%2B180.JPG) |
| Hiking up towards summit of Lantau Peak (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Friday's dinner with the Swees was a less
chatty session by the beach of sleepy town, Mui Wo, on Lantau Island, Hong
Kong.
Along with Ben and his wife, Yee Hua, I was
in the company of six other runners. We were generally reserved, perhaps in anticipation of the
event about to happen in a few hours time.
At least, I can say that for myself.
At 11.30pm, the TransLantau 100km will
begin. It is a race renowned for its brutality that could make Vibram HK100 its
gentler sister in the further northwest of the SAR.
Having settled the carbo-loading, I walked
to the start-line at the Silvermine Bay Beach and found a nearby spot in a
recreational section of benches and tables. I got into settling my equipments
and race vest until Christopher popped by to join in the prep. We had to make
sure that all things required for the event are there, especially batteries for
our headlights.
"We need at least nine per
night", I warned. It was a lesson learned while racing in Hong Kong two
years back. Due to cold weather conditions, batteries drain out faster and I
depleted close to six pieces before dawn during the VHK100.
In addition, TL100 does not have a
designated checkpoint for drop bags storage. In other words, you are expected
to bear the burden of every necessities all the way through.
Just then, another familiar face appeared:
Reuben Cheang, an ultra-runner I had known back in my first year of running and
was popular in the circle for his numerous ultra exploits including completing
the 217km Badwater race.
"So you will be running
tonight?", I asked.
"Nope. I'm volunteering."
"Volunteering?"
"I will be the sweeper runner at the
back."
That's comforting to know. Perhaps, when my
last ounce of energy burns off, I will need his help to get off the trails. The
last time that I needed evacuation during a race was at last year's Ultra Trail
Mount Fuji (UTMF) over a potential affliction with hypothermia. The race
officials managed to send me back to my lodging by a 4WD.
It's coming close to a year since that race
in 2014. Needless to say, a disappointing year with two DNFs and no official
finishes for the 100km/+ ultras. Hopefully, tonight will mark an end to a
prolonged drought of victories.
Hopefully.
______________________________
 | |||||||||||
| Before race start. (L-R): Kim Lai (extreme left), Kenny (fifth from left) and author (extreme right). Photo courtesy of Kenny Lim. |
As time drew near, the start pen filled up
with runners in race apparels and weather-proof jackets of various hues, armed
with headlights and hiking poles. A flying camera drone whizzed over, eliciting
some enthusiastic reactions from participants. Giving the race its blessings, a
lion dance troupe marched into the front, that before a burst of confetti
gunned off the event.
Exiting the beach, the speedy procession of
racers u-turned and streamed through the quiet neighborhood suburb. Around 1km
later, we were welcomed by our first hill and greeted by Chinese tombstones by
the trail side.
 |
| Pre-race wait at TransLantau 100 race site, Lantau, Hong Kong. Photos courtesy of Terry Tan. |
The early part of ascent was easy, with the
usual human choke-up along the narrow trail path. Most of us could only keep to
fast walks, while some who were impatient enough to spring forward on less
seasoned grounds to overtake.
As the stretch of runners slowly thinned
out, some serenity settled in. The near-silence was abruptly broken by a female
racer chatting lively in Cantonese with other runners.
It lasted for about 20 minutes or so.
"She just keeps talking and talking
and talking", I said to Sanmuga who was just at my front.
After the peak of Lo Fu Tau, the first major descent was a quick manoeuvre
on rockier surfaces, at some point, encountering a technical section where a rope had been installed to aid runners in clambering the
gnarly down-slope.
Along the way, Sanumuga tripped and slammed
into tall grasses, no injuries fortunately. Otherwise, we were fairly fresh upon reaching the first checkpoint at Pak Mong (12km) where I masticated
a piece of banana.
Sunset Peak awaited next and in the form of
a ferocious 8km+ mount, from a level of about 32m to the highest point at 854m.
Initially faring comfortably at a brisk pace, the debilitating effects of the
climb hit me midway and my head zoned to and fro of drowsiness. I stopped a few times for rest before sitting down
for a slightly longer break. Even before 20km, I was already enervated heavily by from the exhausting hike.
Adding to my woes was an unkind weather with the
aggravating cold. A fog had by then covered the summit vicinity, rendering
visibility to a hazardous low. As I settled down for yet another breather, a
runner passed by, muttering what sounded like a pessimistic suggestion to me to
head back towards the last aid station.
%2B199.JPG) |
| Sunset Peak (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Dreadfully low on
blood sugar and languid, I weaved off onto a trail path
near Sunset Peak and soon approached a split in two directions. Worryingly enough, there were no
indicators, the absence of reflective bands to mark the route.
I gambled on it and choose the right turn.
After a few minutes of running, I realised that it was a wrong diversion and
hastened back to where I first started.
I am confused now. Where the hell am I?
Alone in the chilly dark with just the beam
of my headlight blazing, I pulled out my iPhone 6 from my race vest
and hoped to find my answers through a GPS-reliant city map app and a PDF copy
of the race route issued by the race organisers. Even those were not helping
much. The app seemed off-tune to its actual location, and the map, with a
yellow line snaking out the course on the photograph of a Lantau Island map
with fold creases, was hardly interpretable on a 4.7 inch screen.
I did the next rational thing by retracing
my steps towards Checkpoint 1, with the surety I might bump into a back-end
runner along the way. It happened but the other guy was just about as lost
after I expressed my doubts over the route taken (which was the left turn of
the split).
Another few more minutes of retracing and
we found that we had missed the left turn of an even earlier split. Our obscure surroundings had threw us off course and I wondered how many had
erroneously wandered away, over the mountain.
We were soon darting down slopes and steps,
passing by other racers which was a welcome sight. Checkpoint 2 at Pak Kung Au
appeared 2km later and a table of edible supplies awaited. Tremendously
relieved, I wolfed down Nutella bread spreads and electrolyte liquid like a
deprived vampire.
 |
| Aid station at Pak Kung Au, Checkpoint 2 (21km). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Still, about twenty minutes since I leaved
Checkpoint 2, I continued to struggle with back-to-back semi-knockout effects
from the lack of sleep. Surrendering to my body's plead for mercy, I sat
down by the trail side and buried my head in enclosed arms. I could imagine the pitiful sight it was as other runners zipped past,
some perhaps concerned that I had gone
unconscious.
The nap lasted to about five minutes. The
next time I got up, it felt different. It wasn't obvious initially
but after a while, I was able to run steadier and slightly more awake.
By about 24.70km and six hours 36 minutes
later, dawn was breaking as I descended another flight of steps,
a little more revived than before.
At the end of the steps, 3km+ of flat
concrete pavement lies ahead, a good tone-down after hours of
climbing. As remnants of darkness slowly dimmed into
the emerging morning, my mood perked with the optimism of pulling through this
race. From this section, I applied a run-walk technique
in which I ran for as much as my energy permitted before transiting to walk. I used certain objects in my vicinity as 'cut-offs', such a lamp
post, a tree and a gap across the ground.
The tactic worked well.
I began to recover my lead as I gradually overtook runners one by one, at least those in
the back to mid packs.
Upon pushing through the steep entry of
Shek Pik Country Trail, I diverted to the north and embarked on a winding 5km,
with a moderate D+ progress. On the edge of the trail, the scenery on the west
opened up, graced with the beauty of mountainous terrains and verdant expanse of trees as well as Shek Pik Reservoir at the bottom. Inching towards
413m in altitude, my modest fear of heights kicked in and I was unable to
hold my admiration of the landscape longer than I would want to.
%2B168.JPG) |
| Lantau's landscape (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
The arrival at Checkpoint 3 (33km, Ngong
Ping) was 8:03am, Saturday, with a moody weather and wispy drizzle. I caught up with Christopher
and Alan in the midst of their break, the latter about to leave the aid station.
 |
| Christopher taking a break at Checkpoint 3 (Ngong Ping). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
 |
| Checkpoint 3 at Ngong Ping (33km). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
For now, the pace was getting some pick-up
with the downhill on the road, albeit some minor ups in between. It was one of
the easiest sections so far before entering Lantau Trail Section 5.
There, I bumped into Alan once more as well
as Teck Siong and Paulina taking a break along the slope.
Paulina did not look quite well but, probably, so was I, according to Alan.
"Your face look pale", he
observed.
Though tired and all, I was generally well and functioning.
Still, the
peculiarity of my current energetic state never escape me.
In the earlier wee hours of
Saturday, I fought up towards Sunset Peak as morale bled off a
battered body and mind, and moments when it seemed DNF was breathing closer
with each step.
Since then, that moment of weakness had faded off.
In retrospect, I don't think I was ever
mentally enthusiastic about my chances even before my flight from Changi. The weeks
before hardly saw an amount of training reasonably quantifiable for
ultras. More than a year had passed before LT100 when I last endured over more
than 10 to 20 hours in a 100km/+ race and that event, Craze Ultra 100 Miles,
ripped a huge chunk out of me. Could I possibly survive this monster given that
my last two DNFs, in Ultra Trail Mount Fuji and Peak-To-Peak, were not quite
distant memories?
Venturing further after cresting yet
another hill hump, the familiar mist of the Lantauian mountains once more
manifested its ghostly grandeur. And then the answer, to my insistence on doing
this crazy race materlialised before my eyes: it was,
again, a mountain ridge under an intense cloud of water droplets, but this one
appeared more alluring than some of the previous few and seemed to probe the
intents of my heart.
Why I am here?
Does it matter?
This is where I want and meant to be, not a
better time than now, and nowhere else but here. In this purgatory of a treacherous
heaven, would it be sacrilegious to suggest
a divine purpose in these mountains?
Opening up my arms, I embraced the moment,
knowing well enough that being here was the most important thing.
For now.
From then on, the run towards Checkpoint 4
at Kau Ling Chung was invigorated with purposefulness and confidence as I
charged by trail scarps and across switchbacks. With each dynamic swing of the
legs, shreds of my everyday identity was cast into the winds. Instead of Terry
The Almost Underpaid Office Worker, I was, in this duration, Ted, Trail Fighter
Rouge.
At 10:16am and 44km at Lantau Trail Section
8, the volunteers at Checkpoint 4 welcomed my arrival and had the sensory tag
on my wrist scanned with a smartphone.
It is the 4G way of registering
runners at various stations in the race.
______________________________
The exit off Section 8 was rather easy:
less than a kilometer of descent, followed by a right turn towards Section 7. Afterwards, it would be a long hike over a range of hills and
mountains, with a dispersal of runners seen walking up the exposed trail
slopes.
While advancing on a route bypassing
Ling Wui Shan Tsuen on the east, I managed to gain on Mun Cheong, one of the
folks at the Fat Ass Run (FAR) group.
"Siong San is up ahead by 20
minutes", he informed, of the lead another FAR member was extending.
San was nowhere in sight when I went on a
knee-bursting descent down a stack of high steps to the coast of Yi O. From
there, it was concrete pavement once more, on a mildly undulating surface bound
for Fan Kwai Tong. The path connects to a bridge next to what looks
like a small man-made wetland, and then links to the main road in Tai O, a
straight dash for Checkpoint 5 at a local school.
It was 56km by then.
"Terry!", I heard as I entered
the school canteen for refreshments. I caught sight of two people at the far
end of the area but couldn't make out who they are due to my fatigue.
Once gaining clarity, I realised it
was Chris Yun and Reuben. The latter inquired about my needs and all I could
think about was my depleting blood sugar.
"I need Nutella bread spreads", I
uttered. Or any other stuffs fully loaded with calories. There were no bread so
Reuben got me a paper bowl of instant noodles with soup, M&Ms and some sour
fruit.
 |
| School building, location of Checkpoint 5, Tai O (56km). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
 |
| School canteen at Checkpoint 5. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
I was humbled by his gesture. The man is
one of the toughest ultra-runners I know in Singapore and it's heartening to
see individuals like his kind volunteering his services to the community. He
continued to ask if I still want anything else.
"...but I can't give you a
massage", he joked.
I checked with Chris and Reuben about the
status of the rest of our friends, specifically Kenny (Chris' husband) Bok Ong,
Siong San, Terence and Sanmuga.
Terence had already left a long time ago
while Kenny and Bok were hours behind towards reaching Tai O. Chris and Reuben
were unsure if Siong San had even came in.
Just then, Mun Cheong dropped by and
minutes later, Siong San who actually took a wrong direction before making it
to the checkpoint. Both shared a mat on the canteen floor and dozed off.
I queried with Reuben about the upcoming
trail towards Checkpoint 6 at Ngong Ping, particularly some place that involved
bushwhacking up a hill.
 |
| San (left) and Cheong took a rest at Checkpoint 5. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
"Oh, that section is tough", he
warned
With that caution in mind, I consulted the
elevation profile graph of LT100 on my iPhone, ensuring that I had consumed
enough for the road ahead. I had never been this attentive to race info until
the race. I used to assume that an ultra will always be a journey of ups and
downs (literally), with unpredictable incidents that even the best of
preparations may not be sufficient.
 |
| Elevation profile graph of TransLantau 100. Image courtesy of Asia Sport Connection Ltd. |
_____________________________
Bidding farewell to Chris and Reuben, I
left the aid station at a very forgiving pace of a brisk walk. There was just
enough time to hold back speed and enjoy the early afternoon after 1pm.
Crossing over to the other side of a river, I wandered along Sun Ki Street which cuts through a row of quiet village houses. 13 minutes later, I reached a coastal trail on the east of Tai O and continued for another 46 minutes by the waters next to the Zhujiang River Estuary.
Crossing over to the other side of a river, I wandered along Sun Ki Street which cuts through a row of quiet village houses. 13 minutes later, I reached a coastal trail on the east of Tai O and continued for another 46 minutes by the waters next to the Zhujiang River Estuary.
At 2:12pm, the forewarned bushwhack came, a
short but difficult 2km+ over a few hill humps. The route crams through a
narrow trail, tightly congested on both sides with shrubs, bushes and branches
so that one cannot evade the scratches by plants when moving
past.
Good pace management assuaged the physical
toil of the ascent. I went for a few steps ahead before pausing for a very
brief rest and ample recovery for my legs. Then repeat the same
thing again. An all-out effort would be a near-suicidal act.
More than agony from exhaustion, I was increasingly annoyed by the prolonged bouts of bushwhacks and hill humps when it seemed I was getting nearer to the highest point of the section.
Thankfully, the weather was humane with its moderate coolness and humidity but
my mind would not spare Clement Dumont, the LT100 race director, its
indignation.
Only a sadistic man could think of a
torture like this.
 |
| Hills near Ngong Ping. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
On a positive note, the slow climb was
an opportunity to witness first-hand the courtesy of Hong Kong's trail runners.
Whether alone or in a column, the locals gladly give way to overtakers by stepping aside, no egos, really.
I managed to have a conversation with one
of them, a lady who looks to be in her 50s, as we trudged our way towards a
Ngong Ping cable car station. She asked on why I have not bring along a pair of
hiking poles for the race.
"...because I'm training for UTMF
(Ultra Trail Mount Fuji)," was one of my answers. It is, at least, the
most sensible reason other than to strip off additional
weight on the race vest. Perhaps out of concern of environmental damage and an obligation to preserve its UNESCO World Heritage status, the
Japaneses have banned the use of hiking poles from 2014 onwards, rendering UTMF
a harder race at some of its more technical sections.While the same ruling does
not apply for LT100, I thought it's better that I endure the entire 100km
without the sticks.
Moreover, my observation of some
pole-equipped participants for the past hours only strengthen my theory that
sticks could do little in boosting efficient movements once reaching a degree
of over-dependence. I had seen people who were so cautious of moving
that their poles had to be strategically planted on the ground before they would even dare bring their
feet forward.
%2B132.JPG) |
| Cable cars bound for Ngong Ping (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Hence, the effect was a decreased
spontaneity of natural leg movements when racing with hiking sticks. Walks
become more robotic and less enjoyable, and the sheer boredom puts this
practice into question. After such an experience, the Vietnam Mountain Marathon
(2013) was the last event where I employed poles.
About 16 hours and 58 minutes, just before
4.30pm, I recorded 68km at the original Ngong Ping Checkpoint 3 which now
served as Checkpoint 6.
 |
| Heading towards Checkpoint 6 at Ngong Ping. Photo courtesy of Shawn Cheung. |
_____________________________
Dominating as the king of heights in TL100 was Lantau Peak, the highest point in the race at 934m (the second tallest summit in Hong Kong) and my next destination. With that cleared, the route dives to Checkpoint 7 at Pak Kung Au, and more forgiving peaks follow till the end point at Mui Wo.
Still... how hard can that be?
It was not a question posed out of pride or
ignorance, but of familiarity. Last
year, I flew to the SAR for a one day quickie on the Lantau trails, with the
peak as the biggest highlight. Although it was an exhausting push to the top,
the main bulk of the pain was actually felt in the lower half of the climb,
which were mostly high steps. The rest of the ascent, while steep, is not as punishing and enters into the misty shroud of the summit.
%2B169.JPG) |
| Lantau Peak (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
That little weekend fling was several
months ago. Having accumulated about 70km on rugged terrain now, could my
still-functioning legs be able to persist against the elevations on this
particular part of the course?
I commenced on the ascent conservatively.
A few high steps up.
Stop. Break for a few seconds and allow the legs
to recover from the strain.
Walk on up again and repeat.
It was finally ingrained into my mentality
that a climb need not be a banzai charge to the bitter end.
I passed by a ragged runner sitting on a
step.
OK. The tactic was working. I will just
keep at it until this part is done.
Soon, I got to the upper half of the
summit. It will be easy from here.
%2B176.JPG) |
| Along the ascent towards Lantau Peak (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Should I be surprised by the fact that at this
point, it actually turned out well when it was expected to be tougher?
I remembered Wee's words on the TransLantau
100.
"It was not that hard one," he
remarked, in his thick mid-generational Singlish accent.
Initially, I thought that comment was made
based on Wee's more extensive resume of completed races. After all, this man
took down Ultra Trail Mount Du Blanc into his list of admirable achievements.
So how would a rookie like myself be able to tone down my challenge in the same
breath as he does?
But it was not out of arrogance, not even
seasoned experiences, that Wee said what would have been the most irrational
thing to be heard by a novice.
Yes, TransLantau 100 is hard and brutal.
Still, it is not as extravagantly difficult as some (as well as the more pessimistic regions of
my mind) have made it out to be.
From a good handful of folks, I had heard
tales of eye-popping high mountain slopes and the hellish stretch in reaching
the finish line. I have been warned of the relentless bushwhack that would precede
Lantau Peak and the murder it would commit on my energy reserves.
In short, I have been told enough to give
this race second thoughts.
Yet, the many hours till now (with the
exception of my excruciating hike around Sunset Peak), have generally
been a different story. Aside from fatigue and the occasional hunger, I was in,
at least, average condition and, from 21km+ onwards, overtaking runners which
was about 95% of the time versus being passed.
Not long after, I reached Lantau Peak as a thick
mist covered and swept across the area.
Going down was the hairier part. Along the
exiting slope at Lantau Trail Section 3 is a dirt path as well as several large
rocks with smooth and moist surfaces. Stepping carelessly on one of those would
prove to be any fool's downfall, literally. The thought of tumbling down the
peak restricted my hike to a painfully slow pace.
%2B185.JPG) |
| Summit of Lantau Peak (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
A fellow racer, upon noticing my highly
cautious descent, advised me to walk down sideways. This way, if I should step
on a slippery rock, my body posture will be sturdy enough to prevent falling.
%2B191.JPG) |
| Descending from the summit of Lantau Peak (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Several more minutes to 6pm, the sky was
already dimming for the coming night. My speed picked up a little along the
trail ridge as I felt the urgency to reach the Pak Kung Au aid station, another
'double-checkpoint' which had served as one after the Sunset Peak rundown on
Saturday morning.
Arriving at checkpoint 7 after nearly one
hour from Lantau Peak, I met Sanmuga who was about to leave the aid station. We
had a brief chat as I prepared my rations and two headlights, ensuring fresh
batts in place to keep the lumen burning.
The journey from here will be a more
merciful deal compared to the taxing hours in the early and middle parts of the
race. However, those periods had inflicted a massive drain of energy and even
with 27km left, the distance still felt like an eternity of miles off a
marathon.
It is going to take outstanding patience to bear through the rest of the race.
It is going to take outstanding patience to bear through the rest of the race.
______________________________
It was getting dark as I left Checkpoint 7
and ventured onto a trail that contoured by the side of a mountain at Lantau
South Country Park. Once the declining visibility warranted for it, my
headlight went live with beam blast and penetrated the darkness. In this quiet
evening, it was just the sound of my footsteps, breathing and the bouncing
items in my race vest.
Zipping along dirt surfaces and
boulders-strewn gullies, I could imagine being the Initial D (a Japanese manga)
protagonist, Takumi Fujiwara, speeding and drifting his iconic AE86 Trueno
along the mountain passes of Mount
Akina. Such was the energetic vibe of the night, to still be moving at a decent
pace and relishing it, the joy of an ultra trail runner.
Midway, my headlight began to weaken, which
was puzzling as I thought batteries with sufficient power had been installed
into the device. This prompted me to stop and draw out my second headlight and
thankfully, it was amply bright to shine the way forward. As a light glare from
another runner approached, I quickly secured the straps of my race vest and scooted
off.
At about 81km+, the route started to
descend down South Lantau Country Trail to the unlit South Lantau Road. I
briefly relinked to another portion of the trail before crossing over to Lantau
Trail Section 12. One more hill climb and a rush-down that brought me to Checkpoint 8 at Chi Ma Wan Road.
By then, Sanmuga, who reached the aid
station around the same time as I did, decided to lie down for a nap. He needed
not to worry much. Anyone who had came this far would stand a very good chance
of finishing the race. It was, after all, less than a half marathon left, at
83km.
However, there were still a handful of hilltops to surmount. The body
had long proven its capability to conquer the terrains but the mind was now
wishing to be done with the race quickly.
After the hills, I found myself slipping
off into a Twilight Zone of sorts at Chi Ma Wan Country Trail.
The horror there was not a stalking spectre
over the trees. It was not a shadowy creature lurking in the woods. And, even
though plausible, not a pack of feral dogs that would snarled at incoming
intruders.
It was the unadulterated madness of
monotony, manifested in a series of near-identical trail sections passed
through. Everything just looked the same; the way the dirt paths turned and
even the arrangement of boulders on the ground. It was as if a supernatural
entity had somehow stretched the trail around so as to look endless, or send
the unfortunate runner into a trance of a repetitive mental hell, of which
escape is almost futile.
The humdrum was gradually
killing my enthusiasm. In dying urgency to flee this insanity, I spiked up the
pace and tried to run continuously for several minutes but could only exert out
a couple of short bursts.
Alas, the distance did not seem to get
shorter. I felt as if I had been dashing around in circles.
I hasted past a Caucasian runner who was
resting on a boulder at the edge of the trail, facing towards the surrounding
waters of the Admasta Channel. Has he lost hope, I wondered, to be so torn up
by the ceaseless struggle along this passage that he needs to recollect himself
before going further?
Personally, I was pretty hung up at that
point. Elevation gains are piffling along this trail area but so disconcerting
is the effort to complete it.
When it finally concluded (after what's
actually was a very short but intolerable 4km),
the dirt path ended abruptly, with two paths on the left and right of
the trail.
A new problem arose: Which one should I
take?
There was a lack of proper indications on
the directions. Even strips of reflective bands, hung on trees by the right
side, did not look like race official objects, rather more resembling of
random stuffs put in place by hikers or park rangers.
I checked my iPhone to verify from my map
app and a PDF copy of the Lantau map, but, like my uncertainty around Sunset
Peak on Saturday monring, the same conundrum struck me.
I decided to sit and wait for another
runner to come my way, hoping he will be able to elucidate on the correct
direction.
A few minutes later, a local racer dropped by. However, he was just about as confused as I was, and had to make a
phone call and check with his friend.
"The left side," he said after
gathering the answer.
A brief while lasted on that path until I
had a nagging sense that we were deviating away from the actual route. Looking
at my smartphone, I realised that we seem to be drifting away from Checkpoint 9
at Shap Long, instead of towards it. I voiced my concern to my temporal
companion who did not doubt my worries. We retraced our steps to where we began
after the end of the Chi Ma Wan Country Trail and eventually bumped into a
group of runners.
This time, the clarifications were more
convincing: it's the right turn, that is, the right direction.
Just to be sure, I ran ahead of the other
runners and kept an eye for reflective bands that could confirm the route
taken. The tell tale signs appeared and, though a little unsure, I was now more
confident that we are not going to get lost anytime soon.
Following a bridge crossing , a hill climb
and a run-through in what looked like a bamboo forest, we reached the fringe of
a small settlement at Chi Ma Wan Road.
94km later and 12 minutes past midnight on Sunday morning, we came to
the final aid station at Shap Long, a lonely outpost with few volunteers and a
less attractive spread of food available.
Not that the latter mattered much; 6km of
race distance remained and it will be all over in, at least, an hour's time.
Finishing was no longer a deniable outcome.
I eagerly launched off for the final
assault.
I tried, whatever my waning strength allowed, to sustain my run which would many times slowed to a fast walk. No worries as long as the average pace was consistent and my legs do not collapsed halfway.
______________________________
I tried, whatever my waning strength allowed, to sustain my run which would many times slowed to a fast walk. No worries as long as the average pace was consistent and my legs do not collapsed halfway.
The route headed northeast and skirted the
sea by Chi Ma Wan. Along the way, an exposed pipeline accompanied the concrete
path I pounded on. I passed by a brick house that seemed abandoned.
Is there a ghost in there?
My imagination managed to spook me once more as I closed in steadily to Mui Wo.
My imagination managed to spook me once more as I closed in steadily to Mui Wo.
In the horizon, I could see the dark form
of a hill and wondered if I was going to climb over or circumvent around it. I
couldn't quite remember how I went through the area but eventually, I ended up
on Lantau Trail Section 12.
The last trail section to
tackle.
Flickers of light, obscured by tree cover,
came into view as I darted by the rear of
Mui Wo Ferry Pier Road. A welcoming sight of civilization, with orange
glow illuminations of what's possibly the local bus depot and a sewage
treatment plant.
The trail exit leads down a short flight of
stairs, and then a tarmac road.
Another right turn, this time around weathered,
concrete buildings, and running past a small group of cheering patrons sitting
outside a closed restaurant.
I overtook my last competitor on the way.
%2B202.JPG) |
| Mui Wo (Recce trip to Lantau, Hong Kong, 13 September 2014, Saturday). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Moving by the ferry terminal, I felt
slightly irritated that route directions were ambiguous once more. How am I
expected to know if I have gone the right way? It did not make sense why the
thought would even bothered me at this point when the end was just less than a
mile away.
All that uncertainties would soon be
wiped off by the exhilaration of the outcome.
The finale took me across a bridge. On
the bumpy sands of the Silvermine Bay Beach. And then the inflatable balloon
gantry, bearing the TransLantau logo, appeared.
At about 1:05am on Sunday morning, my
journey ended, in 25 hours, 35 minute and 23 seconds.
 |
| Finishing at Silvermine Bay Beach. Photo courtesy of Jenny Liu (Sportsoho.com) |
______________________________
Rest was rather uncomfortable, with the
severely sore legs and dirt on my skin. Unfortunately, my lodging was situated
in Kowloon and the ferry terminal was closed for the night, though I was not in
a hurry to depart from Lantau.
For the next several hours till the event's
conclusion, I decided to wait on my fellow compatriots and take snapshots of
their triumphant moments of finishing the race. It was probably the best I
could do for them.
I did the same thing last year at UTMF,
except that I had dropped out at 28km and went back early to my accommodation
near the Kawaguchiko train station.
 |
| Kim Lai (left) and Ben Swee finished the race. Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
Instead of sulking and indulging in
self-pity the following morning, I made my way down to the race site at
Yagisaki Kouen which is located by Lake
Kawaguchi. I was there for most of Saturday till late Sunday morning, patiently
anticipating the arrivals of Singaporean racers.
In that edition of UTMF, the DNF rate of
the Singapore contingent was significantly high. Two runners, Kai Wei and Chris
Yeo, completed the dreaded 169km distance. Only one racer, Alvin Png, ran the
whole of the shorter category, the 80km+
Shizuoka To Yamanashi (STY).
It could have been one of those unfinished
businesses I would never come back to for the rest of my life. Except, with a
promise I made to a race official during my evacuation off the trail, and an
unremitting sense that my DNF might be a very premature decision, I felt deeply
an imperative desire that UTMF must be attempted again, this year.
Thankfully, I had a successful
registration, guaranteeing me a spot for the upcoming race.
In fact, I joined TransLantau 2015 as part
of my preparations and training for UTMF. With the former in March, it would be
about a month away until April when I would fly to Japan for my major.
However, things did not go as planned. The
UTMF committee scheduled the event to late September due to concerns over
extreme cold and the risk of hypothermia. The revised date is supposedly the
'warmer' season so I would have lesser worries over a disastrous outing like
what happened last year.
As it turned out, there is now additional
gracious months to ramp up my training.
With my finish at TranLantau, I was
bestowed with valuable experiences which would be beneficial in my quest of UTMF. I was somehow surprised by the lessons that I received from TL100, considering my initial pre-race
apprehensions. In addition, not only had I broke a drought, in which I had not
completed a 100km/+ race for more than a year, I also underwent what may well be
my best performances in that ultra distance.
With those achievements in hand, my confidence
in competing UTMF rose.
Maybe, this might be my year.
And maybe, just maybe, there has always
been a divine purpose behind all these events.
Interestingly, in the one to two months
after UTMF, I will be expected to start on my degree studies, another
unsettled business not related to running. The period will mark a prolonged
season of 16-18 months in which I'm highly unlikely to join any ultras. With a
busy work life and night classes, it will be a tight squeeze on training hours.
In other words, UTMF is my last ultra before spending over a year in temporal
retirement.
It's now a do-or-die endeavour
and I owe myself little excuses not to finish.
Yet, has there always been a deeper motivation for
me in doing the race, this time round?
Has it been.... about someone in my heart?
 |
| Personalized finisher's certificate for TransLantau 100 (2015). Photo courtesy of Terry Tan. |
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