Where The Mountains Are Beautiful & Stairs Are Forever: Vibram Hong Kong 100km Race Report (Hong Kong, China)

The Cold Wind Blows

The Vibram Hong Kong 100 Ultra Trail Race is an annual event which takes place every January, over the trails of the Sai Kung Peninsular and the New Territories. In its third year running for 2013, this increasingly popular ultramarathon has seen a participation figure of over 1,200 runners, including a Singapore contingent of about 104 people.

Registration for the event commenced on September 2012 but all available spots were filled up within a few days. I was one of the lucky ones to be able sign up on time before my hesitation got the better of me.

Elevation profile for the Vibram Hong Kong 100 2013. Courtesy of Lloyd Belcher.

The day came on 19^th January, Saturday, as participants gathered at Tai Mong Tsai Road, located at Pak Tam Chung, the Sai Kung Peninsular. Runners caught up in final-minutes chat while some are still conducting gear preparations. The rest either made quick visits to the public toilet or are collecting race packs from event officials.

Racers gathering at a small park near the start line, Tai Mong Tsai Road (top / above). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Nearing 8am, a microphone broadcast of a female voice broke over the event site. That must be Janet Ng, one of HK100’s race directors, as she was calling for runners to position themselves according to the number of hours they are expected to complete. Being realistic about my expected timing considering this was my first time here, I stood a safe distance away from the front pack which were attempting to finish the race in 16 hours or less.

Team Singapore: Before race start - (L-R) Terry, Patrick, Terence, Osbert, Kenny & Jacky. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Shortly before gun-off, Janet got on the start line platform and passed the honour of commencing the race to her mum. As the air horn blasted into the air, the runners launched off into a steady procession, heading off into this great adventure with excitement.

  

The Pain Will Come (0.001km – 21km)

It wasn’t long before we reached the first flight of stairs, which briefly inclined to the entry of MacLehose Trail at the Pak Tam Chung region. The initial 6k felt relaxing and had none of the dreadful elevations I had been warned of. There wasn’t much of roll on the trail surface as I took in the glimpse of the grassy hills scenery.

Exiting the trail portion, we crossed over a causeway next to the High Island Reservoir and were lead to a winding road which steadily rose for a good 900m or so. It represents the first challenge of the day for me. I was maintaining a slow running pace and deciding whether I should switch to walking uphill for energy conservation. The weather was also getting warmer, just the time to shed off my windproof jacket and headwear.

High Island Reservoir (top) and the road that leads past it (above). Photos courtesy of Terry Tan.

Striding over yet another causeway which overlooked the East Dam near the South China Sea, we arrived at the support point where I took a quick trip to a porta. I nearly missed the check-in gantry and was concerned about a missed recording.

A dam overlooking the sea. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

The concern pretty much gave way to a major threat ahead. At about 13.6km, we came head-on with the tedious task of climbing the countless steps along Sai Wan Shan. The feat represented a small step (the peak stands at 314 metres) ahead but it sure expended a grave load of energy out of me. It’s still 14km into the race and there are about seven key peaks which appear to rise in elevation as the race progressed.

Shortly after departing the first support point near the East Dam (top). Running one of the adventurous local trails at the Sai Kung Peninsular (above). Photos courtesy of Terry Tan.

By the time, I reached Checkpoint 1 at Ham Tin, I felt that I had just ran 30km of a typical road marathon. The expansive beaches there are attractive… the soft sand is anything but friendly on my feet and I fell before crossing the plank ‘bridge’ to the checkpoint.

A beach before Checkpoint 1 at Ham Tin (top). Running on the soft sand (without falling) at times proved to be a personal challenge (above, author on extreme right front of photo). Photos courtesy of Terry Tan and Vibram Hong Kong 100 2013.

As I filled up my hydration vest, I became aware of a persistent irritation somewhere in my lungs. The sensation tickled at my wind pipe, affecting my breathing as I departed from the Ham Tin checkpoint. Was it the chilly, dry air my lungs are trying to adapt to? Drinking up did little to ease the feeling and it became a source of my frustration for a good part of the afternoon.

Trouble In Paradise (21km – 28km)

The HK100 had a pleasing visual tour of mountains, beaches, oceanfront and forest, and on the man-made aspect, we get to travel through small villages and satellite townships, each offering a glimpse into the contented lives of those inhabit there. Pity the admiration for new environments, though, I was struggling with going forward over undulating grounds and a fluctuating energy capacity.

Despite the smile, I was really suffering for most of the HK100's day half. Not smiling much (above). Photos courtesy of Allen Ng & Oscar Yeung.

Somewhere around 24km, I bumped into my friends, Osbert and Patrick, the latter who was slowing down due to some pain in his leg. As we were managing our personal woes, Pat and Osbert encouraged each other to move on before one of them let out a “HOODIE!!!” yell. The ‘hoodie’ in question is the official cotton apparel which is presented to every proud finishers of the race. The hoody is the Holy Grail of our efforts and the acknowledgement of that evoked similar responses among us.

Soon, Patrick and Osbert went ahead of me while I was still trying to muster some strength to run a little faster. It felt like my weakest performance at that point and the more I pushed, the slower I got. 

Eventually, I ended up walking as other runners whizzed past me.

Feeling dismayed, I straggled to the trail side and sat down, wanting to call it a day because I didn’t think I was in top form to run the race that day. DNF is almost a very certain outcome for my first overseas event.

Instead, the thought that I was also doing this race for a charitable cause (Make-A-Wish Foundation, to be precise) was enough for me to resist the idea. I stood up and forced myself on.

Miraculously, by a sheer might of will power, I managed to reach Checkpoint 2 at Wong Shek. That was still 28km into the race but at least, some on-going progress had already been made.

Take It Slow And Enjoy (28km-36km)

Once it became apparent that my attempt on a silver timing (completing the race under 20 hours) wasn’t going to be possible, I decided to switch to survivor mode, that is, to do whatever I can possible to outlast the distance, never mind about attaining personal best. 

By the time, I hit the next trailhead after a short moment on the coastal road along the Mirs Bay, I knew I had to be smart with my movements, being extraneously careful with the rocky grounds there and keeping a constant pace that my available strength allowed, even if it was a very slow jog.

Traversing through an old suburban settlement, I came upon a dirt path that overlooks the majestic blues of the Mirs Bays, an expanse of waters which connects directly to the South China Sea. It’s nearly 1pm by then and the afternoon weather was kindly warm with a slight chill and not quite humid. The grounds were strewn with protruding rocks and plant roots and other than suffering another tumble, the run went smoothly for much of this section. I was operating on a more humane speed, which allows a fair amount of physical energy to return.

I also met local hikers along the way, most of whom courteously allowed us to pass. Some cheered me on in Cantonese and Mandarin. The day was getting better.

Approaching a narrow neck of a peninsular section, the race route suddenly breaks off to the left, marking the start of the north-to-south-western journey towards the rear of Kowloon. About two kilometres later, I arrived at the coastal village of Hoi Ha, much to the delightful fanfare of volunteers from Blind Sports Hong Kong. This time, I was a little more patient with my stay at Checkpoint 3 (36km). Observing my surroundings, this had to be one of the more cheery checkpoints since I began the run at 8am. I caught sight of a few Singaporean runners and was glad that I wasn’t the only one, from my country, here.

Encouragement sign shortly before the Checkpoint 3 of Hoi Ha. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

The respite lasted for five minutes and it was off onto the road again.

Beauty And The Bonk (36km – 45km)

The HK100 adventure did had its funny moments and mine came after I exited Hoi Ha. Midway up a gentle road slope, runners bumped into the residents of the trail….. apes. These fine creatures doesn’t seem to pose any form of danger but a runner, ahead of me, is unfortunate enough to attract attention as he’s holding in one of his hands, a piece of banana. Naturally, an ape did what it knows best and one starts to get very jumpy around the runner until he was forced to consume the banana.

This runner is harassed by a ape for holding a banana in his hand. The author is right at the back. Photo courtesy of unknown.

After that ‘monkey business’, things stayed relatively quiet on a light-hearted spell of the afternoon. I had just entered a nature park where the route streamed on a concrete walk path and passed by a few pristine bungalows. From there, it’s back to the rugged terrains again, a brief chat with another compatriot on the move, and more scenic views of green hills and countryside beauty. 

The local countryside. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

At around the marathon mark of the race, along the coastal stretch facing Tolo Harbour, I reflected on my performance for the past several minutes as runners overtook me, one by one on a five to ten minutes interval. Concerned, I wondered if I was moving at a consistent pace or declining in speed and energy. While it wasn’t as terrible as the earlier parts of the day, I could muster little physical might to go at a faster pace.

Upon reaching Checkpoint 4 located within the village of Yung Shue O, the lung irritation, that had bothered me in the morning, came back with a vengeance, causing me to cough vigorously. 

At that moment, my mood suffered and it wasn’t long the dreaded DNF thoughts followed along.

“Well, maybe I can report that I’m unwell….. and end this event now and go back…”, I thought wearily as I saw a St John’s Ambulance medic post at a corner of the checkpoint.

Hut of complete relief: Checkpoint 4 at Yung Shue O. I nearly decided to DNF at this point of the race. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

I didn’t go to the medic post eventually but I had trouble filling up the hydration bladder as I spilled isotonic liquid over my hydration vest.

Taking just a banana, I dragged myself for the distance ahead, feeling incapacitated by my current weakness.

Out Comes The Walking Sticks! (45km – 52km)

Things did not improve much after the 45km mark. Nature wielded its unforgiving characteristics in forms of hills with sadistic grades of elevations. The slopes preceding the peak of Kai Kung Shan were anything but inviting. My already battered frame was drained out by the punishment and I had to sit down for rest in the middle of a climb.

With my mental willpower inching closer to a complete collapse, I drew out a pair of foldable Black Diamond trekking poles from my hydration vest. As I stabbed the ground with the sticks, I was able to pull myself along the slope at an easier effort, utilizing on an effective combination of arm power and support, instead of solely relying on my legs and mid-core muscle. Each step was done with an increase in precision and my feet didn’t roll or slip off the ground as much especially during downhill runs.

The change in weather conditions brought down temperatures at chillier levels. It’s a good thing that I had already put on my jacket and headwear before departing Checkpoint 4. Treading along fluctuating hill ranges, I summited at Kai Kung Shan’s peak and was soon moving on a long downslope which descend its way into Checkpoint 5 at Kei Ling Ha.

High Up: Somewhere around Kai Kung Shan peak. Photo courtesy of Terry Sze.

About 1 to 2km from Checkpoint 5, Janelle, a new friend of mine, caught up from behind as she scurried down the trail stair effortlessly. I was impressed by the way she bounded from one step to another without losing balance or hesitating her movements to avoid tripping.

Not long after, I reached the Kei Ling Ha checkpoint where participants’ drop bags were being kept. The place was under the care of a Boy Scouts group and I managed to retrieve my backpack from a keeping area.

I took very few items from my pack. In fact, the only things I stashed into my hydration vest were a couple of spare batteries. It was about 5.30pm in the early evening but the local sky was already losing light. Very soon, darkness will follow and one would not want to be caught without a functioning headlamp. I unwrapped mine from a zip-lock bag and banded it on my forehead.

Chomping on bread buns for 'dinner', I leaved Checkpoint 5 and walked across Sai Sha Road for the next half of the race…..

Upon leaving Checkpoint 5 at Kei Ling Ha, darkness began to fall. A long night awaited me. Photo courtesy of unknown.

Time To Party (52km – 65km)

Close to 10 hours of toiling on the trails later, my energy core was stabilizing at an adequate amount of power, thus boosting movement efficiency. I had learned to be more patient with the progress, running when I’m on easy grounds, and walking on inclining slopes.

Less than half an hour later after departure from the Kei Ling Ha checkpoint, I flicked on my 90 lumens headlamp as darkness began to cover the surroundings.

The next one hour or so was spent negotiating what looked like an endless flights of stairs. Along these hazardous paths, I would occasionally bumped into runners sitting at the steps for a breather.

No doubt, stair climbing had proven to the most demanding aspects of the HK100 though I had since found a way to adapt to the challenge.

Nearing the peak of Ma On Shan, something in the night sky caught my attention. It turned out to be a helicopter that was casting its searchlights on the hills. I wondered what it was looking for.

 “Maybe an escaped criminal”, I thought.

Later, I encountered a few guys dressed in baggy, dirty overalls.

Firemen.

Are they here to provide emergency support for the event? Perhaps the trail was hazardous at these parts to warrant for their services. It later came to my knowledge, that there was a bush fire that night, surprisingly, given the cold weather conditions. HK100 for 2013 was incidentally warmer than last year, according to some of my friends.

However, the highlight of the evening occurred as I traversed the ridge leading to the highest point of Ma On Shan route (we did not scale the peak). There, on the edge of the trail, as we ran under the dusky red sky, the urban settlements of Sai Kung on the south-east side of the hill, and Sha Ti on the west, glowed on the land beneath.

The awesome sight revitalized my mood.

As I cleared over the high point, I found myself nimbly racing down a switchback of steps, overtaking a few runners as I went. Electrified by what feels like a runner’s high of sorts, I was travelling at a slightly faster speed especially after reaching more levelled surfaces.

The refreshing sense of physical and mental state was just what I need to get over the prolonged lassitude of the race.

About 107 minutes later, I reached the next checkpoint.

Good People, Good Night (65km – 83km)

Volunteers at the HK100 are a very helpful bunch with an abundance of initiative but the Boy Scouts at Checkpoint 6, Gilwell Camp (65km) were perhaps the ones who displayed exceptional hospitality to runners.

I had no trouble getting one of them to fill my water bottle, which contained energy powder, while I personally tended to the filling of the hydration bladder. Even when all these were done, they continued to inquire of our needs, just to ensure we don’t leave the checkpoint without food and other replenishments.

The departure from Checkpoint 6 leaded over the peak of Tate’s Cairn and temporarily exited the trail onto a quiet stretch of road where the skyline of Kowloon lay up close on the south side of my view.

Lion Rock Country Park marked the next entry back into the trails and lead to the top of Beacon Hill several exhausting mountain steps later. At 457 metres lies Checkpoint 7, where runners received the same enthusiastic support of the ever cheery Boy Scouts, and I was quickly attended by three approaching helpers. I did a battery change for my headlamp as the light was dying slowly.

Located a short distance away from a dome-shaped radar station, the checkpoint included a nice fire place for runners to seek relief from the cold. As I didn’t see a personal need to enjoy such luxuries (also due to the fear of staying too long), I quickly settled the replenishments and took a flight of steps down for the remaining 27km of the race.

The rest of journey eventually quieten down as I saw fewer runners along the way. Some occasions, I would found myself at ‘No Man’s Zone’, the length of space at the front and back of me where I was unable to sight any runners at a perceivable distance. I had been used to such loneliness since nightfall even when the route had took me under the dark canopies of forest, on pathways that wind by tombs and altars, and past some desolated wartime trenches.

I bumped into company along the way just before entering another trail park, located at around 2.2km from Checkpoint 8 at the Shing Mun Dam. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, I confided in a Hong Konger that there are good chances to we might be able to finish the race under 20 hours and thus receive our sliver trophies. The local runner was doubtful.

“…..but there’s Tai Mo Shan (the final and highest peak in the HK100) just before the finish and that’s a high mountain”, he cautioned.

“I can give it a shot”, I replied with optimistic naivety.

If I will to push it a little harder, how can it not be possible?

The Story Of Two Peaks (83km – 90km)

 

Passing through the Shing Mun Dam as I leaved Checkpoint 8 (83km), I embarked on the final 17km of the race which included the dreadful task of scaling the remaining high peaks.

Negotiating yet another flight of trail steps, I gazed at the stream of headlights ghosting up the slopes of a pointy, dark landform. That’s Needle Hill (hence the name), the first of the last three peaks. The climb was a muscle-burning stair walk, even though, at 532 metres, Needle Hill isn’t as high as some of the peaks I had already scaled. On the other side, movements along the perilous declines of the tightly spaced steps delivered devastating shocks on my knee joints and felt like an endless trip into the bowels of the abyss. An accidental stumble could mean instant death.

When I’m done, Grassy Hill was the next one ahead, and the climb on this 647 metres mountain (second highest peak of the entire course) was a very slow 2.8km walk on a less steep gradient. At this point, running up was entirely out of question but that only prolonged the boredom on this slope. Alone for most times, the trek took a meandering course along a ridge line, each turn deceiving me into believing that I’m near the peak.

I came across an unconscious runner who was lying on the side of the trail.

“Are you OK”, I asked as I approached him with glaring headlight.

“It’s all right! I’m OK”, the Mainland Chinese man candidly assured me as he woke up.

Then he went back to sleep again.

The cold wind was beginning to pick up. I took a peek back at Needle Hill in a distance. There were more headlights caressing over the hill summit.

Once I crested over the summit of Grassy Hill, I was lead to a false sense of accomplishment that I did conquered Tai Mo Shan (blame it on the darkness, illusion of distance and overwhelming fatigue).

Close to 200 metres to the next checkpoint, I saw bright glow of light bulbs and what resembled a tentage structure. Audible human voices were also heard. Excited, I sprinted down the slope, thinking that I was approaching the finish line with the usual chorus of cheering volunteers.

I could not have been any more disappointed when I finally reached the area. The signboard of Checkpoint 9 (Lead Mine Pass) glared right at me. A further slap to the face, it also listed in bold red letters, “Finish!! – 10km”.

My heart sank at the awful delusion I had allowed myself into. There and then, I realized that a sub 20 hours timing was already a missed opportunity even before I knew it.

For standing in between me and the original goal was the highest mountain in Hong Kong.

Tai Mo Shan (90km – 100km / Finish)

Gathering what’s left of motivation, I quickly got started on the last 10km of my pilgrimage to complete my first overseas race. While the distance is short, the level of patience required for this leg is tremendous.

At 957 metres, Tai Mo Shan represents the pinnacle of what the HK100 stands for. The distance between the base and the peak is 4.8km of almost continual upslope. The sole consolation of the daunting climb is lesser hill steps but that did little to negate the challenge.

The trail path was littered with mountain rocks and boulders and was much wider in comparison to other sections of the MacLehose Trail. Negotiation around this area is tricky, given the low night visibility which was worsen by the heavy mist on the top.

A hazardous situation occurred as I attempted to find my footing down a minor slope, holding onto the ground and rocks to prevent slipping. I could probably have veered closer to the mountain edge if not for the headlights of other runners that illuminated the right trail path.

The approach to Tai Mo Shan’s peak was one of the most memorable highlights in the race. The wind was at its most aggressive on this part and swiped with such great force that I kept a hold on my race bib, afraid that it might tore off from my waist tag. Temperatures had dropped to about six degrees Celsius and visibility declined to 25 metres or lower due to the thick mist.

Instead of feeling miserable, I discovered some enjoyment under these testing conditions. A combination of the forbidding outdoors and harsh weather had created the perfect atmosphere to satisfy my primal urge for adventure. It was a cautious and slow progress through the fog until the orange glow of the Hong Kong Observatory weather facility penetrated the darkness.

At last, I had reached the final peak of the race.

The remaining 4.6km towards the finish point near Tai Mo Shan Country Park was a rollercoaster charge on the downslope of Tai Mo Shan Road. I had my reasons; other the short distance, I felt an egoistic need to overtake as many runners as possible. The other motivations were more practical: escaping from the freezing clouds on the peak and a headlamp that was slowly dimming out of battery power.

A series of switchbacks shakes up the route of Tai Mo Shan Road which is absence of operating lamp posts. Racing against a possible scenario of total darkness, I thundered at my hardest pace, virtually ignoring the pain and damage on my knees.

It was all mind over body from here. Hours ago, I could not imagine about finishing the race when I was seriously in doubt about my chances. But now, there’s no denying the outcome.

Four minutes before 5am, I sprinted past the finish line in a total gun time of 20 hours 56 minutes.

 

Top: The finish line near Tai Mo Shan Country Park. | Middle: Racers received their trophies / medals, certificates and 'hoodies' at these tentages. | Above: The author upon completing the race. Photos courtesy of Terry Tan.

Aftermath

I guess it is safe to conclude that things actually turned up better than expected. I had ran fast enough to receive a bronze trophy (award for sub-24 hours finishers), a ready-on-the-spot event certificate and the highly prized ‘hoodie’. Most of the guys I had travelled with to Pak Tam Chung had also done well enough for their hard-earned bronzes.

The weather remained chilly and the long-repressed drowsiness had overwhelmed me into a nap as I waited for other friends to reach end-point.

Indeed, the Hong Kong 100 was the toughest trail ultra I ever attempted.

More importantly, I had discovered the joys of treading the local trails and it won’t be long before I anticipate for the next trail race in this country.

Fruits of my efforts. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.