2025 Endless Mountains AR: Les Verd Monts
21 June 2025
“You guys look like you could use some sleep,” said the Green Mountain local, pointing toward his barn as storm clouds gathered overhead. We’d been racing for four days straight through mountains that seemed designed to crush us, and this complete stranger was about to become our guardian angel.
We were melting in 100-degree heat, our feet were falling apart, and Ryan’s legendary snoring had earned him a reputation that carried across valleys - you could literally hear that man from a mile and a half away. But when we woke up from our barn nap, the family had cooked us burritos and invited us to dinner at their kitchen table. As we sat there, barely coherent after days in the wilderness, sharing stories with people who’d never heard of adventure racing, I understood exactly what race director Brent meant by “livable moments” with the people of Vermont.
Seven days of racing. 46 maps that tried to break us in creative ways. One sketchy ferry crossing in 40+ mph winds that has become a core adventure racing memory. And proof that sometimes the best adventures happen when you’re too tired to realize how epic they actually are.
Event Video
Course Resources
Teammate Down, Teammate Found
Three months earlier, Dave had crushed his hand in a freak mountain biking accident. The hand would heal fine, but he needed serious surgery and months of recovery time - definitely not compatible with seven days of gripping paddle shafts and bike handlebars. So there we were, three months out from our biggest race ever, suddenly down a teammate.
Fortunately, we had a potential teammate lined up! Jason had launched his social media campaign months earlier, starting with Facebook messages, escalating to Instagram DMs, and finally signing up for LinkedIn specifically to reach us there. The man was determined to get on our roster, and honestly, his persistence was exactly the kind of commitment we wanted in a teammate. We’d told him if anything happened, he was first on our list. I’m pretty sure he would have sent carrier pigeons if he could have found our address.
When Dave got hurt, we reached out to Jason instantly. He later told us he was literally shaking in his car when he got our email - a mix of excitement and terror as he realized he had exactly seven weeks to prep for a seven-day race.
Jason had done two races of this length before, while this would be Ryan’s first foray beyond 24 hours. Sometimes the universe aligns perfectly, even when it requires creating LinkedIn accounts for the sole purpose of teammate recruitment.
We were terrified, honestly. Endless Mountains 2 had been three days of relentless rain that nearly broke us - I still haven’t finished editing that race video because the memories are too painful. The thought of adding two more days to that misery had us questioning our sanity. But with four strong team members and lessons learned, we felt ready to tackle the unfinished business that Endless 2 had left us with.
Pre-Race Jitters
Ryan and I drove north Thursday afternoon, hunting for a bike computer and generally getting our heads right. We found both the computer and a fantastic brewery dinner, watching thunderstorms roll through while wondering if this was a preview of our week ahead. When we picked up Jason from the airport Thursday night, everything seemed smooth - until JP called at 2 AM.
“I hit a deer. Car’s totaled.”
So much for sleep. I drove two hours south into the night to extract our stranded teammate, getting him back to the hotel around 4:30 AM. Not exactly the rest we’d planned before a seven-day sufferfest, but hey, what’s an adventure race without some pre-race chaos?
Friday morning’s breakfast in downtown Burlington was phenomenal - some of the best breakfast sandwiches I’ve ever had. We organized gear, attended the 2 PM briefing, and tried to wrap our heads around what Brent had designed for us. The course overview was insane - 15 minutes of just looking at maps on screen, talking about “livable moments” and getting to know the people of Vermont.
The best moment came when Brent jokingly announced that the four-person male teams would get “a canoe and a kayak instead of two kayaks.” When we asked which male team would get this setup, he pointed at us with a grin. “You guys are the only ones.” The room chuckled, and we immediately rebranded ourselves as “the number one seeded 4p male team” - an introduction we used with every person we met for the entire week.
42 maps. Actually 46 with the orienteering relay. We would spend an hour and a half marking the first few days after the prologue, knowing everything would change as we progressed. It was early to bed, 5 AM wake-up call looming.
Prologue: Welcome to Vermont
Middlebury College Snow Bowl: Day 0, Hour 0
3.7 mile trek
Mystery bus rides are always exciting. 24 hours prior we had no idea where we would be heading - and now we rolled into Middlebury College’s snowbowl. The prologue was straightforward - four checkpoints up through the ski area with just a single map, then back to base to collect the mountain of remaining maps.
Everything clicked perfectly. Our navigation was spot-on, we hit all points efficiently, and Ryan immediately established the pattern that would define his week - shirt off within the first hour because he was already overheating. This became our ongoing internal battle: how do you stay cool while keeping race bibs visible when it’s going to hit 100 degrees later in the week?
The lake checkpoint was beautiful, and spirits were high as we returned to base. We had 42+ maps spread before us - more than any race we’d ever done. We marked conservatively, knowing our plans would evolve, then headed out for what we knew would be an absolute monster first leg.
Stage A: Moose Song
Moosalamoo National Recreation Area: Day 0, Hour 2
40.4 mile trek
Looking at the overview, we’d known this opening trek would be brutal. 30+ miles out of the gate - basically an ultra-marathon with navigation and checkpoints scattered throughout Vermont’s mountains. Our strategy was simple: go 36 hours before even thinking about sleep, get through the first night, and establish our rhythm.
The weather cooperated early on, not too hot yet, just a long grind through varied terrain. We made our first mistake 15 minutes in, sailing past CP5 by 20 feet during what should have been a straightforward bushwhack. Fortunately we caught it quickly, but it was a humbling reminder that even “easy” points can bite you.
We established our philosophy early: mandatories were everything, optionals were truly optional. When we reached A1, we skipped it and headed straight for the Moosalamoo area. At A2, we found a beautiful beaver dam in the middle of a lake, but when faced with A4 requiring a water crossing that would soak our feet, we made the smart call to skip it and stay dry. Team Nerdquist passed us saying it “wasn’t bad,” but foot care felt more important than bonus points.
As night fell, we hit the Catamount Trail system for CP9 and 10. The blue blazes were barely visible in our headlamp beams, requiring careful attention to stay on route. Other teams branched off in different directions, but we trusted our navigation and kept grinding.
The rain started at CP12, and with it came confusion about gear pickup. We’d expected paddle gear at A12, but it was actually at CP12. In the downpour, we ended up portaging nearly two miles with all our paddle equipment to reach the checkpoint, then back to the lake for the morning paddle section.
I couldn’t help but think about Endless 2 as the rain intensified. Please, not three more days of this.
Stage B: Not Your Parents Death Race…
Pine Hill, Sherburne, and Green Mountain Trails: Day 1, Hour 1
87.3 mile bike
Mercifully, the rain stopped by the time we reached TA1. There were donuts on Donut Island - one of the optional paddle points - and we got interviewed by Brian Gatens for the Dark Zone podcast. We’d also established what became our transition ritual: strip almost completely naked, Gold Bond everything, put on dry clothes, and let the morning sun work its magic. Even when the weather turned bad, this routine kept our spirits up and our bodies healthy.
The bike leg started promisingly. We cruised through Rutland, hit Starbucks for coffee, and tackled a fun bike park before making our biggest mistake of the entire race. Looking at the southern optional section with CP B5 and B6, we thought, “Why not? We feel good on bikes.”
We grossly underestimated the climbing. 1000 feet of elevation gain up increasingly sketchy class four fire roads. Ryan and Jason started hurting, and thankfully they spoke up before we dug ourselves deeper. We took a quick nap break for 30 minutes at B6 while JP and I made the call: skip the foot section, get back on bikes, and recover from this tactical error.
It was unarguably our biggest mistake, but we turned a bad situation around. As Brent told us later, we made the right call to bail rather than push deeper into trouble. The bike ride up Vermont Route 100 toward Killington was spectacular compensation - rolling downhills through picturesque towns as the sun set on our second day.
We skipped one bike park to hit another with mandatory points, and that’s where things got interesting. The park was deceptively difficult - some teams spent 5-7 hours in this section. We efficiently wound our way to the top, found CP21 and Shrek’s Cabin, then the trails got amazingly sketchy.
Devil’s Throat. I barely understand how this was a walking trail, let alone something we were expected to bike. Since we couldn’t bushwhack, we carried our bikes down this nightmare descent in the dark, swearing creatively until we found stairs and the blessed relief of Upper Noodles trail. Another team was there swearing equally creatively - they hadn’t even found the top checkpoints yet.
JP navigated us to CP23 perfectly, got optional B20, and we escaped that bike park with our sanity mostly intact. The ride through areas I knew from childhood camping - Gaysville, White River - was a perfect nighttime cooldown as we rolled into TA2 around 1 AM.
Stage C: Surrender to the Flow
The White River: Day 1, Hour 22
35.2 mile paddle
We made a strategic decision to sleep well at TA2, knowing the next day would be hot and we wanted to be on the river during peak temperatures. The grilled cheese sandwiches from the race volunteers were incredible fuel, and I slept under the stars while the others took the tent.
This is where Ryan’s legendary snoring reputation was born. You could literally hear him from a mile and a half away. When he was truly exhausted, he somehow managed to snore on both the inhale and exhale. It became a running joke throughout the course - teams would ask, “Is that Ryan snoring?” from ridiculous distances.
Ryan also realized he hadn’t packed enough food in the dry bin, since we wouldn’t see our personal gear bins until much later. It was a good lesson for future races - we need to discuss bin distribution and food sharing strategies more thoroughly.
But the paddle section absolutely rocked. Fantastic rapids, well-marked, barely had to walk anything. The complete opposite of most Endless races we’d experienced. The water was like an 80-degree bathtub - we were swimming voluntarily just to cool off. Despite liberal sunscreen application, we got burned on our shoulders. Lesson learned: long-sleeve sun shirts next time.
I paddled with Ryan, JP took Jason, and nobody flipped. When we arrived at the takeout, Abby was waiting with news that Conrad had started riding his red bike - just hearing stories from the outside world after 2.5 days of racing was an incredible mental boost.
Stage D: Campfires, Dinosaurs, and… Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!
Fairlee Town Forest and Millstone Trails: Day 2, Hour 12
106.8 mile bike / 7 mile memory-o
Ryan had been asking for real food since the previous night, so when we rolled into White River Junction just before 8 PM, we made it happen. The pizza shop was clearly closing, but when we explained what we were doing, they stayed open for us. Incredible pizza and garlic bread that would fuel us through our third night of racing.
Adventure Enablers joined us for dinner, and spirits were high as we prepared for another night push. But Ryan’s breathing started sounding off during this leg. We’d discover later that he’d been giving himself chlorine poisoning by incorrectly cutting up water purification tablets meant for 15 liters. His throat was getting burned, making every breath uncomfortable. It’s something we should have addressed earlier, but live and learn.
CP28 was the most epic checkpoint hunt of the entire race. A massive climb up vanishing class four fire roads with hundreds of unmarked side trails. Three teams working together, trying different approaches. On our third attempt, we dropped into a re-entrant, bushwhacked up a quarter mile, and landed right on the checkpoint. Perfect attack point execution.
Ryan and Jason finally embraced bike tows on this section, which was huge for team efficiency. Ryan had been worried that accepting help meant he wasn’t “finishing it himself,” but I reminded everyone: this is a team sport. If we can’t finish as a team, individual efforts don’t matter.
The graveyard checkpoint (CP29) was straightforward, and CP30 at the edge of an old mine would have been spectacular in daylight. We wisely skipped optional D1 when the woods looked too gnarly for tired navigation, taking a longer but safer route to CP31.
Then I made a communication mistake. JP asked for a 5-hour energy, I gave him one, and 30 minutes later suggested we sleep at the next TA. His response was… colorful. But we made it to CP32 where the GMARA volunteers were absolutely awesome, making grilled PB&J sandwiches and providing exactly the hospitality we needed.
This transition included a foot section with memory orienteering followed by a potential stand-up paddle segment. I pushed hard against the SUP section - we were already sunburned, it was getting brutally hot, and I didn’t want us trapped on open water under the blazing sun. Smart call in hindsight.
The heat was becoming a real factor. We hit a beautiful waterfall but mainly remember the brutal elevation and the sun beating down on us. We stuck to mandatories, avoided optionals, and used every river we crossed to soak our cooling vests.
Along the way we stopped at a general store and had some of the best sandwiches of our lives, and just down the street we visited a checkpoint at the house from Beetlejuice!
Then came the highlight of the entire race. A Vermont family saw us struggling in the heat at the top of one of the climbs and invited us to sleep in their barn during a brief storm. When we woke up, they’d cooked us burritos and invited us to join them for dinner. It was maybe the best meal I’ve ever had - exactly the kind of “livable moments” that Brent had talked about in the pre-race briefing.
Stage E: The Only Way Out is Through
Groton State Forest: Day 3, Hour 21
32.9 mile trek
I woke up from a short 2 hour sleep genuinely worried about time cutoffs. I couldn’t see how we’d hit the remaining mandatories given how much the heat had slowed everyone down. But when we reached the TA, the course notes were waiting with the best news possible: the entire bike to Jay Peak was now optional.
I was so relieved I could have cried. This meant we could stick to mandatories for the rest of the race. Looking back at how close we cut the final TA, I don’t think we could have made it otherwise.
Back on my feet - my strongest discipline - with hot coffee, hot food, and music. Perfect. Having just slept in the open woods again under clear skies, my navigation was absolutely dialed in this section. Spruce Mountain had a cool tower lookout, but Owl’s Head was one of the most spectacular outlooks I’ve ever seen in a race.
This was also where Jason invented what became known as the “chaos cocktail” - a carefully curated collection of painkillers that kept Ryan alive and moving despite some epic chafing issues. Jason’s pharmaceutical expertise proved just as valuable as his racing experience, and Ryan was eternally grateful for the mobile pharmacy that followed him up every mountain.
We were out there for 15.5 hours (7 AM to 10:30 PM), planning to push through the night to reach the orienteering relay. The flies were terrible, but the views were incredible. People’s feet were really starting to deteriorate, so we made smart team decisions: minimal bushwhacking, stick to roads and trails, skip all optionals intentionally.
Stage F: Border Run
Hardwick Trails, Craftsbury Outdoor Center: Day 4, Hour 16
102.1 mile bike / 6.4 mile orienteering
From TA5, we attempted the night push to the orienteering relay. Thermal regulation was tricky - getting hot on climbs, then cold on descents. We made it to Cabot, Vermont (Cabot cheese country!) at 4 AM but realized we couldn’t make it all the way to the relay. Too far, too tired. We slept roadside and continued in the morning.
What looked like major towns on the maps turned out to be tiny villages with absolutely nothing in them. But when we reached the orienteering relay, it was awesome. We had to stay for six hours and attempt all courses. I crushed the long foot relay in about an hour - apparently on par with the best teams in the race. Huge confidence boost, then I slept for the rest of our mandatory time.
Leaving the relay, we knew we faced a massive night push to reach the boats. Ryan was really hurting with two huge climbs ahead - up to Lowell Mountain, then all the way up Sugarloaf. We committed to taking it slow and just persevering through this section.
The Albany general store was a revelation. Epic cheesesteaks and Reubens gave us the protein we desperately needed, but the real discovery was “Vermont Creamies” - basically giant maple-flavored ice cream cones that perfectly captured everything wonderful about racing in Vermont. We swapped out Ryan’s Pop-Tarts for nuts and fruits while we were there - much better fuel for the long haul ahead. The climbs were indeed insane, but we moved faster than anticipated.
Coming down off Sugarloaf provided two perfect Vermont moments: a self-serve maple syrup shack where we all grabbed bottles, and the Snowflake restaurant where we had beers and dinner with another team while entertaining the locals with our race stories.
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Two more 15-mile pushes followed: first to East Berkshire’s 24-hour store (TA6 had been canceled and turned into a checkpoint), then to the official TA where we’d get boats in the morning. Making it all the way there felt incredibly important - we were setting ourselves up for success on the final days.
Stage G: Pitawbagok, the “Lake in Between”
Missisquoi River and Lake Champlain: Day 5, Hour 20
30.6 mile paddle
I got maybe 30 minutes of sleep because Ryan’s snoring was at legendary levels and the ground was concrete-hard. This was our last sleep of the race - from here on out, the excitement of nearing the finish would carry us through the final push.
One portage, then river paddling for 10-12 miles that was perfectly pleasant. But then came Lake Champlain - the single most boring paddle I’ve ever experienced in adventure racing. I’m not going to sugarcoat it: it sucked. Flat, monotonous water that seemed to go on forever.
The excitement finally came at the end when the water started chopping up. JP and Jason flipped, and we had to help pull them to shore just as the Coast Guard called off the remaining racers. But we’d made it to TA7 with high spirits, knowing we were at the tail end of this epic journey.
Jason’s parents were there to greet us, which was a wonderful surprise after nearly seven days in the wilderness.
Stage H: The Scream
Hero Islands, Burlington: Day 6, Hour 10
40.4 mile bike
The final 40-mile bike ride was absolutely gorgeous, despite rain and increasing winds. We were only experiencing our second rain of the entire race, and knowing we were approaching the finish had us genuinely excited.
The most memorable moment of the entire race came at the Colchester Causeway ferry. High winds, a deep-sea fishing vessel taking bikes across choppy water just north of Burlington - I will never, ever forget that crossing. One of those perfect adventure racing moments that makes all the suffering worthwhile.
After the ferry, we encountered another team with a completely destroyed derailleur. This was becoming a theme - I think this was the fourth race where we’d stopped to perform emergency bike surgery for struggling teams. Out came the stick and duct tape, our tried-and-true field repair technique. Fifteen minutes of MacGyvering later, they had a functional single-speed that would carry them the final 15 miles to the finish. There’s something deeply satisfying about adventure racing karma - help others when you can, because you’ll inevitably need help yourself.
At the final decision point, we could either bike straight to the finish or transition to foot for a partial trek section. We chose feet, thinking we’d save Jason’s energy by only doing half the foot leg. I didn’t realize until afterwards that his feet were completely destroyed - the extent of the damage only became clear post-race.
But we made it, 6 days, 21 hours. 5 AM finish with our families waiting - an incredible surprise that made the emotional end even more powerful. Our brains were barely functioning after 36-48 hours without sleep at the end of a seven-day race. Just insane to think about.
Reflections on Seven Days
Endings are just Beginnings in Disguise
Looking back, this race showcased everything I love about adventure racing. The tactical decisions, the team dynamics, the incredible hospitality of Vermonters, the way our bodies and minds adapted to seven days of continuous challenge.
Our strategy decisions were mostly spot-on: skipping risky optionals early when foot care mattered, embracing the team tow concept, prioritizing mandatories when the course options opened up. Our biggest mistake - the B5/B6 detour - taught us valuable lessons about recovery and not digging deeper when you’re already in trouble.
But mostly, I’ll remember the people. The pizza shop staying open, the family cooking us burritos, the Snow Shoe Pub dinner, the GMARA volunteers with their grilled sandwiches. Brent designed a race that truly let us experience Vermont’s character, and that made all the difference.
Seven days. 50% longer than anything we’d attempted. And somehow, we made it through together, finishing as “the number one seeded 4p male team” with stories that will last a lifetime.
Until the next adventure calls.