The Acadia Round - Miles of Mountains
I looked down at my watch. Waving back and forth in the afternoon light I struggled to focus on the numbers. I stopped to understand what I was seeing.
1-7-1.
Sweat pours down my face covering my eyes every few seconds, my visor relegated to nothing but a sunshade. My body was heating up quickly, I couldn’t cool down and my heart was racing.
171bpm.
“I’m going downhill” I thought to myself...
Coming down off a steep rooty descent I watched my friends peel off in front of me. One after another disappeared into the spruce forest, bedding of soft pine needles under foot, surely enjoying every step. I looked on through the trees and wondered how much longer I could go on.
How could I possibly go on? I felt weak. Tired. On the verge of heat exhaustion with no improvement in sight.
It was mile 6 and I had 62 more miles to go.
1-7-1.
Sweat pours down my face covering my eyes every few seconds, my visor relegated to nothing but a sunshade. My body was heating up quickly, I couldn’t cool down and my heart was racing.
171bpm.
“I’m going downhill” I thought to myself...
Coming down off a steep rooty descent I watched my friends peel off in front of me. One after another disappeared into the spruce forest, bedding of soft pine needles under foot, surely enjoying every step. I looked on through the trees and wondered how much longer I could go on.
How could I possibly go on? I felt weak. Tired. On the verge of heat exhaustion with no improvement in sight.
It was mile 6 and I had 62 more miles to go.
Dougherty’s do not quit.
I’ve always found that the true measure of something great, is the amount you had to suffer to reach it. This has been especially true in the sport of ultrarunning for me, attempting something that holds so much fear within the anticipatory weeks and months that you’re afraid of what may happen out there. Not in the terms of how “safe” it is, but in how much suffering it is going to take to reach your goal. Such was the way in the Acadia Round, a route so devious it could devour you in a multitude of ways. The highest point is barely over 1500 feet in elevation, yet the trail is riddled with more roots than imaginable, more rocks than necessary and miles of bedrock granite that any set of legs should have to withstand. All with grades above 30-45% so often your body begins to beg for anything resembling something flat. Its a course with miles of backcountry navigation, scaling rock walls to reach unnamed peaks and wandering around in the dark in hopes of finding that one obscure peak nobody will care you ever tagged.
Running across Mount Desert Island, home to Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor, Maine, is no easy feat for all of those reasons. Yet it remains as beautiful as it is challenging. Mixed in with the hellish roots, are stretches of pine needle heaven weaved through young pine tree stands. Ocean waves crashing along the coastline as you run by, the first sunrise in America as the fog covers everything below you. Stars you could never count or ever lose interest in, and a wild and raw quality of wilderness your mind never fully grasps.
It is everything Maine, all wrapped up in one little island.
Its nothing short of magical.
So with 6 miles under our belt, and already wanting to quit, I did what any self respecting ultrarunner does when they want to quit.
Run another 20 miles and reassess.
Running across Mount Desert Island, home to Acadia National Park and Bar Harbor, Maine, is no easy feat for all of those reasons. Yet it remains as beautiful as it is challenging. Mixed in with the hellish roots, are stretches of pine needle heaven weaved through young pine tree stands. Ocean waves crashing along the coastline as you run by, the first sunrise in America as the fog covers everything below you. Stars you could never count or ever lose interest in, and a wild and raw quality of wilderness your mind never fully grasps.
It is everything Maine, all wrapped up in one little island.
Its nothing short of magical.
So with 6 miles under our belt, and already wanting to quit, I did what any self respecting ultrarunner does when they want to quit.
Run another 20 miles and reassess.
Mile 26 - Little Long Pong - Land & Garden Preserve
We descended off Sargent in the setting sunlight with renewed glee. The forested trails wandered from cliff edge to cliff edge, working its way down the mountain in a long winding path that felt great on the legs after hours of vertical pounding. The steps felt easy, the stride long, and the miles quick. Crossing into the Land & Garden preserve we had but a few miles until we reached our “big” aid station stop at the marathon mark along the banks of Little Long Pond. Stopping at Eliot Mountain summit we sat.
We sat until we laid. Suddenly the four of us were laying on our backs on the forest floor just staring up at the sky. The light was fading fast and we didn’t have the time to lose with none of us having headlamps until the next aid station. We laid there anyway and for a few precious minutes we said nothing.
Time passed in what seemed like the longest few minutes and we sprung up with a new bounce in our step. Bounding down the mountain we crossed onto the Richard Trail, up the rocky cliffs to the infamous door in the forest. Passing through to the other side we crossed to the banks of Little Long Pond, the remainder of the days sunlight brightening up the area as it bounced off the lake. We talked, laughed and sped through until we could hear our family cheering.
26 miles in and we were there.
We sat until we laid. Suddenly the four of us were laying on our backs on the forest floor just staring up at the sky. The light was fading fast and we didn’t have the time to lose with none of us having headlamps until the next aid station. We laid there anyway and for a few precious minutes we said nothing.
Time passed in what seemed like the longest few minutes and we sprung up with a new bounce in our step. Bounding down the mountain we crossed onto the Richard Trail, up the rocky cliffs to the infamous door in the forest. Passing through to the other side we crossed to the banks of Little Long Pond, the remainder of the days sunlight brightening up the area as it bounced off the lake. We talked, laughed and sped through until we could hear our family cheering.
26 miles in and we were there.
The Night
“Don’t ever quit an ultra at 4am.”
Sound advice that becomes relevant when you hit 4am in any race. Your body is tired and hurting, your mind exhausted, and your eyes just want to close.
The night shift of any ultra is tough. We powered up Barr Hill, Redfield, Day, The Triad and then Pemetic without much issue and with much laughter. One after another in the group would disappear into The Dungeon, the place nobody wants to go but everyone must go at some point. They’d stop talking and you could tell they were battling some form of demon. Fatigue, nagging soreness or just a depression in their motivation. It always passes so we’d tuck that person into the single file group and pull them along until they came out of it. Our pace never changed for anyone, they just kept up.
South Bubble, North Bubble, and then Connors Nubble. We’re still sweating, our clothes are drenched, and we’re all tired. What was hours ago a mental sureity that I’d need to quit has become a long gone distant memory. Thirty miles in and I was just hitting my stride and finishing was a certainty. Now it was only a matter of time and suffering.
Coming out of the forest off Connors Nubble we ran along a short stretch of carriage road and to the Eagle Lake Carriage Road aid station. It was 1am and we were closing in on the infamous pre-dawn hours that are often the most difficult. Picking up new runners Jenn and the return of Judson to the crew we fled into the woods aiming for the obscure peak of Brewer Mountain. There is no discernible trail, just bushwhacking up the underbrush until you hit the summit. Returning what we thought was the same way we traversed more tick infested brush before starting up Young’s & McFarland’s mountain in Acadia’s backcountry. Having done both in the night on previous adventures I was confident we could stay on the primitive trail without issue, and within minutes I was proven wrong. Wandering for a bit we took off in generally the right direction, descending off the Young’s Mountain down a deer trail to the carriage roads. Miles were wearing on, the jokes became fewer, the stories become shorter.
Along the road we came to Great Hill. Its a small climb. The fog had rolled in and the forest was more ominous by the minute. Croaking of bullfrogs left us uneasy, the fog making it hard to see in front of you as you made your way through the trees. Upon summiting the small Great Hill, I peeled off down a trail I’d traversed several times before. Its a quick quarter mile down to the road and the start of our biggest climb.
A half mile later we were in a gully. Wandering. I’d led everyone the wrong way.
Through the woods we marched. Quiet. Annoyed. Tired.
Popping out on Eagle Lake Road, well off the mark, we re-united with the sleeping John in the parking lot and refueled for our climb up Cadillac Mountain. It was 3:45am and nobody was in the mood for talking.
Sound advice that becomes relevant when you hit 4am in any race. Your body is tired and hurting, your mind exhausted, and your eyes just want to close.
The night shift of any ultra is tough. We powered up Barr Hill, Redfield, Day, The Triad and then Pemetic without much issue and with much laughter. One after another in the group would disappear into The Dungeon, the place nobody wants to go but everyone must go at some point. They’d stop talking and you could tell they were battling some form of demon. Fatigue, nagging soreness or just a depression in their motivation. It always passes so we’d tuck that person into the single file group and pull them along until they came out of it. Our pace never changed for anyone, they just kept up.
South Bubble, North Bubble, and then Connors Nubble. We’re still sweating, our clothes are drenched, and we’re all tired. What was hours ago a mental sureity that I’d need to quit has become a long gone distant memory. Thirty miles in and I was just hitting my stride and finishing was a certainty. Now it was only a matter of time and suffering.
Coming out of the forest off Connors Nubble we ran along a short stretch of carriage road and to the Eagle Lake Carriage Road aid station. It was 1am and we were closing in on the infamous pre-dawn hours that are often the most difficult. Picking up new runners Jenn and the return of Judson to the crew we fled into the woods aiming for the obscure peak of Brewer Mountain. There is no discernible trail, just bushwhacking up the underbrush until you hit the summit. Returning what we thought was the same way we traversed more tick infested brush before starting up Young’s & McFarland’s mountain in Acadia’s backcountry. Having done both in the night on previous adventures I was confident we could stay on the primitive trail without issue, and within minutes I was proven wrong. Wandering for a bit we took off in generally the right direction, descending off the Young’s Mountain down a deer trail to the carriage roads. Miles were wearing on, the jokes became fewer, the stories become shorter.
Along the road we came to Great Hill. Its a small climb. The fog had rolled in and the forest was more ominous by the minute. Croaking of bullfrogs left us uneasy, the fog making it hard to see in front of you as you made your way through the trees. Upon summiting the small Great Hill, I peeled off down a trail I’d traversed several times before. Its a quick quarter mile down to the road and the start of our biggest climb.
A half mile later we were in a gully. Wandering. I’d led everyone the wrong way.
Through the woods we marched. Quiet. Annoyed. Tired.
Popping out on Eagle Lake Road, well off the mark, we re-united with the sleeping John in the parking lot and refueled for our climb up Cadillac Mountain. It was 3:45am and nobody was in the mood for talking.
Cadillac Mountain sunrise
The auto road up Cadillac Mountain is filled with tourists coming to catch the earliest sunrise in the United States. Its easy for them, they just drive to the top. The hardest part for them is waking up so early to catch it just right. For us, we were 45 miles deep and had climbed 30 some mountains to this point, kayaked across Somes Sound and were closing in on 24 hours awake without any sleep. Power hiking up the road to our next peak, Whitecap, I bounced from side to side like a ping pong down a hallway. Closing my eyes for a few brief steps and re-opening them felt like productive naps, a process I repeated for a few miles with little success. We tagged Whitecap then connect with the north ridge trail to finish the climb.
Not a mere couple steps onto the trail and we hear a yell from the road. Our friend Peter hops out of a car and jumps in with us, an evening after running the first 13 miles with us at the start of the adventure. He bounded up the cliff ahead of us with his dog with a youthful exuberance that at 4am was nothing short of amazing. His enthusiasm was infectious to all of us and in combination with the sunrise hitting the rocky peak, we were renewed and awake again. Beyond the threshold of quitting, fully enwrapped with completing this adventure.
Not a mere couple steps onto the trail and we hear a yell from the road. Our friend Peter hops out of a car and jumps in with us, an evening after running the first 13 miles with us at the start of the adventure. He bounded up the cliff ahead of us with his dog with a youthful exuberance that at 4am was nothing short of amazing. His enthusiasm was infectious to all of us and in combination with the sunrise hitting the rocky peak, we were renewed and awake again. Beyond the threshold of quitting, fully enwrapped with completing this adventure.
The Dylan
After a while, a mountain is a mountain. You go up, you come down, you just keep going. Cadillac Mountain, Dike’s Peak, Eagle’s Crag, Great Head, Gorham...one after another we clicked off steep climb, rough terrain and counted one down after another.
Stopping along the trail we looked at each other. Halfway Mountain was next. There is no trail. None of us had scouted it.
It was 7am. I looked at Dylan.
Dylan took off straight up the mountain.
I looked up ahead of him on the route he had just chosen for us all.
Straight up and it was a wall of rock. And he was long gone.
Nobody said a word, everyone followed and the climbing began. Hand over hand, foot over foot, we all scaled the rocky cliffs as if this was “normal.” As if this route was anything close to reasonable, safe, logical or sound in any stretch of the imagination.
At that point, nobody cared. It was the straightest and most direct route. We were all in.
At the top, we descended down what was decidedly not the trail. Cobwebs, broken logs, tree branches in our faces and straight back to the trail Dylan took us. Up to the Beehive we passed some hikers for the first time in hours. “Are you the people doing that 24 hour Acadia thing?”
I said nothing and kept going. Someone in our group talked to them and we trudged on to the summit. Coming up on the popular Beehive summit the always cheerful Daniel Cortes awaited us. Another returning runner from the first section on the west side, Daniel was a welcome sight as we headed up another off-trail peak in Enoch Mountain. Dylan was still raging on whatever was pumping through is veins and went up the cliffs of Enoch with a sense of purpose I would have paid good money for in that moment. We hit the top, turned around and headed through the wreckage of the underbrush before meeting up with another friend in Lori for one of our last big climbs.
Champlain.
Stopping along the trail we looked at each other. Halfway Mountain was next. There is no trail. None of us had scouted it.
It was 7am. I looked at Dylan.
Dylan took off straight up the mountain.
I looked up ahead of him on the route he had just chosen for us all.
Straight up and it was a wall of rock. And he was long gone.
Nobody said a word, everyone followed and the climbing began. Hand over hand, foot over foot, we all scaled the rocky cliffs as if this was “normal.” As if this route was anything close to reasonable, safe, logical or sound in any stretch of the imagination.
At that point, nobody cared. It was the straightest and most direct route. We were all in.
At the top, we descended down what was decidedly not the trail. Cobwebs, broken logs, tree branches in our faces and straight back to the trail Dylan took us. Up to the Beehive we passed some hikers for the first time in hours. “Are you the people doing that 24 hour Acadia thing?”
I said nothing and kept going. Someone in our group talked to them and we trudged on to the summit. Coming up on the popular Beehive summit the always cheerful Daniel Cortes awaited us. Another returning runner from the first section on the west side, Daniel was a welcome sight as we headed up another off-trail peak in Enoch Mountain. Dylan was still raging on whatever was pumping through is veins and went up the cliffs of Enoch with a sense of purpose I would have paid good money for in that moment. We hit the top, turned around and headed through the wreckage of the underbrush before meeting up with another friend in Lori for one of our last big climbs.
Champlain.
The Finish
Champlain came and went without issue and the descent into Dorr became the focus. With 24 hours the goal of the event, we were getting stressfully close as we descended off the peak towards The Tarn. We reached our final aid station with fritta’s and home fries waiting for us but with no time to eat it. Push on or bail on the 24 hours? We had 1:10 to cover about 5 miles and climb another 1300 feet...did we have it us??
We reluctantly decided we did and headed off up Kurt Dietrich trail, chased by a hoard of supportive children on the hunt for more frogs. The stairs of Kurt Dietrich quickly beat back down the adrenaline of finishing. Granite steps ascending the steep cliffs pulled on the last strands of motivation. Slowing to a crawl it took several switchbacks to regain the climbing legs. Coming to the cliffs of northern Dorr a group of people heading down cheered us on, seemingly knowing what we were doing and how deep into the adventure we must have been. “We’re friends with Darron Collins” they said. With that we smiled, and powered on with the burst of encouragement to the top of Dorr, our final big climb.
Heading down the north ridge of Dorr Mountain the town of Bar Harbor and our finish line stares back at us. Up Kebo Mountain, down Kebo and into town. Running the streets of Bar Harbor we dodged and weaved on the sidewalks and all the masked pedestrians headed out for lunch. It was 12:28 pm when we cross Mount Desert Street and saw our family but we heard them long before. Lined up on the Village Green we came into a row of screaming fans, arms outstretched with admiration and cheers, COVID be damned. We crossed those last few steps to the finish line goal of the old town clock and touched all together.
It took 24 hours and 28 minutes to cover 68+miles. 17,000 feet of gain over 42 named peaks in Acadia National Park and beyond. We ran/hiked every step, and kayaked the crossing. While not “round” we still fondly call it The Acadia Round, our own version of something that challenges you to the core, while celebrating everything that is this beautiful little island.
Darron Collins hiked 40 peaks back in 2015 in about 27 hours, driving between some of the peaks. We don’t know of anyone else that has done this or anything similar before. Rebeccah may just be the only female to complete something like this on MDI. John Rodrigue ran 100 miles in Acadia in 2018, still the longest and likely most challenging route anyone has tackled on this island.
For us, it was less about being a first or the toughest. It was more an opportunity to share together what we all love. Mountains, forests, the ocean and the weather. Suffering, success, laughter and pain. Its an opportunity to challenge ourselves to new levels and testing ourselves constantly. Pushing through the lows with friends builds a bond not found in the corporate office, and pride in your friends for doing so cannot ever be matched in those same offices.
This one was pretty special for all the support from friends and family throughout the time we were out there. My wife Jen and my sister-in-law Jeanine for some incredible aid stations (mashed potato burritos were legit!) at Flying Mountain, Little Long Pond and The Tarn. Judson Cake joined us for 40 some miles, Jenn Britz for the overnight section with us. Todd & Charlotte Stanley for biking down to cheer us on at Little Long Pond. The Chase family for coming to the finish line and cheer us on. Daniel Cortes, Peter Philbrook for the early and late miles. Lori Alley for the final push to the finish. John Rodrigue for spending the entire night chasing us around and providing us with those extra water and aid stops, without that we would have been wrecked. Most of all, I’m grateful to have been able to complete this with my brother Noah. Over the years we’ve been able to tackle some amazing adventures together and this one with him is particularly special given we now live 3000 miles apart. Seeing him struggling with the rest of us, and then finishing strong like he always does only adds to the pride I have for him.
Acadia Round complete.
Onto the next....
We reluctantly decided we did and headed off up Kurt Dietrich trail, chased by a hoard of supportive children on the hunt for more frogs. The stairs of Kurt Dietrich quickly beat back down the adrenaline of finishing. Granite steps ascending the steep cliffs pulled on the last strands of motivation. Slowing to a crawl it took several switchbacks to regain the climbing legs. Coming to the cliffs of northern Dorr a group of people heading down cheered us on, seemingly knowing what we were doing and how deep into the adventure we must have been. “We’re friends with Darron Collins” they said. With that we smiled, and powered on with the burst of encouragement to the top of Dorr, our final big climb.
Heading down the north ridge of Dorr Mountain the town of Bar Harbor and our finish line stares back at us. Up Kebo Mountain, down Kebo and into town. Running the streets of Bar Harbor we dodged and weaved on the sidewalks and all the masked pedestrians headed out for lunch. It was 12:28 pm when we cross Mount Desert Street and saw our family but we heard them long before. Lined up on the Village Green we came into a row of screaming fans, arms outstretched with admiration and cheers, COVID be damned. We crossed those last few steps to the finish line goal of the old town clock and touched all together.
It took 24 hours and 28 minutes to cover 68+miles. 17,000 feet of gain over 42 named peaks in Acadia National Park and beyond. We ran/hiked every step, and kayaked the crossing. While not “round” we still fondly call it The Acadia Round, our own version of something that challenges you to the core, while celebrating everything that is this beautiful little island.
Darron Collins hiked 40 peaks back in 2015 in about 27 hours, driving between some of the peaks. We don’t know of anyone else that has done this or anything similar before. Rebeccah may just be the only female to complete something like this on MDI. John Rodrigue ran 100 miles in Acadia in 2018, still the longest and likely most challenging route anyone has tackled on this island.
For us, it was less about being a first or the toughest. It was more an opportunity to share together what we all love. Mountains, forests, the ocean and the weather. Suffering, success, laughter and pain. Its an opportunity to challenge ourselves to new levels and testing ourselves constantly. Pushing through the lows with friends builds a bond not found in the corporate office, and pride in your friends for doing so cannot ever be matched in those same offices.
This one was pretty special for all the support from friends and family throughout the time we were out there. My wife Jen and my sister-in-law Jeanine for some incredible aid stations (mashed potato burritos were legit!) at Flying Mountain, Little Long Pond and The Tarn. Judson Cake joined us for 40 some miles, Jenn Britz for the overnight section with us. Todd & Charlotte Stanley for biking down to cheer us on at Little Long Pond. The Chase family for coming to the finish line and cheer us on. Daniel Cortes, Peter Philbrook for the early and late miles. Lori Alley for the final push to the finish. John Rodrigue for spending the entire night chasing us around and providing us with those extra water and aid stops, without that we would have been wrecked. Most of all, I’m grateful to have been able to complete this with my brother Noah. Over the years we’ve been able to tackle some amazing adventures together and this one with him is particularly special given we now live 3000 miles apart. Seeing him struggling with the rest of us, and then finishing strong like he always does only adds to the pride I have for him.
Acadia Round complete.
Onto the next....
The Bob Graham Round - The Acadia Round
For all the years of trail running I’ve been fortunate to experience, my dream event has always been the Bob Graham Round. Located in the Lake District in England, it encompasses some amazing terrain that for generations has been home to people that love to just go up and down mountains. The Bob Graham Round has 42 peaks, 66 miles and 27,000 feet of gain with the goal for most to be completed within 24 hours, finishing in the town of Keswick, England.
When I was in Phoenix planning our family move to Maine, I purchased a map of Acadia. The day it arrived I poured over the possibilities within all the trails it showed, and within minutes it was clear a “Round” could be done here. Ever since, four years later, I’ve thought about giving it a go with the hopes that we can be the first of many that give such a feat a try. Our mountains are not as large as those in the UK, but our trails are undoubtably more challenging. What we are “short’ on climbing, we more than make up for in technical terrain, and a feat that certainly will not come easy.
When I was in Phoenix planning our family move to Maine, I purchased a map of Acadia. The day it arrived I poured over the possibilities within all the trails it showed, and within minutes it was clear a “Round” could be done here. Ever since, four years later, I’ve thought about giving it a go with the hopes that we can be the first of many that give such a feat a try. Our mountains are not as large as those in the UK, but our trails are undoubtably more challenging. What we are “short’ on climbing, we more than make up for in technical terrain, and a feat that certainly will not come easy.
The Acadia Round
Start Time: Noon
Date: June 27th, 2020
Start Location: Seal Cove Road (west entrance)
Finish Location: Village Green Clock - Bar Harbor, Maine
Statistics:
42 Peaks & Named Geographic Features of Acadia National Park and Mount Desert Island
Miles: 65+
Elevation Gain: 18,000+
Goal Time: Sub 24 Hours. Finish by 12 noon at the clock on Sunday, June 28th, 2020.
Supported Event: Aid provided at multiple locations throughout the course, carrying only water and food as needed between checkpoints, -7-15 miles apart.
Aid Locations:
Flying Mountain Trailhead, mile 14. Estimated arrival 4pm
Little Long Pond Parking lot, mile 26. Estimated arrival time 8:30pm
Eagle Lake Carriage Road, mile 36. Estimated arrival time 12 midnight
Cadillac Mountain Summit, mile 46. Estimated arrival time 2:30am
Gorham Trailhead, mile 51. Estimated arrival time 5am.
Sand Beach, mile 54. Estimated arrival time 630am.
The Tarn, mile 58. Estimated arrival time 9am.
Village Green Finish Line, mile 65. Estimated arrival time NOON SUNDAY.
Peaks Included
1. Bernard Mountain
2. Little Notch
3. Knights Nubble
4. Mansell Mountain
5. Beech Mountain
6. Acadia Mountain
7. Valley Peak
8. St. Sauveur
9. Flying Mountain
10. Norumbega Mountain
11. Bald Mountain
12. Parkman Mountain
13. Gilmore Peak
14. Sargent Mountain
15. Cedar Swamp
16. Eliot Mountain
17. Barr Hill
18. Redfield Hill
19. Day Mountain
20. Triad
21. Pemetic Mountain
22. South Bubble
23. North Bubble
24. Connors Nubble
25. Brewer Mountain
26. McFarland Mountain
27. Young’s Mountain
28. Great Hill
29. The Whitecap
30. Cadillac Mountain
31. Eagles Crag
32. Gorham Mountain
33. Halfway Mountain
34. Great Head
35. Beehive
36. Enoch Mountain
37. Champlain Mountain
38. Huguenot Mountain
39. Dorr Mountain
40. Kebo Mountain
41. Great Notch
42. Dikes Peak
Date: June 27th, 2020
Start Location: Seal Cove Road (west entrance)
Finish Location: Village Green Clock - Bar Harbor, Maine
Statistics:
42 Peaks & Named Geographic Features of Acadia National Park and Mount Desert Island
Miles: 65+
Elevation Gain: 18,000+
Goal Time: Sub 24 Hours. Finish by 12 noon at the clock on Sunday, June 28th, 2020.
Supported Event: Aid provided at multiple locations throughout the course, carrying only water and food as needed between checkpoints, -7-15 miles apart.
Aid Locations:
Flying Mountain Trailhead, mile 14. Estimated arrival 4pm
Little Long Pond Parking lot, mile 26. Estimated arrival time 8:30pm
Eagle Lake Carriage Road, mile 36. Estimated arrival time 12 midnight
Cadillac Mountain Summit, mile 46. Estimated arrival time 2:30am
Gorham Trailhead, mile 51. Estimated arrival time 5am.
Sand Beach, mile 54. Estimated arrival time 630am.
The Tarn, mile 58. Estimated arrival time 9am.
Village Green Finish Line, mile 65. Estimated arrival time NOON SUNDAY.
Peaks Included
1. Bernard Mountain
2. Little Notch
3. Knights Nubble
4. Mansell Mountain
5. Beech Mountain
6. Acadia Mountain
7. Valley Peak
8. St. Sauveur
9. Flying Mountain
10. Norumbega Mountain
11. Bald Mountain
12. Parkman Mountain
13. Gilmore Peak
14. Sargent Mountain
15. Cedar Swamp
16. Eliot Mountain
17. Barr Hill
18. Redfield Hill
19. Day Mountain
20. Triad
21. Pemetic Mountain
22. South Bubble
23. North Bubble
24. Connors Nubble
25. Brewer Mountain
26. McFarland Mountain
27. Young’s Mountain
28. Great Hill
29. The Whitecap
30. Cadillac Mountain
31. Eagles Crag
32. Gorham Mountain
33. Halfway Mountain
34. Great Head
35. Beehive
36. Enoch Mountain
37. Champlain Mountain
38. Huguenot Mountain
39. Dorr Mountain
40. Kebo Mountain
41. Great Notch
42. Dikes Peak
Course Files - GPX & KMZ - CalTopo Link: https://caltopo.com/m/NAFN
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