7 Days in Vermont
Anna Stewart Recaps the Endless Mountain Adventure Race
The place to start is that I feel like I’ve lost my home. I got back to Jersey around 2pm and it was all I could do to move from the car to my bed. Over a day later, I have pulled everything out of the car, and gotten groceries, but other than that I have been in bed. Obviously, I’m exhausted, but it’s something else as well. For one week, home became something that I have never experienced before, more of a frame of existence than a place. It was a state of constant motion, bracketed with an incredible team, an incredible community, a breathtaking backdrop of landscape, and two race directors that held us all with immense dexterity within this atomic bomb of an experience. I feel an acute sense of loss for now being back at my house amid all the bland trappings of normal life.
Leading up to Endless involved adjusting to team changes, dealing with mild injuries, and reckoning with increasingly scary weather reports, as well as all the other usual prepping chaos. Arriving in Burlington we assembled the team, and got gear organized and weighed in, which is always my worst nightmare no matter how organized I have been going into the race. Moving things around to make weight on the bin, bike boxes and paddle bags fries my brain every time. I’m always terrified that something I need is not going to be in the correct spot when I need it, and this type of organization does not suit my cognitive style.
After finishing with gear we ambled over to the pre-race briefing with all the other racers. They played the course flyover, and I don’t know if it was the intense, scary music choice or what, but that was the moment I was like, oh, I’ve realized this race is going to kill me. Cool cool.
The next morning at the crack of dawn we headed across campus from our dorms to get breakfast and load the busses. Despite getting to bed at 9pm, I had maybe managed only four hours of useful sleep. We arrived at the start of the race at Middlebury Snow Bowl, and I then began to face the whiplash of switching from being terrified of the expedition race, to being terrified of my commitment to sing both the national anthem and the Vermont state song at the start of the race. These days my singing performances solely involve the shower, or the car, so it’s been quite the adjustment to get back into a performance head space for a few of these races over the last couple of years. As usual, I have no memory of how the performance actually went, my brain just blocks it out.
The race began, and I hyperfixated on the prologue map as well as my crotchety right calf. I still don’t know exactly what’s gone wrong with it, but my best guess is it’s spontaneously become capable of predicting the weather, because nothing I do seems to have any effect on when it bothers me, and when it doesn’t. So it MUST be the weather. I had asked the team if I could start out on maps to get my head wrapped around them early in the race. I felt frustratingly slow trying to offer as much time as possible for the muscle to warm up. I made the prediction that being so overly cautious with it may change my striding, which could then easily be a harbinger of foot issues. Unfortunately, I didn’t comprehend how accurate that prediction would be.
We finished the prologue and headed back to get our race maps and plan for legs A, B, and C. Over the course of the race we were working with a total of 52 maps, most of which we received after the prologue. We worked out the plan and headed out on the long 30 ish mile trek that would take likely us through the first 24 hours of the race. I quickly relinquished the maps to Joe so I could focus on using my trek poles to again protect my calf as we warmed up. Joe was the hero of the race in taking on around 85% of the navigation which is a HUGE responsibility, and massively increases the workload through the combo of the physical and the mental effort.
We trudged on, and while my calf did seem to loosen up, my feet did seem to be feeling the wear earlier than usual because my striding had been so uneven. Night fell, and we kept pushing on, and then the cold rain rolled in. I asked the team for a break to try to work on my feet, but the damage was already significant, and quickly getting worse. We stopped to take a pause at CP 12, where we also needed to pick up our paddle bags and trek them to the next CP and then down to the water for the embedded paddle leg. I tried to throw the bag over my shoulder, but my feet were in what I’m calling razor blade stage, and I ended up having to relinquish carrying duty to Meg and Joe. It’s impossible to express how grateful I am that they were willing to do that work in the pouring down rain for several miles in order to support me dealing with the immense pain I was in. I took on the nav, and undershot the next CP, but luckily we were eventually able to find it. At this stage I was in so much pain that anything besides perfectly flat ground seemed impossible, so while I tried to go up the reentrant to punch the CP, Joe ended up having to follow me up and grab it himself.
We collapsed in a heap down by the water for the start of the paddle leg. Of course at this moment the thunder and lightning appeared just in time for an exposed lake paddle, but luckily the storm was short lived. We nabbed a few optional CPs and were able to hit the donut island CP where we had the immense joy of seeing Mary, who was manning the CP. Every time I got to see her out on course, it was a huge boost for me, she is such calming presence and knows us well at this point, so she always seems to know just what to say to help us pull out of whatever misery we are currently working in.
We arrived at TA 1 and I privately breathed a sigh of relief that we seemed to be right in the mix with the rest of the teams. We had made it right at the 25 hour mark, which was 30 minutes earlier than we had planned in our logistics spreadsheet, which I was irrationally excited about. We chatted with the other racers and built our bikes, which felt like a big test for me, as last year at Ozarks, the first bike build after leg 1 was when we realized that all the break fluid had leaked out of my front break and the bike was effectively DOA. Luckily, I had practiced a few times before the race with the bike (as well as writing out instructions that I taped in the bike box for how to break down, and build the bike), and so everything went smoothly. Meg spent a few minutes working through a chain issue, and then we did our mandatory 5 minute media interview with the inimitable Brian Gatens.
We stopped at our first general store/gas station stop of the race for some coffee and I was practically squealing with joy that the official store greeters were a multitude of noble felines that clearly owned the place. Joe had to stop for a few minutes to figure out a dropper post issue that was a bit concerning, but seemed to stabilize for the rest of the race as long as he didn’t touch it. We biked through the town of Rutland and stopped for a GIANT meal of burgers, hot dogs, and smoothies at Five Guys. We then took on a MTB single track section that also if memory serves was one of the first really obnoxious encounters with the “affectionate” mosquito population, as well as the ever increasing heat. We cut off a significant optional portion of this stage including the embedded trek section, but the short cut involved a lot of blisteringly hot road biking with long stretches of climbing. We began to stop at frequent intervals to cool down, and enjoyed seeing a mid sized black bear sprint across the road in front of us.
Around sunset we arrived at what I am now referring to as the labyrinth. It was another single track MTB section at the Green Mountain. Any confidence we had stockpiled during the race was completely wiped away as we struggled pushing our bikes up and down a multitude of unmarked trails that made not one iota of sense. We spent NINE HOURS looking for 4 mandatory checkpoints and didn’t leave that section until around 2:30am. Mind you we now have not slept at all since the start of the race. We finally made it out and headed for TA2. It was also at this moment I realized that during the MTB section we just left, my bike computer had been knocked off my bike (likely during one of the 5 or 6 wipe outs I took walking the bike down slippery black diamond trails). Unfortunately, I was the only one on the team that had one, so we ended up doing the entirety of the rest of the race without any way to assess with accuracy how far we had biked. Not ideal.
We arrived at TA2 and while we had planned on breaking down the bikes, building the packrafts, and eating a big meal before we slept, the consensus was unanimously ABSOLUTELY NOT. We collapsed into sleep within 15 minutes. The next morning we got to work and all became aware of the heat rapidly rising, and we thanked our lucky stars we were spending the day on the water.
The section of the White River that we paddled was PERFECT for an adventure race. The rapids were occasionally solid class II but also very low consequence. Packrafting whitewater is always the most rejuvenating experience for me, and I really enjoyed soaking my tired feet in the chilly water for a much needed AR spa day. I also took on nav for this section to give Joe a break. Meg snuck up to a gas station about halfway through the paddle for cold sodas and I tried to follow but realized too late that the shoreline was stuffed with poison ivy. Since we were dripping wet, the urushiol oil drizzled all over my right foot, which let me tell you was super fun for the rest of the race.
At the take out at TA 3 we took a dip in the river to try to get some grit from the last few days off of us, and reckoned with the 100 degree heat that we were about to start biking in. I did some more major work on my feet that thankfully had started to improve, and then we biked into town for pizza at a little restaurant that had been due to close two minutes after we arrived, but kindly not only stayed open for us and one other team, but took amazing care of us! This stop was also partially a good way to wait out the heat as the afternoon progressed. We headed back out on the bikes around 8pm. Thus begins the saga of CP 28. We spent around two and a half hours looking for it alongside a lot of other teams that were equally as confused as we were. We finally reckoned with the fact that we were just going to have to drop our first mandatory point of the race, and go from short course finisher, to simply, official finisher. It was a massive bummer, but after the difficulty at the Green Mountain trails the day before, we were tired of spending so long struggling on single CPs. Annoyingly, we then had similar trouble with CP 29 and had to drop it as well. When I looked back at the tracking it appears we were horrifyingly close to both CPs and just got fatigued to a point that problem solving was becoming very difficult.
We also stopped down for a 2 hour sleep on the side of the road in our bivys in between CP 28 and 29 to try to refresh a little bit. Sleeping out on the trail is something I wanted to avoid as much as possible because I had brought a tent for TA that was much more luxurious than the bivy, but for Meg and Joe, they were using the bivys either way, so it sometimes made it tricky to decide where to sleep because both of them were concerned about the level of noise in the TAs (and rightly so, they are often VERY loud).
So now we were headed into the heat of the day on Tuesday (day 4) having slept a total of 5 hours, and we were told the temps were going up to around 100 degrees again. Racing became secondary to just surviving and our pace slowed to a crawl. I was stopping practically every 100 feet for every single tiny drainage with water to soak my buff and my hair to try to cool down. We stopped for a nap midday during the worst of the heat for about a half an hour. It was absolutely brutal. On the way we grabbed the CP at the famous Vermontasaurus which was epic, and we relished a few moments in the shade of the dinosaur. Our pace picked up a bit as we left paved roads for gravel and rocky trails leading into camp Lanakila, spurred on by the mosquitos, the slightly cooler air, and the rumor that there were MADE TO ORDER SMOOTHIES at CP 40, the start of the embedded memory O/trek/SUP section. We arrived and to our delight this rumor not only turned out to be true, but they also had ice cold lemonade, grilled PB&Js, and popsicles. I also took a dip in the lake that can only be described as orgasmic.
We decided to skip a lot of the trek which I’ll admit I was a bit bummed about because we had heard that the gorge was beautiful. We decided to do the memory O and then head out afterwards. We took a look at the map and as we left to find the first CP the skies opened up and it absolutely poured down rain with accompanying high winds. Meg had the excellent idea to hang out on the porch of one of the camp cabins until the storm passed and we enjoyed a moment of stillness relaxing and gazing out at the camp grounds. By the time the storm passed, our memory for the memory-O map had fizzled slightly, so we had a bit of trouble finding the first CP. Luckily we persevered and ticked off the rest of them. Circling back to CP 40 we got on our bikes and headed out.
After a brief stop at an open Tractor Supply, and then a gas station for a hot meal, we hit CP 41 which was Ms. Shannons school for girls from the Beetlejuice movie which was pretty cool. I guess I’m going to have to watch it now. We skipped the single track MTB section and headed straight into TA4 which was a very cramped TA that made finding a quiet spot to sleep difficult. The last bits of gravel roads on the way in involved some extremely steep hills that damn near crushed my soul as I pushed my bike and tired body up and over the punchy climbs again, and again. It was definitely one of the low moments for me as hike-a-bike is a very weak skill for me. We planned for 3 hours of sleep, and similar to all the previous sleeps, we all woke up prior to the alarm going off. Don’t ask me to explain how it’s possible that we are waking up before our alarms because I have no answer for you. Best guess is we were all so concerned about being the one who oversleeps and holds the team up that at the first rustling sounds to indicate that someone is getting up we instantly were wide awake.
We headed out for a trek that would be a minimum of 18 miles and I immediately became concerned about my feet again. I quickly realized that I had changed back into my Hokas which were also what I had been wearing on the first stage of the race, and all of a sudden I was having issues both with my feet AND with my calf all over again. I have now realized that the shoes were past their prime even though they were only around a year old. Adventure racing is hard on shoes, but sometimes I don’t realize just how quickly they degrade under these conditions. I asked the team to stop, doubled up on socks, and tightened my laces to keep my feet from sliding around and wrecking the bottoms of my feet again. This helped immensely and I was able to get through the leg with a lot less agony. Unfortunately we had another saga with a CP that took us several hours to find, and it was hidden around a swampy beaver pond which makes for difficult trekking. Being constantly attacked by deer flies also didn’t help much.
We powered through this stage which culminated with a climb up to Owls Head Mountain right at sunset for a spectacular view, and another “simple” CP to find (so of course it took us an extra 30 min). There were a bunch of teams up there and it was fun to chat with everyone while searching for the CP. We rolled our exhausted bodies into the TA and agreed that we were in desperate need of a longer sleep as we were at the end of day 5, and had only had 7.5 hours of sleep. We slept about 6 hours thank goodness and felt much rejuvenated as we got up and stuffed ourselves with as much food as possible. We built our bikes and headed out on what we had learned would be likely a surprise 100 mile century ride because they had cancelled the packraft that was supposed to follow this stage, and instead just had us ride our bikes the length of the river instead.
We were able to grab a morning stop at a general store for second breakfast and goodies for the road and powered on forward. We made an error stopping for some optional points at yet another MTB park, but because we had not intended on doing this section, we had not written down the amendments for this optional stage at the TA. We just crossed our fingers that the CPs had not been moved, but of course, the first CP we tried to find was not where it was originally mapped to be, but because we didn’t have the amendment, we couldn’t find it. We tucked our tails between our legs and headed out.
As much as we wanted to boop Canada’s nose, we had been told that the Jay’s Peak section was now optional, so we headed for the embedded O-relay section at Craftsbury Outdoor Center. We were also possibly drawn in by the knowledge that we were going to be provided with made to order pancakes at this section. Side note as I write this, I’m starting to realize how many decisions in this race were based on what food we could get our hands on. Meg headed out on the first relay, the long bike section while Joe and I napped for awhile. Joe then took a look at the maps overall, as our original plan was now a distant dream, he realized that we really did not have time to complete all of the relay. When Meg got back we conferred about it and decided to go ahead and continue on without finishing the relay.
On the way out of town we treated ourselves to another amazing stop at a CP and general store. I got a house made strawberry lemon slushie, and some hardboiled eggs which was one of those best meals of my life moments. We then embarked on same major climbs and got to witness some of the most beautiful scenery Vermont has to offer I will forever be grateful for Meg asking us to stop for a moment on one of the ridge lines to take in the sunset and a couple of tears slipped from my eyes as we paused to take in the breathtaking beauty of our surroundings.
As we finished this big climb the temps started to drop, and just to keep it interesting, we now began to freeze our chapped butts off. We also were truly starting to struggle with the many days of sleep deprivation and morale was starting to slip as night set in. We found an open sugar shack on the way down the mountain as our bodies sank into shivers, and we debated whether we risk sleeping inside, as there was a sign that said come in we are open, but also a small sticker inside stating it was under 24 hour surveillance. We erred on the conservative side and kept moving, but shortly after, found a public park to collapse in. Joe and Meg slept on park benches, and I found a sandbox that had a little semi enclosed shelter over it big enough for one person and hunkered down in the bivy. It was too cold and none of us slept at all, and then of course when we emerged from the bivys we were even more freezing because we had stopped moving and were now damp from condensation.
We put on every stitch of clothing we owned and got going as quickly as we could. We were able to warm up relatively quickly thank goodness, but this was definitely a moment where we were aware that our choices over those few hours were not without possible consequence. The sun came up and we made it to TA 6 to get on the water in our 3 person canoe.
We were told that we had made the cutoff to paddle this section as we were heading out around 9:15am, but were also told when we were leaving not to attempt the CP that involved the open water crossing on Lake Champlain because of high winds. We got moving and I was absolutely wrecked with fatigue, so the team let me nap hunkered down in the front of the boat while they paddled. I awoke with a start with we nearly missed spotting the low head dam we needed to portage around which gave me quite the fright as we came right up on it.
After the portage, Joe was the next to succumb to fatigue and attempted to nap in the back of the canoe until his head listed to the side as he drifted off, nearly tipping the canoe over. We ended up just pulling over and all sleeping in the the canoe all at once for a stretch. We were so, so tired. We made it out to Lake Champlain, and here my friends is where it got interesting.
The wind had apparently picked up on the lake far earlier than anticipated and so as we powered towards TA 7 the wind kept getting worse and worse. We ended up hugging the shore line in an attempt to stay out of the worst of the wind and also in case we flipped the canoe in the choppy white capped surf. We kept paddling harder and harder and making less and less progress. It stopped being possible to even take any breaks from paddling because it would have spelled disaster. I have never paddled so hard in my entire life, especially for such a long stretch. We traveled closely with our friends on team Vibes AR to try to make sure if something went horribly wrong that we could help each other out. All of a sudden in the midst of the worst of it, we looked over to shore, and there was the Legendary Randy Erikson taking photos of our near death experience. Hilariously, I conferred with my friend Alex from team Vibes, and we commiserated that our first reaction was to be completely appalled that Randy was taking photos of us like a wildlife photographer takes pics of a baby gazelle being eaten by a lion, followed by the realization that the photos would probably be awesome.
Eventually a safety boat appeared and directed us off the water because conditions had become unpaddleable, and apparently a team at an earlier section had had their canoe flip, which I think must have signified to the RDs that the paddle needed to end for everyone. We waited for awhile and got picked up by race staff and dropped at TA 7. It was here we realized that a majority of our race was behind us as the upcoming bike did not have any significant climbs, and then all we had left would be an optional 8 mile trek to the finish.
Well, you think you know what’s coming, and STILL you end up being wrong. The wind did not let up and after a quick food stop, it began to rain torrentially. Meg I think also smelled the finish line approaching, and while I was inspired by the pace she set, I could barely keep up with the team, especially after still feeling wrecked from the paddle. Joe was feeling a bit melty brain after such a long stretch of taking on nav and we got turned around at a CP in entirely the wrong area not even close to the point. We eventually righted ourselves, and then made our way to the famous bike ferry.
Friends and family, what I am about to describe may sound hyperbolic, but I need you to trust me when I say, I am NOT being hyperbolic, I am NOT exaggerating when I describe this bike ferry. We arrived around 1am and had spent the last few hours attempting to not get blown off of our bikes by the intense wind. The bike ferry is usually a pontoon type boat that runs bikes back and forth the 300 feet between the gaps in the exposed bike causeway. Race directors Brent and Abby had hired this dude who was wearing a spray suit and flip flops to ferry racers during the evening hours after the regular ferry had closed. He was using a center console boat that could carry one team and their bikes at a time. When we arrived, there was a line of about three teams waiting for the crossing in the pitch black area at the end of the side of the causeway we were on. We dropped our bikes and went to the end of the line of racers keeping warm by napping in their bivys across the trail. All three of us fell asleep and I awoke with a start to find that we were completely alone as the last team before us had just set off on their crossing.
We got up and got organized, and the boat captain returned. He said that while it is windy and rough (we subsequently found out that the winds hit the 50 mile an hour mark, and was pushing the limits of what this little boat could handle), that this was all normal, and that he has rescued people in this boat in conditions like this. He said that it would be a very bumpy ride and we could anticipate getting pummeled with spray and that the boat would feel tippy, but he assured us that it would all be okay. I kid you not that in the middle of this speech he turned back towards the boat during a particularly strong gust of wind and mused, “wow, that IS windy”. I’M SORRY SIR, WHAT? But we went ahead and walked our bikes down to the floating dock next to the boat as the docks swung back and forth violently in the wind, so much that we could barely stay upright. We got the bikes on the boat and carefully boarded ourselves. We donned life vests, and the captain then told us that when we got going he would have to turn off the lights on the boat so he could see what he was doing in the surf. I’M SORRY SIR, WHAT???? So the lights cut out and we were thrown into rolling and pitching darkness getting soaked with water flying over the side of the boat over and over again. One of the bikes fell over during a big wave and I was thankful the map board stayed attached as it would surely have become a kite in the wind if it had broken off. The trip was only three minutes long, but I’m sure you can imagine, time got real weird during that boat ride. After we disembarked, the captain said that so far, we had won for windiest ride. What an accomplishment.
But wait! It doesn’t get boring yet! We then had to ride the half of the causeway we had just been dropped at in 50 mile an hour winds. Imagine what is basically a set of train tracks on top of open water in wind like that, and you might have an idea of what it was like. We had to massively lean into the wind to avoid getting blown off our bikes, and sometimes the wind was so strong we almost couldn’t pedal forward. I did eventually hit the dirt after a strong gust of wind, and it took a few minutes to collect myself after the 12 hours we had just had.
Finally, we hit dry land with some tree cover to break the wind. These experiences where so intense that we were exhausted, but also not sleepy, so we continued on. We navigated through the bikeway to Burlington, now towards dawn in our last few hours of racing. We reached the bike drop to transition to our last optional trek, and both Meg and Joe confirmed they wanted to do the trek into the finish with maybe a few optional points. Meg took on the nav for this section, and we picked off a few points. As the sun came up, the adrenaline wore off and the immense fatigue of the last 7 days hit all at once. Joe told us afterwards that he was practically flirting with being completely out of touch with where he even was. Literally and existentially. I wasn’t far behind, as I had also run out of water, and was too tired to deal with trying to eat. Thanks goodness Meg could take on nav because the rest of us were melted puddles of brain matter.
The sun came up and finally, we headed for the finish at St. Michaels. I was fully in death march stage and just barely had the energy it took to get to the finish. We pushed up the last little hill and jogged across the finish line to get made to order pizzas that were so incredibly delicious I had a hard time not bursting into tears. We all quickly retreated to our dorms and hotel rooms to collapse.
I couldn’t manage the energy to shower before sleep so I collapsed for two hours and then bizarrely just woke up unprompted. I managed to drag myself to the shower, and I’m going to admit here and now that I sat down in that dorm room shower and just let the water flow over me for probably 45 minutes. Then back to bed for awhile, before getting up to start collecting and packing our gear.
We attended the awards ceremony and watched the brilliant compilation film created by Paul Miller who we often saw out and about on the course collecting footage. Brent and Abby got a well deserved standing ovation for the incredible job they did on this race. I can’t thank them enough for creating experiences like Endless for racers to reckon with all the most vibrant parts of being alive. Their efforts made it possible for me to have experiences that are some of the most formative of my entire life. What does it mean to be given something so priceless? I’ll never be able to adequately describe what it’s meant to me.
This race was home for 7 days. And now that it’s over, I feel truly lost. I’m glad that I’m not currently pushing my bike up a mountain, and that my feet don’t feel like I’m walking on broken glass, but what am I supposed to do with my life now? Go back to work? Screw that. I’m signing off to check the race calendar for 2026. See you all there.
Final Race Stats
487 miles
33,000 feet of elevation gain
16 hours of sleep over 7 days
