raft it, at least we got to enjoy watching it wind along our route with mountains and valleys hugging it's boarders.

At one point the view was so picturesque I couldn't help myself. I asked Dan to record the sights with his go-pro. He didn't feel up to following my requested landscape encompassing directions, so he handed me the little device and told me to do whatever I wanted. I dropped my bike and walked back a few hundred yards to capture the entire bend in the river along with the beautiful sun soaked mountains in the distance. It was one of the most stunning views I've been blessed to encounter, so I took an extended video. As I was walking back to them, Dan and Becky were talking and facing the opposite direction, so I took the opportunity to ever so not politely adjust my bike shorts that were riding up in places where they had no business hanging out. As luck would have it, just as I completed this crude task, I heard the rumble of tires coming up behind us. I had apparently picked the exact time 4 vehicles, heavily laden with men of various ages, were riding upon us to dig my shorts out of my butt. Awesome. All I could do was laugh and wave an apology as they rode by.

The national forest road eventually ended and dropped us onto a busy multilane roadway. There was a shoulder, thankfully, but the grade of the road shot up precariously to our right. I crossed my fingers that we were going to go left, but after just glancing at Brent's map, I realized we had to go right. Right. We tried to stay in the saddle as long as possible, but it didn't last long. Soon enough we had to stop to not only shed layers of clothes, but give Dan a moment to catch up. At that very moment B&Z came upon us. I hoped they would stop and join us, but I guess they picked up what Dan was putting down and they kept trucking up the hill.

The road made a sweeping turn to the left as the grade remained steep and daunting. As we continued up, the shoulder became more and more narrow, to the point there was no space between the white thick line of the road and the dented and gnarled guardrail to our right. Many many many vehicles had been deflected from the cliff edge that lined the side of the road by that guardrail. And there we were, pushing our bikes up right alongside that guardrail as big box trucks, semi trucks, and personal vehicles were shooting up the road with no shoulder. What could go wrong?! Thankfully, nothing went wrong. Other than Dan choosing to stop for a breather a few too many times in that precarious road section for my comfort. But as I said, nothing went wrong.

We were treated to a short downhill section (with a shoulder!) that was short lived, and again we were faced with another steep and narrow uphill. Brent had given us fair warning about the less than ideal road conditions on this shortcut, so we couldn't balk. Prior to facing this next uphill, we pulled over to the side of the road and took a snack break. We all realized that while we had banked a refreshing amount of rest at the last TA, none of us had really eaten very well over the past 12 hours. I took in a few handfuls of gummy bears and shared them with Dan while we watched multiple other teams pass by us on the same route. It made us feel better to know we were far from the only teams short coursing this stage. 

After a few more uphills and a whole lot of super fast and furious downhills, we came to a road intersection where we could turn off to grab the sole optional CP we could claim on this go around. F21 appeared to be just off of a dead end road to our left. We pulled into a small gravel lot just at the base of that dead end road and were charged at by a pack of pudgy and perturbed Labrador Retrievers. We quickly searched for the owners of these hounds and saw a few locals scurrying from the porch of a nearby house. They called out "just put your hands up and they won't bite!" So there we stood, hands in the air like a trio of convicts caught in a crime, as we were sniffed and barked at by the defensive dogs. The eyebrow ring from the older lady glinted in the sunlight as she explained the dogs were just a little territorial and didn't like strangers. Fair enough, we did come charging into their turf fast and unannounced. We told her we were looking for a dead end road in that exact area. Her adult son told us the road just behind them was a dead end, but it was private property, as he stared at us as if insinuating that private property was not to be trespassed upon by the likes of these three filthy and strange bicyclists that stood before him. We paused, looking past them at the road signage that eluded to a public road. There was an awkward pause as we realized he was not being truthful, but in his body language as well as the continued threats from the dogs, we were forced to decide that CP was not worth whatever issue we would cause by plowing past this scenario. We thanked them and made a u-turn back to the roadway. 

Becky and I looked at the race maps we had returned to while Dan sat on a guardrail and did some sort of pack adjusting. All that stood between us and TA 6 was a relatively flat and short road that would come to triangular intersection, and a right hand turn onto one last road into the TA. We shot off down the road as I counted off other roads to our right. We came to where I thought we needed to turn off, but neither Dan nor Becky agreed. Becky noted that the geographical features in the distance didn't line up with what should be seen from the map. Dan adamantly agreed. I could see what she was saying, but my gut still said we needed to turn off. We crossed a bridge and I looked down the next road on our right and saw that it connected to the previous road. It was a triangular intersection. It HAD to be what we were looking for. We stopped and took in all the clues before us and realized, it was in fact where we needed to turn. Becky was not alone in her thought process though. We later learned that B&Z had also not thought it was the correct turn off, but they had continued on up another steep incline before realizing the error of their ways. At least we had avoided that!

We rode the dirt road into TA 6 which was erected amidst another logging field of destruction and zero shade. The ever-fantastic volunteer crew cheered our arrival and after giving instructions for the TA, let us know piping hot grilled cheese sandwiches would be hand delivered to us within minutes. So, so, so awesome! We located our bike boxes and gear bins. I voted we move into the opening far to our left where B&Z had set up, but the thought of hauling all our gear wasn't tempting to my teammates, so we set up our site right where we were. Fragile flowers was transitioning right next to us, obviously one teammate short. I asked Donna and Anna if Olga was ok, and they assured me she didn't drop because of an injury and that all was well. 

I opened my box and bin and went into transitioning as efficiently as I had up to that point. While rummaging through my bin my hand grazed a cool metal cylinder under a bag. I can't describe the amount of excitement the discovery of that seltzer water gave me. I was nearly giddy as I cracked it open. The sound also grabbed the attention of everyone in earshot. The searing sun and heat of the day just added to the allure of that carbonated treat. Anna and Donna both voiced their desire for just such a treat, and while I didn't have more cans, I quickly offered to share my lime flavored "fuzzy water" with them. Anna eagerly accepted the offer and together we slammed that can in less than a minute. 

The remainder of the time we spent in the TA was devoted to blister management, sunblock and body lube slathering, and mapping out our upcoming trek leg. By the time we checked out of the TA we realized it was our fastest transition to date with a time of less than 75 minutes. Hey, ya gotta start somewhere. 

Endless Mountains 2026 Stage E

 Somerset Reservoir

5/7 Mandatories

1/6 Optionals

Pulling in to TA 4 was a relief. We had just finished one heck of a bike stage and we were ready to sit on our butts both in the TA and in the packrafts on the upcoming leg of the race. After getting the scoop on the logistics of the TA from a crew of familiar faces, we found our bike boxes and pulled them to the back edge of the parking lot. The sun was absolutely scorching in the afternoon sky and there was really no shade to be had in the clearing. Looking around, many other teams were feeling the heat of the day. One guy had constructed a literal loin cloth out of t-shirts and twine and was Tarzan-ing it while he went through his tasks. Becky and I both couldn't help but admire his ingenuity.

I can not in any way claim to be an organized transition-er. Within minutes it looked like both my pack and bike box had thrown up all their contents in a 5 foot radius around me. Becky and Dan were both far less ADHD-like in their motions. I inhaled another homemade cold soak oatmeal and sat on the matt I had brilliantly stored in my bike box. As we went through the steps of breaking down our bikes and preparing for the next leg of the race we took turns literally hiding under the flaps of our bike boxes for the tiniest bit of shade. 

We checked out of the TA and began the hike down to a campground on a peninsula that separated us from the Somerset Reservoir. We continued on and came to a small loop of campsites. The signs pointed to multiple amenities within the campground, and we headed south toward the "West Trail." We came upon two middle aged gentlemen who were interested in our plans with such large packs, rafts, and paddles strapped to us. We explained AR and packrafting as concisely as possible and satisfied their curiosity. 

The trails were perfectly maintained... until they weren't. Like at all. Our easy stroll dropped us out into a large open area of wooded devastation. A huge and chaotic logging field without any semblance of trail lay before us. There was a slight clearing in the carnage of trees to our left, so we began to head that way. Before long, we started to second guess our route. Another team came along and looked equally aghast at the obviously unexpected sight. 

Looking at the map, I noted that there was a high point off the "trail" to the left and CP 50 was located on a further off high point to the south. Why not head to the highest point I could see, shoot a bearing to the next high point and follow my compass? The scale on the map was 1:24000, so the points couldn't be too far apart, right? While Becky and Dan discussed options with the other team, I started following a bearing through the thick of the fallen and semi-demolished trees. As I scurried over, under, and around the chaotic clearing, Becky and Dan began to form a plan totally separate from what I was working on. As I made my way to the far side of the clearing they began to call for me to return to them. I didn't see any obvious high ground through the woods as I had expected to in my optimism of my plan, so I scurried back to them as fast as I could through the dense destruction. 

They had talked with a few other teams who had all passed by in my absence. The general consensus was that we needed to follow the slight "path" through all the fallen trees and into another clearing of sorts. We began fording the route behind a few other teams. There were obstacles everywhere. Fallen and broken trees, bogs of sloppy mud, and uneven ground everywhere. Dan had a respectable tumble at one point, but righted himself and continued on. Ahead of us there was a cackle of teams all bouncing ideas off each other on what the best plan of attack would be. Half seemed to decided on continuing on while the other half came trudging back toward us with the intention to return to the last bit of obvious trail and try a totally different direction. We were at an impasse. Neither option seemed good. I suggested we continue on the bearing that I had started following. I had eyed an obvious point on the wood line when they had called me back that we could pick up from. Becky hesitantly agreed, and Dan just resolved himself to misery no matter what option we went with. 

We clambered our way back to my heading and bushwhacked into the untouched woods for a few meters before another wide open area of sloppily timbered land lay before us. I have to admit, I was loosing confidence in my plan at this time. While I knew the scale of this map was much more zoomed in that our last leg, I didn't think there should have been this much distance between the two high grounds. Still, what other options did we have? Becky called out an idea to simply go west from our current location, hope we hit the distant section of the West trail we had wondered from, give up on CP 50, and hit the reservoir in the western side of the peninsula we were trekking down. It was possible, certainly, and I'm not sure why we didn't go with that plan, but we ended up deciding to keep going with my heading. 

We made our way through that next "clearing" and back into the woods where it was blessedly easier to trek. Through a series of different plans of attack, Becky and I unexpectantly stumbled upon an obvious trail. After confirming the headings on the trail, we discovered we had picked back up on the original section of the West Trail we had been following before the logging field debacles! Having left Dan at a random rock in the woods, we knew we couldn't wonder too far off. We started jogging down this path, hoping it would come to a T and CP 50 would be clearly located in front of us. Nope. The trail died off and we began peering through the woods for any sign of correlation with what we saw on the map. We did find an obvious "high ground, rocks" which was the clue for CP 50, but no CP 50. Another team came storming through. Becky asked for their opinion on where we were, and one of the members began to interact with us, but the obvious leader of their crew voiced his displeasure at giving away any help, and they continued on without conferring further with us. Sheesh. Someone is taking this a little too seriously. 

Without a clear idea of exactly where we were, and having departed a little further from Dan than we should have, we returned to the trail and eventually made our way back to Dan, who was still happily sitting on that rock in the middle of the woods. However, in our absence, he had taken the initiative and really focused on the map. He pointed out where he was nearly certain we were located, and in combination of the land feature we had just seen, Becky was nearly 100% confident she knew where we were and how to get to CP 50. We bushwhacked back to the trail and continued on due south where the trail died off. As we climbed through the brush, we upset a momma bird who squawked and flapped aggressively as she flew off in an attempt to distract us from her nest. No worries momma bird, we're not after your babies, and that heart attack you nearly caused us was totally unnecessary.

After a few hundred meters I quite literally stumbled upon another trail, this one with obvious blue blazes painted every so often on trees. It didn't make any sense to me, but it made Becky super excited and assured that we were dang close to CP 50. She instructed me to maintain a heading due south and that we would find the CP within a minute or two of further bushwhacking. Sorcery. There it was. I don't know how we did it, but there it was. Becky congratulated me on the find, but I absolutely could not take credit for it, she was the real navigator on that one. She assured me it was my persistence that lead us to the site. I'm going to say it was a beautiful combination of our abilities that earned us that punch. 

After returning to the trail and Dan, we chose to head due east toward the inlet of water that housed CP E1. Not that we were planning to really put an effort into finding that CP, but it was the closest spot where we could set off in our pack rafts. We made it down the dozens of feet of elevation and to the water's edge quickly enough and set to inflating our rafts.

My raft was inflated and ready well before Dan and Becky were ready to hop in their boat, so I loaded up my pack, aligned my paddle, and literally plopped into the raft and pushed off into the clear waters of the inlet. I paddled to the left, just incase the CP was easily spotted and punchable. There were multiple obviously trampled routes through the marshy depths of the inlet, none of which called to me. So rather than slop through the tall reeds and deep mud, I decided to simply float and enjoy a cinnamon brown sugar poptart. Banging. The snacks and food I consume on these races are awful, but MAN. I do enjoy them.

As I was floating along and munching on my sugary confection, my attention was drawn to something wafting in the early evening breeze. You gotta be kidding me. There, directly in my line of sight was CP E1. Well, why not? I paddled over to the water's edge, held my remaining poptart in my teeth, and climbed out and over to punch the single optional CP we had hit since Fort Ticonderoga. By the time I had returned to my packraft, Dan and Becky had themselves situated and paddling toward me. We set our sights on CP 51 and the open waters of the reservoir. 

Coming around the bend in the inlet we could see the island that held our next goal. Dan paused in his paddling, asking for a moment to eat some food and rest. Since I had just consumed my high calorie snack and had a chance to rest while they tinkered, I was not in need of the break. With the sunlight behind the clouds quickly fading, I wanted to hit as many of the upcoming points along this paddle as we could before dark. I told them to take their time, and meet me at the island when they had finished their break. 

I paddled strong to the island, hopped out and quickly spotted CP 51. Returning to my vessel, Dan and Becky had almost caught up with me. We had decided to only go for the eastern points along the reservoir, so I continued on to CP 53. I was thankful to be manning my own boat and maintained a small lead on Dan and Becky. While they chatted happily together, I paddled quickly and efficiently to the next 3 points. It was good for all of us. I needed a little time alone to push myself and they needed some time to just be friends and enjoy each other's company while comfortably paddling along at an easy pace. The sun was setting quickly, and by the time I punched CP56 it was completely dark out. I threw around the idea of shooting across the reservoir and hitting CP 55, but the pitch black night and lack of points of reference would have made it hard to home in directly to the point. We talked for a minute, floating in the darkness, trying to decide our plan. I had worn myself out a little from my aggressive paddling and was ready to hand off responsibility for our travel to them. I suggested they navigate to the TA and I would just follow behind. 

We began our pitch-black paddling as the rain began to sprinkle. I wasn't sure if it was splashes from their paddles or actual rain so I called out "Is it raining?" Dan affirmed my suspicions. The cool of the night was settling in, so I knew it would be smart to stop and dawn my raincoat. I paused in my paddling, dug through my pack, and pulled out my raincoat. By the time I had my coat on, my pack repositioned, and my paddle in my hands, they had paddled off into the far distance. Well dang. I could only make out the tiny dots of their glow sticks. It was around this time that Becky later admitted she was actively hallucinating and unsure who had asked if it was raining and also unsure if she or anyone had responded. Sleep monsters are a wild and crazy thing.

 I paddled hard trying to catch back up as the rain began to fall in earnest. It rained harder and harder as I paddled harder and harder. By the time I was within earshot of them we were in a torrential downpour with winds and waves increasing by the minute. I'm not a nervous nelly, but I was ready to be off that open water and in the safety of the TA.

We docked where all the headlamps and flashlights were throwing beacons of hope from. As we exited our boats the reality of the situation dawned on me. There was no sign of the rain abating, and we were literally drenched in the cold rain of the night. We pulled our packrafts up to the boat ramp where the TA was set up under two small pop up canopies. There wasn't nearly enough room for even one team to hide under their protection. How the heck were we going to get ourselves together for the upcoming bike leg, in the dark and stormy night?

One thing at a time. We checked in, asked if we were allowed to camp out at this TA, and I hatched a plan. Dan was obsessively fretting over Becky and her current state of shivering, to the point where Becky exclaimed, "Calm down! I'm fine!" I left the two of them to huddle under the second canopy where Bruce was saving lives heating up water for racers. I'm not being dramatic. I really think he did save a few people that cold evening by providing an unplanned treat of hot water for meals and drinks. I walked around the perimeter of the parking lot looking for an open and relatively flat spot where we could set up our tent. In the far corner I spotted the best option there was. I asked the team who was directly next to the site I was eyeing if they were cool with me setting up next to them. I immediately recognized the voices from B&Z. It elated me to see them again, even in their current stare of misery. Their individual Bivy tents and all their gear lay in puddles of cold mud. They were trying to salvage what they could under a makeshift tarp tent. I have to admit, their efforts appeared totally futile. But I had my own dilemma to deal with. 

I returned to Dan and Becky and explained my plan. Two of us would hold up the tent fly while the third would construct the tent as carefully and dry as possible underneath. Once the tent was assembled, we would one by one, go under the vestibule, change out of our sopping wet clothes and into dry clean clothes before we entered the tent. No one would leave the shelter of the tent again until the rain stopped in an attempt to keep everything as clean and dry as possible within the confines of our tiny structure of reprieve. They agreed to the plan, and we headed over to the spot I had found. I have to admit, I may have become a slight bit drill sergeant-y in the hour that followed. But within a few minutes our tent was constructed, our gear was organized as it was going to get in the rain, and Becky began the process of changing into blessed dry clothes and entered the tent. 

While they were going through the motions of shedding the cold wet shells and wrapping themselves in clean dry clothing, I went to the nearby creek and filled all our filter bottles, arranged the packrafts out of the way of other racers, and passed forgotten items under the vestibule. Finally it was my turn to get dry. Modesty is a difficult thing in just such a situation, but I tried my best to keep my backside and lady bits from flashing too blatantly to my teammates. Once I entered the tent, I was sufficiently warmed up and unwilling to try to squeegee into my leggings until the remaining moisture on my legs had a chance to evaporate. 

We collectively began to calm down from the chaos of the situation, and eased into an enjoyable, albite cramped, evening in the tent together. There was no point in going back out into the rain until the skies cleared. While we were sitting dry and warm in our tent, we could hear other teams walking to and fro through the pouring rain, trying to figure out how the heck to get out of the TA. In the dark and rain, none of the trails on the map were making sense to teams. This just reaffirmed our decision to hunker down and get a good sleep while the rain rain rain came down down down. 

 

Endless Mountains 2026 Stage D

Dorset Marble Quarry, Freedly Quarry

4/12 Mandatories

0/11 Optionals 

The TA was perfectly organized and blessedly empty. We came around the back of the lot to the TA tent and were met with smiling faces and offers of free food. What more could we ask for?! Before we could put in our order for ramen versus oatmeal, we had to listen to a few course updates and TA logistics. One instruction caught my attention, and it wasn't because of anything pressing about the course or maps. It was a term I had never heard before but from hence forth will always remind me of Jim and his wonderfully English accent. "The Long Drop" was located back by the trailhead. The long what? What did we walk past when we came out of the trail? A gate, a river crossing, a bathroo...... WHAT?! I get it! And in my delirium I found it to be hilarious. 

After chuckling for a few moments, and putting our food orders in, we found our bike boxes and bins and pulled them over to the edge of the lot. The sun was behind a cloud at the moment, so we thought we had set up shop in a perfect little nook. After being asked to squeeze further over to the side so more teams could fit in the narrow area, and then being asked to edge back against the wood line to not block cars in, we finally settled into our little zone of reprieve. 

B&Z were already there and had nearly finished transitioning by the time we opened our boxes up. I wanted to chat with them longer, but standing out in the now blazing sun was brutal. Britany did have a chance to tell me they were on the proverbial struggle bus and had resorted to the bear minimum of points to keep moving forward. I silently said a little prayer for them and desperately wished we could link up and pal through the rest of the course. They were out of the TA well before we were even close to having our bikes assembled. 

One of the volunteers came over and delivered our coveted starchy and salty snacks. We sat in the minimal shade and inhaled our treats before gradually becoming fully functioning bike mechanics again. I had my bike assembled relatively quickly, was given a crash course in chain lubrication, and I pumped my tires back up to pressure. Becky and Dan also went through the usual routine of bike assembly without issue.

While we had had a chance to sit for a few minutes, eat, assemble our bikes and begin the process of dressing and repacking our gear, Team VERT and I believe Team Mercators, both front of the pack crews, had come and went from the TA. Their intentional flow and purposeful routine was impressive to watch. Minutes add up in these races, and I could see how their practiced transitioning was a discipline in and of itself. We were not disciplined, or even purposeful, but we were proficient enough to get in and out in less than the 2 hours Dan had allotted for our transitioning timeframe. 

While we were packing up our bins and boxes, the ARWS ref came over and stuck his camera in our faces asking us to comment in three words or less how the race was going/how we felt. Dan said "Irritatingly Optimistic", Becky stated "I feel great", and I listed "Humbled, thankful, and tired." All totally valid answers. 

The clouds had completely moved away and we were baking in the afternoon sun while we finished up our work. After repacking everything that needed packing and returning our bins and boxes to the waiting UHaul, we scooted over to the far side of the parking lot to peer over our maps in the blessed shade. We plopped down in an open spot in front of a super kind and cheerful Canadian Team with the most beautifully decorated bike boxes. They promised us we would not be in their way sitting and mapping so close to them. Becky and I pulled out our maps and Dan, well, he stretched out and closed his eyes laying flat on the pavement. Becky and I looked at each other and sighed. 

Together, Becky and I debated our plans. This stage held two different quarry stops, a small optional bike park section, as well as an additional embedded trek and bike section. Becky had been drooling over the cliff jumping at the Dorset Marble quarry since the prerace briefing, and I was looking forward to the small challenge at the Freedly quarry. The optional bike park wasn't calling any of our names. This leg spanned the front and back of a 9x13 map as well as a 8x11 map, both at a 1:50000 scale, so there was a buttload of distance to cover. We planned out our route to the Dorset quarry and decided we would reevaluate there. 

We headed back to the TA tent to check out only to be told our gear check involved items at the very bottom of our packs. We groaned at the inconvenience of it, but procured the requested items and were given the green light to head out. Hopping on our bikes we look a left out of the parking lot and were faced with a quick climb up the narrow roadway. Thankfully it was just a short uphill that then dumped us out on a refreshingly long downhill route. As we were plummeting down the roadway I had to say another prayer that I had tightened, adjusted, and aligned everything properly at the the TA. If something were to go amiss on the mechanics of my bike, I was in for a hard and fast fall. Thankfully, everything held and as we neared the bottom of the mountain and slowed our speed Dan called out his similar concern. "I don't like to go so fast right after a TA." Valid, but we survived.

We came to an intersection where we would have to turn south, but a country store with the promise of food and carbonated beverages called us to turn north. We spent about 30 minutes there dining on fried food and huge sandwiches, all provided by Dan. The sandwich and Coke hit the spot better than the little cup of ramen from the TA. With bellies full and maps organized on our bike boards, we now headed south on Rt 7 in the late afternoon light. 

We remained on route 7 for approximately 12 km. Along that relatively flat and forgiving route, Dan had to stop multiple times for derriere discomfort. Not only was the saddle hurting his bum, but the alignment of the seat in proportion to the handle bars was causing him severe pain in his shoulders, forearms, and hips. He was miserably miserable. About halfway down this roadway, we stopped for another pack-off break. We were across from a fairgrounds that had a particularly welcoming looking portapotty along the roadside. Why not enjoy a seated go rather than having to hunker down in the woods? We dropped our bikes and Becky and I scurried over to the cleanest and most welcoming potty we had seen in days. I know, its kinda weird to be so excited over a toilet, but we had to find joy in the little things, too!

While we were stopped, a Vermont local pulled over and hopped out of his car in a blur of speed. He had seen Dan laying on the side of the road and was concerned we had been in an accident. What a kind and considerate man!! We assured him all was well enough and that there was no emergency to be had. After attempting a quick explanation of our situation and pouring our thanks onto him for his concern, he drove off.

While Dan continued to lay on the side of the road, Becky began to insist they swap seats. She really is someone I aspire to be like. Her willingness to suffer for other's sakes, as well as her unrelenting patience, was so admirable. Dan continued to decline, but she insisted, and I agreed it would probably help the whole team. He finally agreed and I assumed we were going to set up a bike shop on the side of route 7 in the fading evening light. Rather, he promised to do the swap at the quarry. There were still miles and miles of distance and feet and feet of elevation before we would arrive there. But, ok. 

I was counting gates and land features looking for our turn off to our next CP. When we had arrived to where I had thought our turn off to be, Becky called out a concern. While it made perfect sense to me at the time, Becky pointed out the turn off I had taken was one early from our needed right. It took me a second to see her point, but it was valid, and so we returned to the main road way and then turned right on the correct route. It jumped directly into a steep incline and we had to drop our gears all the way down to keep upright and moving forward. 

After a slight turn to the left, the road dropped away from the forgiving pavement and became a loose gravel ATV trail. Dan had to pause to catch his breath and again took a seat on the ground. He rummaged through his pack and pulled out multiple water bottles. Without a word he began dumping his supply of hydration in favor of a lighter pack. It seemed like a terrible idea to me. But he's a grown man and can make his own decisions. While he sat and recovered, I told Becky I was going to push ahead further to locate the CP we assumed would be at the crest of the next steep section of trail. Deep in a reentrant under a makeshift bridge, I punched CP 34. 

Dan and Becky arrived as I was returning to my bike and we crossed the bridge together, staring up the steeply graded trail. It was brutal. Loose rocks and a steep grade brought us to a snails pace. Dan was falling further and further behind. Becky and I knew our previous strategy of plowing to the hillcrests, dropping gear and returning to Dan was unsustainable. But we needed to do something. Together, Becky and I went 3 wide with the bikes, her pushing Dan's bike from the handle bars and me pushing from his seat. We climbed the trail connecting Route 7 and Dorset Hill Road slowly, but surely. 

We finally arrived to Dorest Hill Road and took a much needed breather. Looking at the maps, we needed to make our first right on this road and then follow a trail of sorts up to the challenge at the Dorset Quarry. We had Dan push his own bike for as long as he could, and then we again began pushing 3 wide. It was awkward and tiring, but I didn't want Becky to shoulder all that weight alone. I offered to take her pack and she continue to push 2 bikes. She actually really preferred this set up just as much as I did and we trudged up the roughly 2 kilometers and hundreds of feet of elevation to the quarry.

It was completely dark by the time we arrived to the quarry and the scale of the site was disorienting. We had a hand drawn map and 8 different mini flags to find amidst the sharp rocks, dripping walls, stagnant pools and menacing graffiti of the quarry. It took us finding the first flag to really orient ourselves to the scale and design of the map. As we headed toward our initial flag we somehow lost Dan. He had been right behind us, but by the time we crossed the first small pool of standing water and clambered up the first mound of loose and menacing chunks of rock, we had lost sight of him. We half heartedly called out for him, but knew he couldn't safely make the ominous routes within the quarry. With determination and a little excitement, we recorded all 8 letter codes from the small flags to earn the 1 point for the challenge. I honestly had a great time scurrying about the filthy ledges, rock piles, and caverns of the site, but later Becky admitted she hated the whole ordeal. Between the crummy hand drawn map and the exhaustion we were feeling, it didn't seem worth the effort for that one point. I had to agree it was a lot of effort and time for one stinkin point, but I can look back on the challenge and enjoy the memory.

We reconnected with Dan as we found the final 2 flags and then returned to our bikes. Going back down that trail went so much faster than the slog up. Becky encouraged us to ride as much as we could. I knew between my wiped out leg muscles and the accumulated exhaustion, my normally less than stellar mountain biking abilities were being stretched on that steep and rocky trail. Still, I refused to be the one to slow us down, so I held on for dear life and the three of us descended the trail with haste. Haste all the way up to the large rock I slammed into with my front tire which sent me sprawling onto my already compromised left shin and knee. Oy! That smarted. I took a second to get myself together and returned to my bike, much more cautious on the remaining few hundred meters of trail. 

When we returned to the hard packed Dorset Hill Road, we had a meeting of the minds. It was by this time around 10pm, the downhill ride had cooled us drastically, and our next goal was the cliff jumping at the Freedly Quarry. I had such mixed emotions about this challenge. Last summer I had jumped from a roughly 15 foot bridge in New York with my dear friend Andrea and a handful of our kids. It was terrifying but so satisfying to have overcome the fear of the jump. I didn't want to have any regrets on this race, but between the staggering 25ft final jump, the 50 degree waters, and the now plummeting evening temperatures, I really wanted no parts of the challenge. Teams would get 1 mandatory point for each cliff jump the entire team would perform. So if I sat it out, I would be costing the team 4 points! Ughhhhh. I hated the situation, but I knew it could be done. I would just have to put my half wet suit, and my big girl panties, on and do it. 

We continued downhill for roughly 8 KM before we pulled in to the Freedly Quarry. The volunteers were, as always, an encouraging welcome to the site. I was quick to notice that they were all dressed in sweat pants and winter coats. I knew I was chilly from the downhill ride, but their chosen attire confirmed my suspicion that the outside temperatures had dropped drastically. They went through the usual schpeel about where things were and how the following sections were to play out. I don't recall if we were told at the tent, or at the irresistible campfire that the points for the cliff jump were now optional and not mandatory. Say less. I'm out. I wasn't going to stop Dan and Becky from having their fun, but it was 100% off the table for me. I can say now I do have the slightest regret not doing it, but not enough to stew over it. 

While we sat next to the fire, Becky and Dan liff lauffed about the jump. I strongly encouraged them to go ahead and do it. I offered set up the tent so they could have a warm place to recover from the cold shock. They steeled themselves and headed over to change into their wet suits. I reveled in the peace of solitude by the fire for just a few more minutes. I would never claim to be an introvert, but the few minutes alone, and weight of the cliff jumps off my shoulders, was magical at that point. 

I gathered up some motivation and went in search of a quiet and secluded spot for our tent. There were other teams camped out around the expansive grounds, but I wanted to be tucked away in as quiet of a corner as possible. I found the perfect spot and proceeded to erect our little home away from home for the first time on the race. We had practiced setting up the tent on a team meet up back in February, but had not given it a go since that time. It took me a few minutes to understand the steps, but I got it assembled quickly. I returned to our pile of packs and bikes and brought my sleeping gear into the tent. I had the thought to just go right to sleep and bank some rest, but guilt pulled me from the cozy structure and back to the waters edge of the quarry just in time to see Brent briefing Dan and Becky at the starting ramp to the challenge. 

In the dark of the night, illuminated only by the bopping and squiggling of headlamp light, Becky and Dan eased themselves into the frigid waters and swam toward their first jump. Becky gasped a few times as her body acclimated to the cold waters and Dan swam like an absolute amphibian behind her, holding the Go Pro steadily above the water. He had been a collegiate level pro swimmer for years and it was obvious with his comfort in the water. They climbed the stairs to the 4 foot jump and launched themselves back into the water. They then swam back across the quarry to the next ladder and climbed up to the 10 foot jump. I hooted out encouragement from the dark edge where I was watching the shenanigans and talking with Abby. They again plunged themselves into the waters without hesitation. They continued on the swim to the third jump, this time approximately 15 feet up. I had thought up to that point I would have been totally fine with the heights, had I had any desire to join in. I probably would have paused a few seconds longer than they did, but am confident I could have made the 15 foot jump. However, as they climbed up to the final jump in the far corner of the quarry, I was equally as confident that I could not have made myself take that plunge. Dan had said multiple times earlier in the race that I wouldn't have to worry about hesitating at the highest jump because he was planning to push me if I stalled. I can't express the amount of rage this set deep in my soul every time he said those words. But, thankfully for all parties, that event did not have to occur, and the two of them flung themselves from 25 feet up in the air into the deep and dark waters of the Freedly quarry while I cheered them on from the opposite side.

As they emerged from the quarry, I could see the elation and joy on Becky's face. She had really enjoyed the challenge and was on a beautiful adrenaline high. Abby offered to snap a picture of them freshly energized from their conquest. I stood back, not feeling the need to be captured in their moment of andrenalined solidarity, but Abby insisted I pop my head in for a photo. After a quick photo shoot and a few minutes of decompression, we returned to our bikes and their awaiting warm, dry clothing. I headed back to the tent, but as I approached, I figured I wouldn't be able to sleep once they returned, so there was no need to curl into my bivy before they were ready to bed down. I went back and collected their bibs from the initial jump site, used the portapotty, and offered to carry stuff for them back to the tent. 

They eventually made their way to the area where I had set up camp and quietly called out my name. I called back and they homed in on our tent. We squeezed ourselves into the tight quarters and I was reminded of why I didn't want to sleep in the tent at TA 2. I couldn't avoid it this time though. So I rolled on to my side and pushed myself as far to the side of the tent as possible. Dan complained that he had no water to drink during his sleep, which was a standard requirement for him. I had a full bottle of water I had not touched since we last filled our supply, so I handed it to him rather than have him go back out and search for a treatable water source. We all set our watches for another 3 hour sleep and drifted off, regularly awoken by Dan rehydrating.

Just before my watch was set to buzz, I turned off my alarm and sat up. Dan and Becky both repositioned and opened their eyes. We began to discuss our upcoming day. There was an embedded bike and trek section within a mile of the quarry. While the bike section didn't call to me, the trek held SEVEN points in less than 2 miles of hiking. What a no brainer! Unless you're fixated on banking time and planning for things "later." FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!! When was "later" going to finally come?! I insisted that we at least head up to the trek and grab a few points. Dan said it was a lousy plan and that it would bite us in the butt on our time management. Becky wasn't 100% for or against it, but eventually began to agree with Dan that it may take more time than I was imagining, and diplomatically suggested to continue on without making the detour to the trek. While we were discussing all the above, apparently another team had set up their camp close enough to us that our chattering was annoying them and they called out an invitation to SHUSH! This made us giggle and quiet our volume for a few moments. After a couple of minutes I saw the writing on the wall that the trek was not to be had, and we emerged from our cozy beds and broke down our campsite as the sun was just beginning to light up the morning sky. 

Once we were packed and ready to head out I noticed an unfamiliar seat on Dan's bike. I looked at him and I looked back at his seat and raised an eyebrow. He just stated that a miracle had happened and he may have been able to "steal" something off of an unused bike he found. I didn't ask any more questions. We checked out of the TA and turned back south on Route 30 toward Manchester. I had to really dig deep to not react when within 20 yards of leaving the TA Dan called out he needed to stop to adjust his seat. After a few minutes we were off again on this forgiving and undulating roadway. After a mile or two we zoomed by another small country gas station. I knew Dan had next to zero water, so I called out asking if they wanted to stop for a resupply. Both Dan and Becky agreed and they headed in to the store while I waited outside with our bikes. 

After a gallon or so of water was filled into bladders and bottles, a few highly caffeinated beverages were pounded, and a couple hand pies were inhaled, we set back out on our route. Coming through Manchester was a smack back into reality. We had been in the national forests and back roads of Vermont for days without seeing much of civilization. It was strange to peddle through the usually busy and bustling town of Manchester. It wasn't even 7 am, and many of the stores and shops remained closed, but a few bakeries and coffee shops were tempting us. We decided to keep cruising since we had just had a stop at the gas station.

Once the town began to fall away, we started our relentless uphill climb along the tight and nerve-wracking shoulder of route 30. We stopped along an interstate intersection and slathered on sun block, giggling about something I can't recall at the moment. The roar of dump trucks and the exhaust of 18 wheelers shuttered our resolve, but we continued up and up and up. This road biking was far from a highlight of the race. In fact, it wasn't enjoyable at all. While it certainly was the most direct and forgiving of route options, it was not a joy. Eventually we summited the mountain and began our downhill portion of the route. 

In our boredom of the roadway, Becky and I began to wonder what a small orange dot was that was commonly dispersed along roadways on the maps. We noticed there was one coming up on our route and we made it a quest to figure out what it represented. We peddled up to the exact point on the map and peered into the woods. Nothing. We could not, and would not, discover what that small orange blip signified. We planned to ask Brent at some point later in the race, but we repeatedly forgot whenever we came in contact with him.

Eventually we came upon our right hand turn onto a dirt road. There was a quaint one room school house looking library on the corner. Dan was in desperate need of a break and pleaded for a chance to catch a quick nap. We elected to have a proper stop and give him a chance to close his eyes. As soon as we hopped off the bikes my body decided it was time to find a bathroom. I walked around the outskirts of the library until I found the entrance and tried the door. Locked. Dang it. The sign gave opening hours from 10-4. Alas, it was 9:45. Across the road was what looked like a landscaping business. I started to walk over to see if they had a public restroom but then thought better of it. How strange would it be to just walk up to a fancy looking establishment with lush gardens and fairy tale fish ponds and ask to use their bathroom? I turned and looked back toward where Becky and Dan were sitting in the shade of a big Chestnut tree. Beyond them was a large open field at the edge of which stood multiple placards and a thick wood line behind them. I realized I felt more comfortable heading into the woods than asking to use a business's bathroom.

I returned to my team and grabbed my "potty gear" and walked across the open field and into the woods. I trekked a small distance, to ensure privacy and a polite location for my needs. Within a few minutes I was back out in the open and glanced toward the signs that lined the forest's edge. It was one of those walking story books. My children have always loved those things.

Becky and I sat together under the Chestnut tree, looking over maps and stretching our muscles while Dan snored, sprawled out on the lawn. After about 20 minutes Becky stated that she should use the bathroom before we headed out. I laughingly suggested she avoid the area of woods where I had gone. This silly fact started our delirious giggling. We continued chuckling about the fact that families probably enjoyed that walk and the storybook placards. We continued giggling until I made the comment "Yea, its a great story but it has a really crappy ending!" This threw us into a bout of near hysterical laughter that went on for no less than 5 minutes. We could not get ourselves back together and had tears coming down our cheeks as we gasped for air between belly laughs! It was such a funny and memorable moment I'll not forget for a long long while. I'm still laughing as I write this!

Once we were able to contain our giggles, we poked Dan awake. He had been gifted a near 30 minute nap thanks to our uncontrollable laughter and loss of time. Once we were all set and back on our bikes, we began to pull away from our shaded rest stop. A voice cried out from a now opened window in the library "Have fun going up that hill!" I'm still not sure if it was a sarcastic jab resulting from them overhearing our laughter about the crappy ending, or if they really were wishing us well on the upcoming challenge of elevation. We called back a "Thank you!" and continued on the hard packed dirt road.

It was a relatively enjoyable stretch of dirt. We peddled along a beautiful river riddled with small rapids and cascading falls and came to a large flower dotted meadow with an idyllic farmstead and encompassing views of the majestic Vermont mountains. It was a beautiful afternoon and I had a wave of gratitude to be blessed in our present moment. As we returned to the cool of the forest along the road, a small vehicle came charging up to us in the opposite direction. It stopped abruptly and out hopped Kristen, one of the photographers from the race. She had seen our team dot stopped back at the library for some time and wanted to come snap a few pictures of us taking a rest. However, the lag in reception hadn't accounted for our departure from the picturesque site. She chatted with us for a few minutes and snapped a couple pictures. 

While we were paused there another team came up behind us on their bikes. It was a two person coed team from Canada. I have no idea what their team name was, but they were friendly and we said Hi as they scooted past us. We continued on the dirt road until we spotted our turn off onto IP Road. After a small bridge the trail split. We had already decided we would take the route to the right in favor of skipping the unbelievably tight contour lines to the left. The Canadian team had paused at the intersection as well. I noticed them contemplating the same thoughts and told them we had chosen the longer but less steep route to the right. They nodded and continued discussing in French. While Dan was doing something to his seat yet again, they finally decided on their route and agreed that to the right was the lesser of two evils. 

Once Dan was resituated we began our climb up what would later be referred to "I-Push Road." And push we did. In an effort to save our quads, we would ride for all the flat and super gradual uphills, but we would consistently dismount and push our bikes whenever the elevation increased quickly. The local black fly population feasted that day. Those little buggers were relentless! They had the black body and look of a large housefly, but the menacing head and stinger of what we know as deer flies in Delaware. And they were famished! I can't say they accosted me nearly as relentlessly as they feasted on Dan, but they were a ridiculous pain in the butt on that trail. 

We came to the saddle where Becky believed CP 49 to be. She explained her rational to me and it made sense, so we dove into the woods. While we were fumbling around looking for a "pine tree grove" another team came scooting by and told Dan that we were way too early for CP 49. Dan called out to us and we slowly emerged from the thick vegetation and rocky woods. We hopped back on our bikes and continued on, with Dan sporting a mosquito net over his hat to ward off the inundation of black flies that were encircling him. We kept going on and on, the trail now vacillating between up hills, down hills and saddle after saddle. We paused at a thick pine tree cluster that hid a large Moose-haven of swampiness. Becky had to pop into the woods, so we hung out as another team passed us. Afterwards we continued on until we saw a large opening riddled with ponds and bogs. I honestly had no real assurance of where we were on the map at this point and was grabbing at straws to figure it out. I had a thought that we were actually way way way further back on the trail than we had originally presumed. I began to ride faster thinking it would be a while before we would arrive to our intended saddle. As I picked up speed, the two person Canadian team passed by us going in the opposite direction. Everyone was confused, I figured. I glanced back and saw them dismount as Dan stopped alongside them. As was  his norm, Dan got off his bike and sat down in the middle of the trail. I didn't want to stop AGAIN, so I defiantly kept going. Soon Becky was calling out to me that Dan had called out to her to stop and come back. Dan's stationary and shameless stalking had paid off. The Canadian team had popped into the "pine grove" in the "saddle" and found CP 49 while Dan sat on his tush. Becky and I returned to the site to hear Dan scolding us for not listening to him quicker. My blood boiled. I dropped my bike and plowed into the pines behind Becky. We quickly found the CP and punched it before turning around and heading back to our bikes and Dan still camped out in the middle of the trail.

I needed to get away before I said something I would regret. I know I was blowing up the minor situation to astronomical proportions in my head. I also have my faults, and they are admittedly quite a few, but I had nearly hit my breaking point with this man. I stormed off, full speed and decided I wouldn't stop or look back until I hit the upcoming trail intersection about a KM away. When I arrived at the intersection a team was just popping out from the trail. It was Strong Machine! Glen Lewis lead their pack and skidded to a stop by my side. They had made the decision to go left at the IP Road split and had regretted it deeply. The trails were not clearly seen, and they had made a wrong turn at some point. They were still looking for CP 49 and happy to hear we had punched it less than a KM away. Off they road at speeds I could only dream about.

I sat down at the intersection, took off my helmet, sprayed a healthy layer of bug spray all over me, and drank deeply from my water bottle. By the time Becky and subsequently Dan arrived to the intersection I had calmed down. I apologized to Becky for storming off, and I think she understood my reasoning. I didn't say anything I regretted to Dan, and we continued on. The remainder of the IP Road trail was a lot of the same. Big rocks, deep ruts, knee high grass, and black flies. Strong Machine came whipping past us along with a few more higher ranking teams. 

Joyously, we finally arrived to Stratton Arlington Road, a blessedly paved and forgiving roadway that would lead us directly to TA 4. We hooted cries of happiness at being on a real road again, and comfortably peddled the kilometer to the TA. As we came up to an intersection, we were momentarily disoriented and almost turned left down a steep hill in the wrong direction. The TA was just through the woods to our right, pointed out by a duo of non-racer bikers who told us we were probably looking for that parking lot and those other racers. Thank you! We absolutely did not need a single additional up hill climb. Becky and I rode circles around the base of the driveway into the parking lot so we could all arrive together as a team.