On race day, as the drizzle greeted us before the race start at 9 AM sharp, the rugged trails of the TransLantau 100 transformed into a slightly slippery playground, especially on the downhills. It was an apt start for the 100-kilometer Lantau Trail, which boasts a gruelling 5,000 meters of elevation gain—a concoction of irregular stone steps, rocky slopes, and boardwalks. By the first climb, my poles had already saved me from countless slips, although they couldn’t prevent a few tumbles that left me slightly numb on my backside. Nevertheless, they proved invaluable, absorbing the knee-crushing impact on descents.
The narrow, rocky, and mostly uneven paths meandered through some of Hong Kong’s most breathtaking landscapes. The sight of runners snaking up Phoenix Mountain, also known as Lantau Peak, was both humbling and awe-inspiring. However, every step demanded vigilance, as a single misstep could send you sliding down the steep slopes.
Checkpoint support was a much-needed source of warmth and energy. Schoolchildren cheered us on with infectious enthusiasm, while the “funny uncles and aunties” served up encouragement alongside hearty sustenance: cup noodles, hot porridge, packet chicken breast, and steaming bowls of miso soup with macaroni pasta. These small moments of care made the relentless challenge so much more enjoyable.
By 6 PM, darkness crept in, and so did exhaustion. My legs and quads screamed at every stone and step. Reaching Tai O and reuniting with my drop bag felt like a blessing. I layered up extra, slipping into a rain jacket to brace against the intensifying wind and drizzle. Tai O’s picturesque fishing village offered a fleeting moment of calm—until the trail led past a cemetery under the pitch-black sky. Alone, trying not to think about eerie old HK movies Chinese Zombie thoughts, I trudged on.
Then came the night’s true trial: Stormy Misery. As the No. 3 typhoon signal brought brutal crosswinds, I found myself battling more than just the elements. The UTMB signage flapped violently, some blown away. I zipped my rain jacket up like Kenny from South Park, trying to get as much sustenance and warmth into my body, shivering as cold rain soaked me through. Stopping wasn’t an option; stiffening muscles would stop me if I dared sit too long. At Ngong Ping, the temptation to quit was strong, but the thought of the finish line kept me grinding forward.
The final stretch was a test of will—Sunset Peak’s muddy, rain-slicked paths, and Tiger Head’s ultra-technical descent to Mui Wo. With only six feet of visibility in the rain and darkness, each step felt like navigating the edge of disaster. Mud, wind, and exhaustion combined cruelly, yet somehow, I pushed through.
Crossing the finish line brought a wave of relief and disbelief. Out of 376 runners who completed the race, about 30% had DNFed, underscoring just how brutal the conditions were. To my surprise, my pacing strategy paid off—I secured a podium finish in age group.
During the race, I swore I’d never put myself through such torment again. Yet, here I am, reflecting on the journey with a smile. The memories—of the trail, the camaraderie, and the sheer beauty of the world around me—have left an indelible mark.
Could I do better? Definitely. Because that’s the magic of these challenges—they remind us of our limits, then dare us to exceed them.
Hong Kong’s trails offer not just a race, but an unforgettable adventure. For any trail runner, it’s an experience that challenges and rewards in equal measure. Thank you Hong Kong!
Yuen Thow
2024 Translantau Finisher
