Race Report: Bold Coast Bash 2021 by Ben Nephew
At this stage in my trail racing career, it is increasingly rare for me to be amazed by a trail or racecourse. I’ve been fortunate to run over some incredible terrain from Hopkinton, MA to the French Alps. When Ian Golden asked me to join him to race the Bold Coast Bash in northern Maine (and by northern I mean right on the Canadian Border), I was interested but not overly excited. My running history includes Maine, where I gained some of my technical trail running ability during summers spent on the southern ME coast where most of the day involved traversing the rocky, seaweed covered shore at high speed in search for the next tidal pond full of biological treasures. The joy of summer vacations from many moons ago has been recently rekindled by trips to Long Island, off the coast of Portland, where I again spent much of the time traversing the rocky shore, this time establishing an FKT.
I had gotten used to not racing during the pandemic, but the course description of the 10 mile figure 8 we would be doing 3 times caught my attention.
“A seriously challenging single track trail race along the stunning cliffs of the Bold Coast, then back inland through mud and rocks and along slippery bog bridging. The course does not have huge amounts of elevation change but can be extremely slippery, particularly with rain and ice as there may be on race day. The roots are slippery, the rocks are slippery, the mud is slippery, the bog bridging is extremely slippery, and some of it is also wobbly, broken, unstable and in many places has 6” long nails projecting from it. Other sections behave like a teeter-totter and if you (or someone else) steps on one end, the other end, may flip up in someone’s face. Please be careful – and along the unfenced cliff tops!” - Bold Coast Runners
I’m a fan of races in cooler temps, and it would be good to see Ian. I was looking forward so much to catching up with Ian that my plan was to run with him no matter what was happening in the race. Even at a high rate of speed, it was an eight hour haul to get to the trailhead the day before the race. I made it in time to get in a run on the course, and any regrets about driving that far to do another trail race disappeared within minutes of entering the woods.
The smell of balsam was intoxicating and the trail was a picture perfect ribbon of tech through more shades of green than I knew existed. Not easy running by any measure, but well designed and a great challenge. Far before I could see the water, I heard the deafening pounding of the waves on the seaside cliffs. There had been high winds throughout the day, and ten foot waves were hurtling in towards the coast. I have heard all sorts of surf, but I never knew that waves could move a beach made solely of fist sized rocks like they were grains of sand. The sound produced from that is wild. Between the balsam, the setting sun lighting up the waves and the cliffs, the 40 mph wind and the crashing waves, it was sensory overload.
I ran along the section of trail along the coast until I was almost completely out of daylight and barely made it back to the car before the woods went pitch black. Although I already had a place to stay, there are two incredible cliffside campsites on the course route. I could not wait to start the race the next day and see the entire 10.5 mile loop. The only hitch in my first day in Cutler Maine was trying to find a restaurant open in November. That took some driving, but I finally got dinner and headed back to the community center where I was staying to prep for the race.
It was cold and dark for our 5:30 start, but the winds were mild and the forecast was perfect for racing, low 50’s. Ian and I survived the gear check with some last minute additions for him, and we entered the magical portal to the Bold Coast. It went from a stunning sunset lighting the day before to a front row seat to an ocean side sunrise. It was great to be able to share this scene with Ian, and not be too stressed with racing to thoroughly enjoy it. Not to say that Ian was not making good time, although he complained that he was undertrained for 30 miles, his pace did not indicate this. Fortunately, the terrain close to the ocean was a bit easier, allowing us to enjoy the views and not fall 50 feet onto the rocky coast below. As we traversed the more inland sections of the course, our eyes were glued to the ground, trying to navigate some of the nastiest root gardens I have even seen. The only breaks from the roots were slick rock gardens or log bridges of doom. I was not regretting opting out of wearing spiked Orocs until we got to some of the famous log bridges on the course. I swear they coat those things with oil, they were slicker than ice.
Our 30 miler pace definitely helped make the trail more manageable, it would surely be an intense experience at full speed. The ridiculous scenery also helped keep the pace under control, where we almost stopped a few times trying to make sense of the seemingly animated forest and coastal scenes. It was so surreal it was hard to process at times. We finished the first loop in second and third place, well behind Thomas Merrow in the lead. Ian was doing well, but suggested I go on and chase Thomas. I told him I had done enough racing and his pace was good enough for me. While the loop was the same, the changing lighting made it seem quite different, and brutal substrate was starting to wear on the legs. It was also mentally challenging to traverse such consistently technical terrain.
Ian’s pace started to slow, and while I stayed with him for most of the second loop, it was clear he would be backing off our pace, and so I told him I’d see him at the finish and decided to see how hard I could run the last lap. I caught up with Thomas at the start/finish and left before he did. The trail was again different on that third loop, mostly due to tired legs, mental fatigue, and the increased effort. I was able to avoid several falls with my cat-like reflexes, but one of the bridges of doom got me. I went down so quickly I barely got my hands out to save my face from a large nail sticking out of the rotten bridge. A bit more caution was exercised after that, but it did not make the trail much easier due to my accumulated fatigue and bridge induced terror.
I held it together for the win, and Ian thoroughly enjoyed himself documenting the course over the last lap. The post-race feast was as impressive as the course, and we had fun chatting with the local tight knit trail running community. While coming up north for this race is highly recommended, it is worth the drive, from anywhere, just to run the loop and some of the other trails in the area. I was sad to leave after such a short trip and will surely return with the family.
