Distance-wise, it's barely an ultra marathon, only 32.5 miles. It's not really an adventure race since you're not mixing up kayaking, mountain biking etc. The Damn Wakely Dam Ultra is a point-to-point run on a 32.6 mile section of the Northville Lake Placid Trail in the central Adirondack Mountains. No roads cross the trail; there are no feed stations, no aid of any sort. You have to carry whatever you need. Perhaps calling it an adventure run is appropriate.
I drove up to Wakely Dam after work on Friday night. From Indian Lake, you turn on to Cedar River Road. The last 6 miles is middling-quality dirt, where driving at 15 mph is reckless abandon. I found a place to park the Subaru Motel, rolled out the sleeping bag and dozed off.
At 4:30 AM, I was riding a school bus down to the start and feeling a little anxious. I've had some nagging tendonitis since fall 2003, and what if I couldn't get to the finish before dark? I'd bought into the scare stories on the web site about being prepared to spend a night out. A space blanket, 2 hats, a cheesy but useful nylon vest... don't forget the hydration pack, energy bars and gels. As we piled out of the bus, I looked around. Some of the competition had just as much dunnage as I; most were travelling a lot lighter.
The race started from the trail register in Piseco. At the start, Bob Dion and 3 others took off at a pace I knew I couldn't match. I fell in behind a couple of people, content to warm up for a couple of kilometers. Then I made my way around them and picked up steam.
The first few kilometers were easy going, through a mixture of birch and other hardwood. After about
5 - 8 km, however, the trail became progressively more technical, gradually morphing from a smooth path to
what you're more accustomed to in the Adirondacks: rocks mixed in with mud and roots. 
It had rained during the week,
making for copious amounts of mud. Despite the lack of big hills, from about mile 5 to mile 27, it's as tough as anything I've run on.
Blowdown blocked the trail in many places and you had to pick your way around -- and be sure you got back
on the trail. The race director, Jim Houghtaling, said that there were a good 20 blowdowns on the trail; I think he
under estimated. It seemed like a garden of wet rocks or logs would break my rhythm every few minutes, or I'd be running
along and one foot would go ankle deep into mud, stopping me in my tracks.
Further north, in the High Peaks, you very seldom have solitude on the trail or on a summit any more. Maybe it's the lack of imposing summits; maybe it's the lack of easy access by car: any way you slice it, this part of the world is remote. I heard loons calling as I ran along Spruce Lake; I encountered 2 backpackers heading south around the 20-mile mark; and that was it except for other runners.
About 3 - 4 miles before the West Canada Lakes, the trail just seemed to stop dead. Looking around, pretty sure I'd gotten lost, I saw a primitive bridge at the edge of the pond below me. Another runner almost made the same mistake I did until I called out to him. We ran together for a couple of miles until he passed me and pulled away. At this point we came to the aforementioned lakes -- crossing South Lake, and running along West Lake and then Mud Lake. Marking the halfway point, this is some of the most spectacular country I've seen in the Adirondacks. Running along, sometimes in waist-high grass with your foot going into ankle-deep mud every other step. The views along the lakes were well worth stinky feet.
Although I never really got going hard, I was made good time over the first 18 miles or so. I passed the fellow who had gapped me when he stopped to fill his hydration pack at (I think) the appealingly named and quite beautiful Mud Creek. A few miles later I had to stop for water myself. When I planned for the race, I thought I'd save time by dipping the mouth of my hydration pack into the stream and tossing in iodine tablets. After all it takes a long time to fill one of these things with a water purifier. It turns out there's some law of physics that these things don't fill up when you put them in water. Archimedes must have known that 2000 years before the invention of plastic; somehow I overlooked it. It was a struggle to get a quart of water in there, and my competitor just rolled right by. By the way, Cytomax® tastes terrible in water that's been treated with iodine.
We were about 20 miles into the race. Since the start, I'd seen only this one other runner -- who I believe was the eventual 5th place finisher, Franz Haas. I ran without drinking for 45 minutes to let the iodine do its magic. I was beginning to slow down a bit, and the day was as sunny and bright as it would get. I encountered 2 backpackers heading south and asked them, "What is it, 12 miles to Wakely Dam?" They assured me I was closer. A mile later I came to a clearing beside Cedar Lake, where 2 rangers were relaxing in a lean-to. Nine miles to Wakely, they said.
Out of water again, I went down to the lake to struggle with the hydration pack. Inge Aiken, who would be the first female finisher, joined me. She was either more successful or less patient than I with her hydration pack: she started filling after I did and was moving before I was done. As she headed out, I saw 3 additional runners go past the lean-to. I hitched up and got going again.
My pace slowed down even more as I left Cedar Lake. There was a long section through tall grass, so narrow it resembled an animal track more than a trail. There were no markers; for about 15 minutes I was sure I'd strayed off the trail. After 25 minutes, I finally saw a trail marker. I was also looking for familiar sights. My wife and I had hiked south from Wakely Dam over July 4 to scope out the terrain; now I began to get a little demoralized, not finding a familiar landmark.
Descending a long grade an hour after Cedar Lake, I recognized a bridge over a creek.
Success! I crossed the creek and picked up the pace running through a marsh. The trail widened and morphed into a fire road.
The last 5 miles had easier footing -- almost like a highway compared to what I'd been through. The sun beat down mercilessly on the old, grass-covered road. Then back into the woods, alongside Cedar River Flow, and finally off the trail and on to the dirt road that leads down to Wakely Dam. The last 3 miles to the dam seemed to take forever, but I wasn't moving too fast anymore. I dug down for a sprint across the dam to the finish, and I was done.
This is the only race where I've thought in the middle, "God I'm never coming back here." But the scenery was was awesome, and I hope to make it back.
If you're interested in running Wakely Dam, sign the guest book early, and start scoping the web site. The DEC limits the size of the field in order to minimize impact on the trail.