Mountains & Buffalos (051013, Sat, Vietnam Mountain Marathon 2013 / 70km Category, Sapa, Lao Cai, Vietnam)

The highs from completing the Craze Ultra 100 Miles was still lingering a little while, and about two weeks of near-total rest since that race inflicted me with a considerable loss of energy and maybe even a near injury.

Soon, I would find myself in Hanoi, Vietnam, and met up with fellow ultra runners, Adrian, Fred, Chris, Kee Seng and Chin KK at the Mango Steak Restaurant, next to the Hanoi Railway Station. It was there that participants of the inaugural Vietnam Mountain Marathon collected train tickets for an overnight 200km+ journey towards Lao Cai Province in mountainous northwest Vietnam.

Countless of sleepy train and mini-bus rides later, we arrived at the picturesque Topas Ecolodge, a lodging in the frontier town of Sapa. The establishment is a cluster of bungalows which are set on two hills and before the looming grandeur of the Hoàng Liên Son mountain range.

         (L > R): Kee Seng, Chris, Terry, Adrian, Chin KK & Fred,  Mango Steak Restaurant, Hanoi, Vietnam. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Mountain range near Topas Ecolodge.
Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Not long, we were led to the cafeteria building where we heard a welcome speech by the lodge's charismatic Danish director, Asger Køppen, got some heads-up during the race briefing, and were serenaded by a young girls choir managed by the Sapa O'Chau social enterprise.

Generally, the mood was very light among runners as if this was a leisure distance event (and even though it was a tough mountain run with its longest category at close to 70km with 3000m D+).

Asger Køppen, the lodge and race director, addresses the racers. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Young girls' choir managed by Sapa O'Chau.
Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Racers hailed from various countries but an obvious sight was a significant number of Caucasians who seemed to be of European descent. Lest we forget that the best skyrunners and ultra trailblazers are found in that region.

And so humbled did I felt on the morning of the race as we, the participants for the 70km ultra category, readied ourselves outside the reception building where the start line was. Intense light beams from the runners' headlight pierced the predawn darkness as racers adjusted gears and apparels, and engaged in casual chit-chats. The Europeans, as usual, embodied an aura of rugged individualism that only deepened the sense that I was in the midst of elites.

70km category runners at race start. The bus in the background was carrying participants from a hotel.  Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

By around 5am, we launched off onto the mountain road and within a minute, the faster runners, which seemed to be about 90% of the field, vanished swiftly from my sight. 

So, all right, I'm the slower guy. Is there anybody else who's going to catch up with me any moment now? 

Several minutes passed and I was left with a less optimistic impression of being the last man tailing.

By about 5km+, I was running alongside with Adrian and upon drawing off onto the actual trail path, I saw Jeri Chua at the road exit, armed with a Canon 5D DSLR. Jeri, who had a pivotal role in organising the race, decided to serve as event photographer since her injury kept her from competing. Although just catching up with runners and lugging with her a 800g+ camera was an epic feat by itself.

The author entering the first trail section. Photo courtesy of Jeri Chua.

For the next 3km+, Adrian and I hasted over bumpy hill slopes and small water streams, with him briefly behind me. It was still dark midway when I decide to take a sip from from my hydration vest and was surprised that water did not ooze out of the drinking tube's nozzle.

Realising that that the tube was disconnected from the reservoir pack in my vest, I frantically tried to secure the tube while running awkwardly on uneven grounds. I was not going to stop too soon in this early part of the race, especially when someone was catching up with me, but fortunately, the glitch was quickly fixed. Adrian must have been wondering why I was fidgeting with the back of my vest.

However, he managed to overtake me before we reached the riverside. In turn, I was ahead of him on two instances, which was strange as he was a much faster runner than me. It occurred that he had dashed off in the wrong direction twice. In fact, the same thing happened for some front packers à la the blind-leading-the-blind as they shadowed each other.    

On the other hand, I had virtually avoided all incorrect diversions, keeping a sharp eye for route markers in the form of reflective sticks and bands.

But my eyes weren't sharp enough as I ran alongside the river; while visibility had picked up by dawn, I failed to notice a crevice by the trail side and partially slipped through it. A good thing I managed to soldier on without crippling injuries... God knows, it may well be a tumble into the river.   
   
With that minor episode behind, the rustic beauty of the northwest Vietnamese countryside unfolded. Surrounded by masses of forest mountains, I found myself passing through villages of wooden houses and paddy fields, bumping into the quiet residents of the area.

The beauty of northwest Vietnam. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan

The people who inhabits Sapa hail from eight ethnic minority groups, including the H'mongs, Kinhs and Daos. The latter is well-known for the Red Dao women who are easily recognisable by their unique red turbans and readily greet strangers to the land with a smile.

Red Dao women. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan

They also turned up to be persistent people.

The day before the race, we visited villages near Topas Ecolodge and were followed by a band of Red Daos. More than being available for a friendly conversation, the ladies were persuading us to buy their handicrafts, a difficult situation to loose yourself from. Once you allow a Red Dao to tie a 'friendship' band around your wrist, you are marked for the rest of your time in Sapa to complete a transaction.

Apart from the local people of the countryside, buffaloes also roamed along the dirt paths, in their wake, leaving trails of dungs, the size of landmines. These are actually more peaceful creatures compared to the hostile monkeys of the Hong Kong trails.

At around 22km, I reached checkpoint 2 at Cat Cat Village and managed to see some runners ahead of me.

Having spend several minutes by myself, VMM must have been the loneliest ultra I ever attended. With prolonged solitary periods, it was hard to tell if there's anyone behind you but then again, it might just be good for the experience; there was less race pressure and afforded more opportunities for introspection.

From checkpoint 2, I took a left turn and advanced along a road which gradually rose to a trail entrance at Ban Xin Chai. There, I was greeted with the sight of terraced rice fields at the hill slopes before venturing another 6km to come upon the highest point of the course.

Paddy fields, both flat land and terraced cultivations. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan

Shorty, I ran past a landfill,  perhaps the only feature of the event that marred the purity of its environment. There was a potent stench in the air and the area looked as if rubbish were not cleared in time to reduce a buildup.

Landfill. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Soon, I entered another forest trail section, this one being a descending path for close to 3km. The way down was a killer as the ground was made up of rocks so moist and slippery that even the lightest step could caused falling. I think I had fell more times there than the number of tumbles I suffered for the whole Hong Kong 100 route in January.

Following 31 laborious minutes, I finally completed that section and began to transverse the mountainside rising above a valley. There, I yanked out my trekking poles but shortly decided to slide it back into my vest after finding it more frustrating to navigate the ground with them.

Valley. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.

Between 35km and 39km, while circumventing the mountaintop near Ta Phin, I encountered a few mud pits, soft enough for the whole foot to sink into. Pulling out without leaving the shoe in the sludge was the tricky part; one unfortunate runner lost his shoe as a result, although I wondered if the mire condition was so severe that removal was impossible.

At seven hours and 40+ minutes since race start, I survived to checkpoint 4 which was located at yet another village. In addition to the bananas and water provided, there were also various soft drinks which, no, were not part of the official nutrition support but had to be bought from kid vendors.

The next 6km was a large valley where temperatures were much warmer compared to other parts of the race. Throughout, the climatic conditions had been rather tolerable even during the early morning at the start line. With the lowest at about 25 degrees Cecilius, there was hardly any need for base layers, fleece and windproof jackets.

As I edged towards the main road which snaked between north and south within the Sapa region, I came by an injured runner who sat down resting, with his hydration vest and supplies laid on the ground. He is all right, he said, but decided to call it a day from here. Relieved that he would be able to take care of himself, I continued on to the next checkpoint, determined to finish the race at all cost.

Checkpoint 5 commenced the next big climb over the second highest section of the race. Under the rather forgiving heat of the sun, the trudge was a uphill struggle interspersed with brief slow runs but made more bearable with the sight of the scenic surroundings, especially the charming wooden houses located along the narrow track.

Minutes after I conquered over the 'peak' of the section,  a familiar person caught up with me; it was (but no, it can't be) Fred! He suffered a nagging injury to one of his foot and was in fact slowed down at the start of race. As the faster man,  he didn't overtook me until at this, around 54km of our progress.

Soon, we reached checkpoint 6 at 55km but before I could move on, an uncomfortable sensation in my lungs caused me to cough vigorously. It was the same thing that struck me during the Hong Kong 100 race this year and I assumed the dry and cold mountain climate of Sapa might have a part in this.

Seven kilometers to checkpoint 7, my unbroken streak of not missing a route marker and taking a wrong direction nearly went undone. Fred, who was ahead of me, strayed off course after missing a turn, then came back just in time when I was about to commit the same error. We found out that village children had been seen playing around with the reflective bands that were used to mark the race route, either stealing those away or leaving them on the ground. With the help of a local resident, we were once more on course.

At checkpoint 7, a free bottle of Coke was, thankfully, available to reinvigorate my spirits and I met Køppen who was helping out there. With less than 10km till the finish at Topas Ecolodge, Fred sped off first and was able to overtake another runner on the way.

After rushing down the final down-slope of the race, I mustered remaining energies for a grueling homeward charge, with heavy-like-lead legs sometimes impeding movements to a walk. The undulating road ahead felt like a endless trek until, at last, the lodge came into sight.

Finally, as I neared the reception building, I had one more worry in mind; will the Red Dao lady, who tried to sell me her handicrafts yesterday, badger me at the pathway to the finish line? A few of them were already by the roadside so I tilted my open-top cap down, with the visor partially covering my eyes.

With few more steps, I sprinted until the finish line appeared in a distance, under the evening sun.

Few more steps and the cheers of race volunteers could be heard.

Few more steps and I made it through in 12 hours, 57 minutes and 54 seconds, as Chris welcomed me after achieving a male's podium spot in third place hours ago.

Author at finish line. Photo courtesy of Jeri Chua.

That evening, the rest of us finishers waited out in the chilly night as runners slowly trickled across the finish line. It's a good thing that dinner was served in the nearby cafeteria while a campfire was also set up outside for others to gather and share their race stories.

Personally, it was a comfortable time for me to unwind after an active season during August to October 2013 in which I ran a series of ultras including a fat-ass event around Bukit Timah Hill, Bedok Reservoir Ultra and Craze 100 Miles. 

Vietnam Mountain Marathon, the concluding effort of my 'Grand Slam' feat, was my last ultra of that year.

It would be another several more months before my next major: 2014's Ultra Trail Mount Fuji. 

Asger Køppen celebrated a successful race. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan.