Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge 2018 Race Report
There’s a problem with being an ultrarunner. You get into it because you like a big challenge. But the challenges can get a little out of control. In my case, I started off in 2010 doing the 60km Kepler Challenge in New Zealand, a beautiful mountain run that takes runners hundreds of metres above incredible lakes. It seems like a long way and most people take four days to hike it. I finished in 7 and a half hours, comfortably mid-pack, and exhausted. But then a friend asked me to try a 100km race. From there, I started wondering if I could run 100 miles, and I lucked my way into an absolutely iconic North American 100 mile race, the Western States Endurance Run, which I finished in 26 hours.
 |
| Completing the 2013 Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run in 26 hours 23 mins. Credit: Facchino Photography (used with permission) |
So now I’m running distances that are just so ridiculous.
They are so long that standing at the start line, it seems insane to even
contemplate starting out because there seems logically no way that I can
finish, yet I already have run that far in the past, so I have a weird
confidence that it can be done. That tension, between it seeming impossible yet
knowing it is actually possible, can become an addiction. But to fuel it, you
need to find new challenges that push you even further.
In 2013 I met Andre Blumberg while we were both
training for Western States. Andre is pretty well known in Asian running
circles for some epic runs around the world. One year at Chinese New Year he
decided to try doing all four of Hong Kong’s long trails:
• the Maclehose Trail, running east-west
across the New Territories, is 100km including some of Hong Kong’s highest
mountains
• the Wilson Trail, running 78 km from the
south side of Hong Kong Island up to the border with the Mainland (and crossing
the harbor via MTR)
• the Hong Kong Trail, traversing Hong Kong
Island on a 50km route
• the Lantau Trail, a 70km loop around one of
Hong Kong’s big outlying islands.
I had actually also had this thought. In 2010,
when I ran my first ultra at the Kepler Challenge, I had connected with Mal
Law, an incredible kiwi running icon who raises money through taking on massive
challenges, and he was running all seven of New Zealand’s “Great Walks” in seven
days. It got me thinking whether it was possible to do Hong Kong’s four trails
in four days. Here’s the difference between me and Andre – I quickly determined
it was impossible. The Hong Kong trails are considerably longer than those run
by Mal in NZ and I didn’t even know if it was possible to run the longest, the
100km Maclehose, in under 24 hours!
However, when he tried it, Andre actually had
no real problems. Each day of Chinese New Year he got up early and got out on a
trail, then had time to get a few hours sleep before the next one. He completed
it and reported that he was a little disappointed that it wasn’t harder. So the
next year he decided to try to do all four in three days, and also invite some
other people to join him. Over the years it developed further until its current
format: run all four back-to-back-to-back-to-back with no real rest in between
and try to complete them in 2 and a half days. The final trail was Lantau and
it ended with runners kissing a green colonial-era post-box at the ferry pier. Do
that less than 60 hours after starting, and you get called a Finisher of the
Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge. Lesser mortals who need a bit more time
are called Survivors. Each year the standards get a little harder. By 2018 you
needed to finish in 75 hours to survive. Longer than that, you were out of
luck.
Needless to say, I thought HK4TUC was all a bit
nuts. Lots of HK people, me included, have done the 100km Maclehose Trail as
the Oxfam Trailwalker, which takes most people longer than 24 hours and is the
hardest thing they’ve ever done. For this challenge you’d need to do it much
faster and then only be one-third done. Then there was the sleep, or more
precisely, lack thereof. I’d done events that went through one night and had
found it OK as long as I kept going, then I would crash once I finished. This
event would require you to go through a second night and maybe a third.
Finally, in Andre’s simple concoction, HK4TUC competitors have to be fully
self-supported while on the trail. Between trails they are allowed a crew,
food, transportation to the next trail, etc. But on the trail, you have to
carry everything by yourself, and you’re not allowed any company. You can buy
supplies at shops or vending machines but those are often few and far between
(and at night, over Chinese New Year, often closed).
In 2014, after 15 years in Hong Kong, my family
and I moved back to New Zealand. Each year I followed HK4TUC from afar, seeing
it slowly build into a significant event. At the same time, I kept running
ultras, getting more experienced at how to keep moving forward after hours on
the trail. Then the possibility came up of taking a job back in Hong Kong. I
found myself thinking that if I did go back, HK4TUC would be a great goal to
have. And the 2018 edition was scheduled for two weeks before my 50th
birthday.
So, in July 2017, as I moved back to Asia, I
submitted my application for HK4TUC. A few weeks later Andre sent me an email
apologizing for admitting me to the race. “We hope you are ready to suffer in
the challenge.” Shortly afterwards, a documentary was released on the 2017
edition, “Breaking 60”, which (spoiler alert) is an inspiring examination of
four runners, two of whom break 60 hours and two of whom don’t finish. It
seemed to me that breaking 60 hours was possible but was going to be hard; I
felt that 75 hours to survive should be OK if nothing major went wrong (pretty
big if).
However, I was clearly going to need coaching
help to get my body in the shape needed for such a massive undertaking. I
reached out to Mile27, an Australian coaching group, and signed up with Scotty
Hawker, an international elite ultrarunner who happens to also be from my
hometown, Christchurch. Starting from August, Scotty would send me a weekly
schedule, and I’d get them in my diary. The next five months of training went
very well. I slowly built up the distances I was running, doing most of my
training midweek running to work in the morning or home in the evening.
Saturdays I’d do a long run for most of the morning (some days leaking into the
afternoon). Sundays started as more restful, family days, but ended up as the
second part of a doubleheader as we got closer to the event. It’s always hard
making sure that I’m spending enough time with my family while training and
definitely that takes a hit leading into an event. I’m lucky to have a wife and
kids who are so supportive and let me be selfish (as long as it is not all the
time!).
By early January I was feeling bullet-proof. We
had a great holiday to NZ and I got some good training in on rugged NZ hiking
trails. I could go for a 3 hour run at night, get a few hours sleep, then wake
up early and do a long day on Saturday. I had no idea if I was fit enough to
run 300km but I knew I had never been in such good shape.
But nothing ever goes perfectly and with 5
weeks to go, things started to go wrong. I picked up a stomach bug from my son
which had me eating nothing for a couple of days. Then I strained my calf, an
injury that I hadn’t had before – it stayed with me a few days, then went away,
but I could feel tightness there up to the start of HK4TUC. Then HK went into
lockdown as a terrible flu season hit and everyone seemed to be coughing and
spluttering. With seven days to go, I seemed to get a mild virus which took all
my energy and left me with sore joints. Was this going to be disaster?
With a day or so to go, things picked up. My
energy levels got back to normal, I didn’t seem to have any injuries, so I was
ready to go. I had found people to be my crew – John Wacker and Tanya (Pirate)
Bennett. I didn’t know John and Pirate well but they seemed super cool and up
for the task and enthusiastic about the event. From experience, those were the
crucial ingredients. They would meet me at the end of each trail and pamper me,
and then get to the next one. I needed a ride to the start line and snagged one
with Marie McNaughton, a running star and fellow Kiwi, which I took to be a
good sign!
Friday 16 January, 8am (0 hours elapsed)
TRAIL 1: MACLEHOSE (100km, 4733m vertical)
 |
| Ready for action in Tuen Mun, a few minutes before the start. Credit: Palani Mohan (used with permission) |
The start of HK4TUC is at the Maclehose
trailhead in Tuen Mun, on the far West side of Kowloon Peninsula, from where
we’d run across Kowloon and the New Territories to Pak Tam Chung in Sai Kung.
At a small, non-descript concrete junction, runners and supporters started
appearing around 7am on the first day of Chinese New Year. It quickly became a
Who’s Who of HK trailrunning and HK4TUC; the only four people to ever finish in
under 60 hours were there (Chiu Wen Hsiao was running again; Tom Robertshaw,
Stone Tsang, and Jag Lanante were all supporters) and I was a fanboy excitedly
shaking their hands and chatting with them about the challenge ahead. We all
had our photos taken by Lloyd Belcher (and his daughter Anya), and then we got
a tracker to put in our packs which would allow others to follow us all
weekend. My friend Rory was there; we’d
done some training together and had joined forces to figure out our support
needs. Then some quick pics by my friend Palani Mohan and it was time for the
group to assemble.
 |
| The starters in the 2018 Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge. I'm in the back row in green; beside me in the white shirt is Abimanyu Shunmugam. The next time I'd see Abi would be 5 mins from the end. Credit: Lloyd Belcher (used with permission) |
And just like that, we were off. I ended up at
the tail end of the starting group which was fine; we set off and I chatted to
people as we passed each other. I had good chats with Jason, an American working
for the US Government in Thailand; Aaron, who was a really strong ultrarunner
from Los Angeles; Fai, a leading Hong Kong runner who is very experienced in
long events, and Tony, who was the youngest starter at 18 years – I joked with
him that we made a good team since I was the oldest starter. The first few
hours were spent in and out of this group plus Rory, sometimes together but
sometimes alone. All very casual, and easy. At about 15km there is the start of
a big climb up about 300m, the first of many climbs we would do. The day was
starting to get warm, so we were all wary of the pace we were setting. At the
same time, you don’t want to waste any time. Keeping that balance would be a
challenge all day.
At 20km I stopped to get water from the vending
machine – but no machine was there. First problem. I checked my supplies. I
still had plenty of fluids, and I knew there were definitely machines in
another 16km. So I tried to stay calm and just keep going to there.
From this point we climbed to the highest point on the entire course, Tai Mo Shan, at almost 1000m. The day was starting to get really warm now, well above 20 degrees, which is unusual for this time of year. I was taking the big climbs slowly but even so two bad things were happening: (1) my legs were starting to cramp, and (2) they were also starting to hurt. We were only about 10% into the event and things seemed to be going in the wrong direction. How could I keep this up for three days?
 |
| The day is getting hot up on Tai Mo Shan. Credit: Lloyd Belcher (used with permission) |
Quickly a third challenge would present itself.
The next vending machines were where they should have been, but none had water
– just soft drink and sports drink. It was known that the authorities were
going to remove water bottles to try to reduce plastic pollution, but it was
supposed to start after Chinese New Year. If there was no water to be had on a
hot day, it was going to be difficult to run 100km. I filled up on sports drink
and hoped that a shop would be open at the halfway stage.
Running ultras is all about dealing with these
kinds of challenges. I had been joking with friends earlier that I knew one
thing I would not say after HK4TUC was “Well, that all went according to plan
and was pretty straightforward.” So here, relatively early on day 1, I had to
decide consciously to slow down, try to get to the next water stop (if indeed
there would be some), and just take care of myself. My cramping was getting
worse, but it was not debilitating (yet). I hobbled up and down the Kowloon
hills, making my way to the famous Shatin Pass noodle shop.
To my huge relief, as I ran up towards the shop
at about 4pm, there were a large group of runners all there eating and
drinking. I was able to get water and stock up enough to last me for the rest
of that trail (just as well, because no more was available). Some friends were
just leaving as I arrived; others arrived while I was there. We’d got through
the heat of the day and were still moving forward. Small victories.
After about 15 minutes I left (just as Rory was
arriving – good to see him in good spirits). I was soon caught up by Henry
Yang, a Singaporean runner I’d spent time with a few weeks before when he
visited Hong Kong for training. We ran the next few hours together, as it
became dusk and then got dark for the first time, and it was good to have the
company.
Now that the day was cooling down, my legs felt
a lot better and my energy was returning. I had plenty of fluids so was not
dehydrated. But my time was slow. I was clearly going to be considerably off my
target time, but I was reasonably confident of beating the 18 hour cutoff;
however, I had to keep pushing on. Henry had twisted his ankle earlier in the
day and around the 70km mark I suddenly noticed that he was no longer right
behind me. A few kms later there was a toilet and vending machine and he caught
me up but was clearly moving a bit slower. I said I’d push on and I hoped he’d
catch me up. I felt bad leaving him, but the cutoff was now getting
uncomfortably close.
About this time I also came across Jason. He
was a super strong runner and he had done well during the day but now all that
exertion was taking a toll. I hoped he would also be able to keep going but
pressed on past him.
The next section, around the beaches of Sai Kung Country Park, is beautiful and very remote, and I was moving easily. I had done this section in the dark a few weeks earlier so was very confident finding my way around. As I got to the last beach, about 12km from the end, I was very surprised to find that I had caught Wen Hsiao, the former finisher who is extremely quick. I went past him but then took a wrong turn and he helped me get back on the trail. We climbed a hill and got up to the High Island Dam, where the last 10km are a road along the side of a reservoir. The concrete is hard but much quicker to run on that the rocky, technical trail. We got up to the road and found Aaron also there. Suddenly I’d caught two of the strongest runners in the field, and I was feeling better than they were. The time was 12.30am, which meant we’d taken 16 and a half hours and had 90 mins to get the cutoff. Walking a good pace would take about 1 hour 40 mins, which would mean we’d be too late. I knew I was cutting it fine, but this was a little too fine for me. So I told the other guys that we needed to do some running, and so we all took off. It was great having them there, since we could feed off each other. We didn’t talk much because we were pretty tired but it was a very friendly group as we ran most of the flats and walked briskly up the hills. We were moving well and with 5km to go I was pretty comfortable that we’d make it. We ended up rolling in at 17 hours and 42 minutes, a cushion of 18 minutes. Andre was ringing his cowbell to bring us in, his partner Paper was there taking photos and very happy to see us, and Tanya and John were totally psyched since my tracker had temporarily stopped working and they didn’t know how far we were away! It felt like a real victory, especially as it sunk in that since we were close to the cutoff, not many of the people behind would make it. And sure enough, Rory, Henry, and Jason, among several others, missed the cutoff, meaning their weekend was done. 28 started, and only 15 began the Wilson Trail. But I was one of them.
 |
| High fives with Pirate and Andre at the end of the Mac. Credit: Patchanida Pongsubkarun (used with permission) |
 |
| It sinks in: I've lived to fight another day. Credit: Patchanida Pongsubkarun (used with permission) |
Saturday 17 February, 2.55am (18 hours 55 mins
elapsed)
TRAIL 2: WILSON (78km, 4395m vertical)
 |
| John making sure I'm doing my shoes up correctly at the start of the Wilson Trail. Credit: Pirate (used with permission) |
 |
| Into the night on the Wilson Trail. Credit: Pirate (used with permission) |
I was feeling OK but after the day’s heat I
didn’t want to overexert myself, so I climbed slowly. As I was making my way to
the ridge everything was very quiet, and somewhere eerie since I passed
abandoned villages in the middle of the forest (luckily I had been through here
before several times so expected them; it would be interesting to encounter
them later when my sleep-deprivation-induced hallucinations were in full
swing!). It was great to make it to the ridge but you then climb up and down
for several km before finally getting to the top of Wong Leng, the highest
point on the Wilson Trail. Several people who’d started after me had overtaken
me by this stage but I was just happy to still be in the Challenge and to be
moving forward.
I got to Tai Po about 9am. The 7-11 was there
and I chowed down on some noodles with Takahiro Hamai, a returning Japanese
runner who had attempted HK4TUC once before. Neither of us was in a big hurry
and we made sure we got enough to eat and drink. I left a little ahead of
Takahiro but I soon heard his hiking poles tapping the road that we climbed to
get out of town. However I was pushing a little faster and soon was by myself
again. The morning that emerged on Day 2 was overcast and considerably cooler
than on Day 1. It made travelling much easier, even though by now everyone was
moving much slower than a day earlier. The great thing I noticed was that
whereas at this time yesterday my legs had been hurting, today they felt fine.
No particular muscle pains, knees and ankles working fine. If I could just keep
moving, I’d make progress today.
I hiked from Tai Po up to Lead Mine Pass. One of the interesting things of the Challenge is that there are a couple of sections where you go through the same area on two different trails (Hong Kong is not that big after all). We’d already been through Lead Mine Pass as the heat was building on Day 1; now it was much cooler on Day 2. From here we took a different path from the previous day, down to and around Shing Mun Reservoir, then over a hill to Kowloon Reservoir. There were a few monkeys around, since big groups live here, but they were fairly quiet on a heavy day. Coming down to Kowloon Reservoir I caught up to Tony, the 18 year old. We shared the trail for an hour or so, and it was great to have the company. When I was 18 there is no way I’d have the drive to train for something like this, but Tony was going strong. Once we crossed Tai Po Road and hit a flat 6km catchwater, Tony took off running. I half-heartedly followed but my energy stocks were a bit low so I jogged and hiked intermittently. I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the last moment I’d spend with one of the group on the trails until the very end. The next 40 hours, except for seeing my crew, I was going to be alone.
 |
| Making steady progress on the catch water below Amah Rock. Credit: Rouisa Tse (used with permission) |
Well, not completely alone. All along the course, at different times, I’d pass a jogger or hiker whose eyes would light up and they’d say, “Four trails?” When I said yes, they’d take pictures and ask how I was doing. I recognized several as former finishers and survivors. Later on this catchwater, just after I’d laid on a seat to have a brief (3 minute) rest, I came around the corner and saw Tom Robertshaw, HK4TUC record holder in a ridiculous 53 hours, and Rouisa Tse. Tom and Rouisa were very keen to ask how I was doing, and to pep my spirits up (which definitely needed some pepping). I’d see Tom about three different times on the trails! Then, a little later, as I was making my way back up to the Shatin Pass Noodle Shop (yes, same one from the day before), I recognize Mike Xie, a survivor from 2017, who sees me and then joins me in the noodle shop to chat about how it is all going. He’s enjoying himself but also telling me not to dawdle since I need to keep moving!
 |
| Still going through Tai Lam Wu. Credit: Nicole Arnulphy (used with permission) |
I pushed out of the MTR station and into the
street. I was surrounded by people going about their daily lives who had no
idea what I was putting myself through. I headed up the hill, and into the
darkness of the trail.
I was now well into the second night. Not yet
exhausted, but running on fumes, I had the first of several big hills to climb.
The night was getting windy as well. Far from the previous day’s unseasonal
heat, it was now cool and blustery, with the wind getting stronger the higher I
climbed. This first climb took me up 400m, which was slow going. On a night
like this there was no-one else around so it was just me and my headlamp. After
about an hour and a quarter, up over Siu Ma Shan, I hit the junction of the
Wilson and Hong Kong Trails. The next section I’d do twice, once now to finish the Wilson and then again later in the night as I traversed the Hong Kong Trail.
This section is part of my regular running routes, and I know it like the back
of my hand. I was still moving slow and labored up the next climb to Jardine’s
Lookout but it was a relief to be on a trail that I didn’t need to think about.
Coming down to Parkview there was some cheering and I found Lloyd Belcher ready
to take my photo. I look pretty decent, considering how tired I was feeling.
 |
| Made it to Parkview for the first time. Credit: Lloyd Belcher (used with permission) |
From Parkview, it was the famous path over
Violet Hill and the Twins to end the Wilson Trail at Stanley. This section is
less than 5km but rises 500m. The worst part is the climb up the Twins, which
goes up almost 1000 steps in a seemingly sheer vertical face. It is pretty
horrible as part of a regular workout but with 176km on your legs it was
complete torture. However, getting to the top of the first Twin, then down
slightly and back up again, and I found myself gazing over the sweet lights of
Stanley and heading down the 1200 steps to the end of the trail where John and
Pirate were waiting, along with Sasha who’d joined them for the pickup. It was
great to see them. I was two trails down, only two to go.
Saturday, 17 February, 11.43pm (39 hours 43
mins elapsed)
TRAIL 3: HONG KONG (50km, 1715m)
 |
| Sasha, Jay, and Amanda out in the middle of the night. Credit: Pirate (used with permission) |
The car whizzed us around the south side of
Hong Kong Island towards Shek O, a small village at the southeast end of the
island which is where the Hong Kong Trail starts. The shortest of the four,
with the least elevation, Hong Kong should be the easiest. But it was now well
into the second night, and the desire for sleep was approaching. Our friends
Amanda and Jay had come along to cheer me on, which was great, since by this
stage any human contact was greatly appreciated! I tried to get some sleep in
the car but it didn’t really come, so all too soon, I was in new clothes, with
a repacked bag and fresh headlamp battery, and was heading out into the night
just before midnight.
 | |
|
The first 3km was along a road to Big Wave Bay,
a great beach and the official start of the trail (Andre adds a little extra
because the official distance is a bit short, and he’s German). As I got to the
village I found my crew and friends had driven there before me so I had a
cheering section as I went off into the night. It was a good send-off but
quickly all became dark as I left the village and went up the steps of the
trail.
All of a sudden, alone in the dark, the sleep
monsters started descending. I began to get an overwhelming desire for sleep. I
pushed it away as I climbed up to the road that heads around towards the
Dragons Back. Finally, I could fight it no more. There was a bench on the side
of the road; i put my pack down as a pillow, lay down beside it, and closed my
eyes. Instantly images started moving through my mind as my consciousness began
to dissipate. I felt aware of what was happening, but at the same time I wasn’t
really awake. Three minutes later, I sat up. I wasn’t very comfortable and I
didn’t want to get stuck there for hours. But I felt that I had got some
benefit from a micronap.
As I walked further around the road, suddenly
there was clapping. I found two people standing there, clapping me; they said
they were out to cheer the 4 Trails competitors. I asked them if they were real
or if they were hallucinations; they assured me they were real. I’m pretty sure
I believed them. In any case, they were the last people I saw for about the
next 5 hours.
From here the trail circles back, high above
Shek O Road, and heads towards the Dragon’s Back. A classic Hong Kong day hike,
the Dragon’s Back has fantastic views over Big Wave Bay and Shek O. These days,
it is overrun with hikers on a nice day but on a windy Sunday morning at 1am I
had it to myself. I really struggled with sleep on the trail that leads around
to the climb, taking 34 mins to go 2km on the flat, but once I started climbing
the wind woke me up and I started moving better. Then down the hill, across
Shek O, further down the bay, and then up to the dreaded catchwater, a concrete
path that runs flat for about 7km to Tai Tam Reservoir. The catchwater is
boring at the best of times but in the middle of the second night with no sleep
it was impossible. For possibly the first time in my life, I started falling
asleep as I was walking. Luckily, there was only one way to go, and I knew the
whole of the Hong Kong Trail very well so getting lost wasn’t an issue. But I
was continually zoning out and then coming to and finding my feet still heading
in the right direction, albeit a bit slowly (however, Strava shows I was
walking 12 min per km on this section which isn’t too bad for sleepwalking!).
Getting to Tai Tam Road, I headed across and
entered the Country Park. All of a sudden I was swallowed up in the gloom of
the forest, which is pretty dense in this part and to be honest has always
given me the heebie-jeebies. This started a long slow climb up through the park
to Tai Fung Au, and then to Mt Butler, which is 450m high. About half way up I
lay down again at a picnic table and had another 5 min nap. This one seemed to
give me more relief from sleep and I felt much better. Coming down off Mt
Butler I hit the same section of trail I’d done on the Wilson, and so repeated
my steps to Parkview. No Lloyd this time; it was now about 6am. Below Parkview
I hit Wong Nai Chung Gap, which is halfway on the trail and where a 24 hour
petrol station had water and sports drink, allowing me to reload. Light was
beginning to filter across the sky as I headed up Blacks Link. Another picnic
table beckoned and another 5 min nap was taken. But it was getting on towards
7am and I still had a fair way to go. I had hoped to finish this trail soon
after daylight but it was clear it would be several hours before that happened.
Now two seemingly contradictory things
occurred. The growing daylight did a good job of keeping my sleep monsters at
bay. However, while my brain was not as sleepy, it was also not completely
awake. All around me, I was seeing things. In the dense bush that surrounded me
I was seeing complex structures, like houses and gardens, hidden deep among the
trees. I started wondering why someone would build a house down there, until it
occurred to me that it only existed in my head. However, knowing they were
hallucinations did nothing to reduce their salience. I was seeing figures
sitting on the path ahead of me, only to disintegrate as I got closer. When I
walked down stone steps, the patterns in the steps were not random shapes but
rather faces and animals, not quite clear but unmistakable all the same. Once I
got used to the hallucinations they were not particularly off-putting but they
were pervasive for several hours that morning. They would return with a
vengeance on the Lantau Trail the following night.
 |
| Finishing the Hong Kong Trail at the Peak. Credit: Palani Mohan (used with permission) |
 |
| Only one trail to go. Credit: Palani Mohan (used with permission) |
John had the car in the Peak Galleria carpark.
We made our way across and got in. I was ravenous and quickly polished off some
lasagne. It was 11am on Sunday morning and we had an hour to wait for the next
ferry to Mui Wo. I suggested that I had time to drop home for a shower, but
Pirate and John could tell how inviting my bed would be and quickly vetoed that
idea. It was the only moment of tough love that I required over the whole
weekend and was exactly the right call. Instead, we drove down near the ferry
pier and parked so that I could try to get some sleep. I closed my eyes and did
slip briefly out of consciousness but there was too much going on and it was
the middle of the day and so I didn’t get more than a few minutes.
 |
| Brief sleep. Not enough to keep the monsters at bay on night 3. Credit: Patchanida Pongsubkarun (used with permission) |
Sunday 18 February, 12.55pm (52 hours 55 mins
elapsed)
TRAIL 4: LANTAU (70km, 3077m)
 |
| About to start Lantau with advice from legends Andre and Tom; the Lee brothers (Breaking 60) and Paper also in support. Credit: Pirate (used with permission) |
 |
| Confidently (?) stepping out on the last trail: 70km to go. Credit: Pirate (used with permission) |
My situation still seemed quite good. I wasn’t
going to break 60 but I had more than 20 hours before the survivor deadline of
75 hours. Despite my blisters, I had no major injuries. The weather was good. I
just had to keep it together and I’d make it to the green postbox.
I had also been tracking the field, on and off,
but now, with the pressure off, I was paying a bit more attention. Two of the
fast guys, Salomon Wettstein and Phairat Varasin, were on track to break 60
hours – amazing. Meredith Quinlan, a really strong visiting Australian runner,
was also on the Lantau Trail but was several hours ahead of me. Somehow,
despite being the oldest runner in the field and only just scraping through the
first day, I was in 4th place. Behind me was Abi Shunmugam from
Singapore. Abi and I had stood beside each other for the photo at the start,
but that was the last time I’d seen him. He’d spent most of the first 36 hours
ahead of me, but had taken a break for a few hours at the end of the Wilson
Trail. My break there was much shorter so I’d started the Hong Kong Trail
before him. Since then, he’d been trailing me by an hour or two.
I wasn’t particularly worried about placings,
especially since HK4TUC is not officially a race, but 4th sounded
better than 5th so I tried to keep my pace from slackening too much.
Along the catchwater to Shui Hau, and again on the next one from Shek Pik to
Fan Lau, I tried to run as much as I could, generally jogging for 500-800m and
then walking for a couple of minutes, cognizant of the fact that I also didn’t
want to use up all my energy before the final section of the trail. Still, I
made it to Fan Lau just after dark, and managed to find a local house willing
to sell me a coke and a bottle of water. The couple were the last people I
would speak to until I was near the end of the Lantau Trail. I made good time
around the rest of the coast, brushing aside the famously-aggressive dogs in
the village of Yi-O, and getting to Tai O at about 9.20pm. I’d hoped to complete
the Lantau Trail in 15-16 hours; in terms of time, Tai O is about halfway and
it had taken about 8 and a half hours. So I was a little behind schedule but
not too much. Now, less than 30km from the finish, I was more than 90% done
with HK4TUC. But there were huge hills in my way, and I was entering my 3rd
night without any real sleep.
From Tai O, the trail goes steeply uphill,
climbing 200m in less than a kilometre, and then working up to 500m elevation
over the next 4km. I still had food and water and was not completely out of
energy but my lack of sleep was starting to become debilitating. I’d done this
trail several times in training but in the dark and in my current condition
everything seemed rather unfamiliar. Signs pointed one way but led me to a
junction that seemed very similar to the one I’d just left. More disconcertingly, I started to feel that
I was no longer in the conscious world but was instead living inside a dream,
where landscapes could shift and warp and just because I remembered climbing,
say, three peaks in a series on one part of the trail didn’t mean that those peaks
would still be there now. At one stage I felt that I was in a group of people all traveling together and then was surprised to realize that I was completely alone. I’d try to wake myself up but it was becoming harder
and harder. At the same time, there was no obvious place to take a nap and I
felt I was getting close enough to the finish to just power through.
On and on I climbed through the plateau that
covers South Lantau. At this elevation the sky was fairly clear and I started
getting lights from the villages and roads around Lantau to provide a bit more
spatial context for where I was, which was a relief. Eventually I made my way over
Keung Shan and found myself walking down through the fung shui woods to Sham
Wat Road. I was still struggling to feel fully awake but the path seemed to be
heading in a familiar direction so I went with it.
Down off the trail, I was facing a walk up Sham
Wat Road for 3.5km that would rise 160m to get to the tourist village of Ngong
Ping. There were noisy dogs on the other side of the road that I feared might
be aggressive but they let me pass without incident. So off I set, making
easier progress up the road but at a steep pitch that was very tiring to fight.
Hallucinations were dense in this section; I saw a continual series of people
that I knew to exist only in my head but seemed very real on the footpath ahead
of me. People would be sitting out, as if they were smoking or waiting for a
bus, but as I got right up to them they would disassemble into a collection of
shadows from the trees overhead. In the guttering of the road beneath my feet I
was seeing strange figures (clowns? Not exactly but similar) lying down, not
malevolent but a little unnerving. At the same time, I felt more awake here,
and more in control of my destiny. I just had to keep moving, and it didn’t
take too long to get up to Ngong Ping. It was 1.30am and so not surprisingly
the main tourist strip was closed, but that was the way I usually got to the
next part of trail. I spent more than 10 mins going back and forwards trying to
figure out how to connect to the trail but eventually worked it out with the
help of Google Maps. It wasn’t the last time that evening I was glad of cell
phone signal coverage. I hiked along the path out of town which goes up the
hill behind and then took me around the village to the base of Lantau Peak. It
was about 2.30am and from here on a regular day I could run back to Mui Wo in
about two and a half hours. It would take me slightly longer today.
Once again the first sign that things might
take longer than normal was that, as I came off the trail from Ngong Ping, I
suddenly had no clue where I was, even though I’ve been on that trail hundreds
of times. When I got my phone out I could work out the direction I should take,
but it didn’t feel very familiar. I got down to the Wisdom Path, however, and
here was the wooden gate that denotes the start of the climb to Lantau Peak. I
was on the homeward road.
Lantau Peak is the second highest peak in Hong
Kong at 934m, and is a massive hunk of volcanic rock in the centre of the
island. From where I was, the path climbs almost 500m in less then 2km. It is
very steep. Almost the whole way the path consists of steep stairs. At least I
have long legs. I set off.
Very quickly, things got very strange. Not
uncommonly for a winter’s night, the path was quickly enveloped by mist. I’ve
experienced this before, but on this night it took away all my spatial context
and with it, my remaining strength of consciousness. I entered a dream-state
from which I was unable to properly wake. I was no longer climbing stairs on
Lantau Peak on Monday morning; instead I was in the middle of a dream in which
stairs kept appearing out of nowhere, leading me to chase them. It seemed
arbitrary where they would appear, to my left or to my right. And as I climbed
higher and higher it appeared to me that I could be anywhere on the mountain.
If the stairs were organically growing in front of me, they could be leading me
in any direction. I sat down to try to compose myself. I wasn’t panicking, but
I also didn’t feel comfortable. It was time to bring out the big guns. All day
I’d had a can of Red Bull in my pack for when I needed clarity and energy. This
was that time. Normally I don’t touch the stuff but extraordinary sleepiness
called for extraordinary measures. I sunk it quickly and it gave me a burst of
energy, if not total cognitive clarity.
On and on I climbed, painfully slowly. I was
having trouble coordinating my poles on the slick steps in my tired state, and
so eventually decided they were more trouble than they were worth, and put them
away in my pack. It did become easier to climb without them, and I briefly felt
like Sam in Lord of the Rings climbing Mt Doom with Frodo on his back, a last
burst of strength coursing through his veins. Soon enough, though, the
adrenalin died away and I was back to inching my way up.
Suddenly I was at the lower peak, which is about 120m below the summit. This was at least a sign that despite everything, I had kept to the right path and was on my way. I kept heading upward. Every few steps I looked up, hoping that I would see the summit. Continually what seemed to be some rocks that marked the top would turn out to just be another group on the trail. It seemed like this section took forever but it appears it was only 15 mins, and finally, against all hope, I found myself on the top of Lantau Peak. I could hear people sheltering here (I’m pretty sure they were real and not just in my head) but I didn’t want to waste any time. My main fear was making sure that I took the path towards Pak Kung Au and Sunset Peak, and not disastrously go back the way I had come. Checking the signs several times, I headed down the slippery rocks.
However, my task was not really any easier.
This section of path is normally easy to navigate, but in many places the
official path is surrounded by rocks that have been worn down by hikers and so
the exact path is not always obvious. Normally you can just follow your nose
but with the low visibility and the fog inside my head as well as out on the
path, it seemed perpetually confusing. Moreover, despite knowing this path
extremely well, it now seemed devoid of familiar features. I seemed to be
passing through ruined villages, or old town squares, or similar manmade
environments that didn’t have people in them right now but were also
artificially, rather than naturally, created. But if the area I passed through
had been created by people, where on earth was I, because I know such places
didn’t exist on Lantau Peak! Moreover, as long as the path went down I could
follow it reasonably easily, but whenever it rose up (briefly), I suddenly lost
confidence as to which way I should be following it. At one point a marker
appeared an uphill part and I spent several minutes going back and forth to
check that I was indeed going the right way.
I also remember that this again seemed more
dream than reality. Since the rocks were slippery I was going slowly, knowing
that my coordination was impaired, but it meant the descent took an age. I
vividly remember thinking to myself that this part of the dream was very
repetitive and why wouldn’t my mind just switch to a more interesting part.
Deep in the third night I was struggling to maintain my grip on reality.
Finally, I got signs that I was close to Pak
Kung Au, the valley between Lantau Peak and Sunset Peak, and then I was down,
having taken more than two hours to do what I could normally comfortably do in
one. It was approaching 5am. I carefully crossed the road, and walked up the
steps to the Pagoda just off the road. Back in October I had spent all night
here working on a checkpoint for the popular Moontrekker race, so I felt I was
in familiar territory. That night, however, I had slept well the previous two.
The trail up Sunset Peak is not as steep but
the elevation gain is similar. Again, I was quickly overtaken by mist, and a
similar mist pervaded my mind. Stairs again seemed to be growing organically
through the mist, and I was again gripped by fear that I would end up on the
wrong path. I also become obsessed with another detail. On Lantau I knew that I
was heading for the true peak, which was impossible to miss. On Sunset Peak,
however, the Lantau Trail does not climb to the peak, but instead levels off
about 100m lower and goes around the side. I started wondering if I would
obviously see the path when it levelled off, or would I somehow miss it and end
up climbing onward and then get completely lost? Once again, I was also
struggling to see familiarity in surroundings that appeared utterly unfamiliar.
I’d turn one direction and find myself up against scrub and rock, then turn the
other way and see a few stairs rising into the gloom. Each set of stairs seemed
completely independent of each other, rather than being in long sets as I
remembered them.
Physically, I was tired but still moving
reasonably well, if slowly. Mentally, it was agonizing. But I kept going,
hoping and hoping that eventually the steps would run out and the path would
level out and run across the side of the hill. And while this seemed like it
would never happen, all of a sudden, instead of chasing new steps rising out of
the gloom, the path did indeed, level off. The only problem was, it again
seemed entirely unfamiliar. This didn’t appear to look like what normally
happened to the path at this point. Was I on the right sideways traverse? Or
had I unexpectedly encountered another path? Was I even going in the right
direction? Once again I was saved by technology. On my phone I was able to see
that despite nothing looking like it should, I was indeed on the right path,
and I could also see where the next marker post should be. Stopping every few
minutes to check, I miraculously seemed to be on the right path. But still
things didn’t make sense. The path that was traversing the hill should take me
to a sweeping curved path that overlooked a bunch of old stone huts sheltering
below the summit of Sunset Peak. The path should then take me through the
middle of them. However, although I found myself in an area that looked a bit
like where the huts should be, I wasn’t seeing them. Had they been removed? Was
I in fact in the wrong place? Again nothing looked like it should. My phone was
also pinging with notifications. I could see that friends were tweeting about
me being high up on a hill and needing to get down in a few hours to beat the
cutoff. It was the first time I considered the question of whether I’d actually
finish in time. But despite my muddled state, I was still fairly sure that I
had a time cushion, and that I shouldn’t stress about time unduly. My crew was
also texting me to see where I was at. My tracker was not being picked up and
no-one could see where I was. At 5.38am I texted “Getting to the top of sunset.
Foggy so pain in the ass.”
Then I came across an artifact that lifted my
spirits; lying on the ground was a sign, pointing in the direction I’d come to
Pak Kung Au, and in the direction I was going to Nam Shan. Nam Shan was only
2.5km from Mui Wo, my destination. It turned out that the path branched out and
I was running down to one side of the huts. Suddenly they appeared in front of
me. A little lower I saw another sign I recognized pointing to Mui Wo via Nam
Shan, so I texted “OK I’m 6.25km from Mui Wo – at the huts.” Finally, I felt
like I was heading in the right direction. A glimmer of familiarity was shining
through.
Of course, I was not out of the woods yet. The
path was rocky and I was less than stable on my feet. It continued to be slow
going. Light slowly dawned through the mist so I was able to switch off my
headlamp. I continued to pass in and out of a dreamlike state and once again
was hallucinating villages and streets that I was walking through when in fact
I was by myself on the side of a hill. At one stage the path I was following
seemed to completely stop and it took some time to work out that I had followed some stones in the wrong direction. In my normal state it would have been obvious but now it was all very confusing. But down and down and down I went, and as
the light got brighter on my fourth morning without sleep, I began to get
better recognition of the path high above Pui O, and had greater confidence in
where I was going.
As I started descending into Nam Shan, a woman
came past and asked if I was with 4 Trails. When I said I was (which I’m sure
was pretty obvious given the state I was in) she was very happy and
enthusiastically told me I wasn’t far from the end. I knew this but it was also
a huge relief and I was very grateful. It looked like I was actually going to
complete this beast of an event. A little further down, shortly before getting to
Nam Shan, I took stock of myself. I still had my headlamp on my head, and I
had a jacket tied around my waist. I also was carrying my hiking poles. I
decided to tidy things up before I got back to civilization, so put the
headlamp and jacket into the bag and then once I hit the road at Nam Shan put
the poles in the bag as well. I was now walking down the road to Mui Wo, which
is 2.5km long. This was going to happen. The green postbox, and my family, were
waiting for me.
But of course, after 71 hours, nothing is easy.
I suddenly realized that the pain I’d had in the back of my neck had
transformed into something different. To my amazement, I noticed that I
couldn’t lift my head properly. It was bent to my left side, and I couldn’t get
it straight. This was just great. I’ve spent three days musing on how I’d feel
when I got to run and kiss the green postbox and now I’m barely going to get
there. Plus my family is going to wonder what the hell is going on. And is this
a temporary affliction or will it somehow be a permanent memento of HK4TUC? I
hiked on, trying to relax my neck and see if it would come right, but to no
avail. I texted Sasha and told her I was almost there. I thought about
mentioning the neck, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. She’ll see it soon
enough, I figured.
Then, I heard footsteps. Hallucination? I
turned and there, beside me, for the first time in almost 72 hours, was Abi Shunmugam.
Abi was as surprised to see me as I was him. On the one hand, I had not
succeeded in finishing before him. But on the other, my spirits were suddenly
lifted again. What could be better than finishing an event of this magnitude
than to do so with another comrade? “Let’s finish together,” I said. He
completely agreed. (Of course, in my state, if he’d wanted to finish a minute
or two before me he could have out-run me with ease).
So we ran down the hill into town, as I
explained to him that I was actually feeling pretty good but that my head was
locked in this strange position. As we came down the final hill, we started to
hear Andre’s cowbell being rung to bring us home. Suddenly Sasha and the kids
were there too. Abi helped me navigate the tight footpath down to the
roundabout, and then with my family we ran from the corner the few hundred
metres to the ferry pier. And there, in front of it, was a green post-box. Abi
graciously told me to go first; I somewhat ungraciously agreed. I threw my arms
around it, rested my head for a second, and then kissed it. I’d done it. 71
hours and 51 minutes after leaving Tuen Mun to start the Maclehose Trail, I
finished the Lantau Trail in Mui Wo. I had run 298km and was a survivor of the
2018 Hong Kong Four Trails Ultra Challenge.
 |
| First give it a hug... Credit: Patchanida Pongsubkarun (used with permission) |
 |
| ... Then give it a kiss. Credit: Lloyd Belcher (used with permission) |
 |
| After three days on the trail, time for a shower. Credit: Patchanida Pongsubkarun (used with permission) |
 |
| While Sasha checks if my neck is OK, Abi nonchalantly shows off his six-pack. Thanks for getting me to the end, Abi! Credit: Patchanida Pongsubkarun (used with permission) |
POSTSCRIPT
 |
| A few hours later, after a sleep, I'm back in the land of the living (and conscious). Note the champagne bottles from other finishers/ survivors. Credit: Sasha Haldane (used with permission) |
Recovery was fairly straightforward. I had to
go to work the next day for a presentation by senior management but was able to
take the following day off. There was plenty of eating and lots of sleeping. My
face broke out in spots from the stress of everything my body had been under, and
my tongue was very sensitive for several days, as if the amount of sports drink
and sugar that it had processed had given it some sort of mild chemical burn.
Still, weird things like these happen in ultras. My basic body integrity seems
fine, with no injuries and only relatively mild muscular tiredness for a few
days.
I’m not sure if I’ll run that far again, and I
can’t see myself attempting HK4TUC again in the future. To do something so
massive, especially at my age, you need to be very single-minded and focused.
It has a cost on family relationships, to be sure. But at the same time, I am
absolutely satisfied that I was able to complete the challenge. From the 28 of
us that started, two “finished,” five “survived,” and one more came in to huge
cheers outside the 75 hour limit. I held some dreams about trying to aim for 60
hours but these were never terribly realistic and certainly weren’t achievable after
the heat of the first day. To be a survivor in under 72 hours is incredibly
rewarding and will be one of the proudest achievements on my modest running CV.
When I wrote my letter of application to Andre
in July, I said that one of my motivations was that I thought I was pretty
stubborn, but wanted to see if that was true. Turns out, it is.
 |
| A week later: Feeling recovered and celebrating my birthday with a bottle of Moet and a green postbox. Credit: Palani Mohan (used with permission) |
Thanks to my family, particularly Sasha, Max,
and Alyssa; my amazing crew, John and Pirate; my coach, Scotty Hawker (Mile27);
Rory and Nicole for help with planning; Andre, Paper, Lloyd, Anya, and other
members of the HK4TUC family; my fellow “competitors” (not that it’s a race),
who were all incredibly supportive of each other and made the event so
memorable, and in particular the finishers (Salomon and Phairat) and my fellow survivors (Meredith, Abi, Ming-Chu, and Ho Fai) plus Nicole, who were all inspirational; and all my family and friends who became consumed with the challenge
and who were so supportive on social media during the event.
And as for what's next? In early December, I had the incredible good luck to have my ticket selected once again from the lottery for the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run. So now I have the chance to go back in June 2018 and do it all over again. A few weeks to recover from Four Trails and then it's time to get back into training!
And as for what's next? In early December, I had the incredible good luck to have my ticket selected once again from the lottery for the Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run. So now I have the chance to go back in June 2018 and do it all over again. A few weeks to recover from Four Trails and then it's time to get back into training!
