And now my friends, it’s time for the story of the best race you’ve never heard of. It’s also the best race you, alas, will never be able to run. This is the Humboldt Hundred: a humble 100k race for two in honor of a state park centennial.
The Humboldt Hundred had all the makings of a classic ultra. Because of the highs and despite the lows, we did it! And it was amazing.
Humboldt Redwoods State Park is one of our favorite places to play. One of a network of pretty parks showcasing the splendor of the sequoia tree, this one features both old-growth forests and wild, open spaces. Old logging roads that range over the hills have been turned into multi-use trails for pedestrians, mountain bikers and horse riders. Humboldt Redwoods has four campgrounds and boasts over a hundred miles of trail.
Our story with this park began in May 2020, when we first ran Grasshopper Peak, the highest point in both the park and county. That run led to a dozen others, and we returned to this park time and time again for adventures. I even had the chance to work in this park later in 2021!
As we explored more and more of the state park’s numerous multiuse trails, it became clear that this was an ideal setting for an ultra. First, we just joked about it. But soon, it was more than that: an idea was taking root. By late 2020, we were actively discussing routes. If there were to be an ultra, what would be the best course? Was there a way to make 50k or more in trails with no overlap?
In March 2021, we did a run I affectionately called the Spring Marathon of Happiness: 42+ kilometers of fun up and over Grasshopper Peak and all around its base. If we were able to rack up this distance almost without trying, there was no doubt we could string together more trails into a 50k…or more! It was during this particular run that the Humboldt Hundred started to become real.
Over the next few months, I examined trail maps of Humboldt Redwoods and began to sketch out a course for a 100k. The park’s trail network is vast, and it would be easy to rack up this distance with very little overlap if we ran loops from one central location: Albee Creek Campground.
In short order, I booked us a campsite and moved on to planning our snacks. The more I worked on this project, the more our Humboldt Hundred seemed like a real race! I leaned into that, deciding to make t-shirts, print brochures and prepare prizes.
Planning this event had me positively giddy with purpose and excitement. I shared some of the details with Kent, but not all, in order to save some surprises for the event. With so much to do, June 1st – our scheduled race day – came up quickly!
The afternoon before the race, we checked into our campsite and got a bear box set up as our aid station. I gave a brief address as race director, and asked Kent to say a few words as course director. We examined our goodie bags, then turned in early to catch a few hours of sleep before the start.
Of course, just like before an organized event, we actually slept very little. We lay side-by-side, sweating up the tent. We dozed fitfully until it was finally dark outside. And then I lay in the blackness pondering our preparedness to run through the night in this wild area.
We’d made a mental map of what it would take to avoid quitting no matter what. But now, I had the opportunity to dwell on the risks at length: my mind plumbing the possibilities. After a few restless hours of this, I had myself convinced we were, at best, woefully underprepared and at worst, about to take on a foolhardy mission. Whether or not my worries were valid, it was nearly time to begin!
Humboldt Hundred: My very own, very rad race
The Look Prairie loop
We got up shortly before 12:00 am, and hurried to get ready. At the stroke of midnight, we took off into the darkness. There was no music and no fireworks at the start of the Humboldt Hundred – but we had just as many butterflies as if there had been! Kent kissed me, and I whispered ‘go time’ loud enough for our ears only.
The only fanfare accompanying our departure was the tinkling of our ‘bear bells’ – souvenirs from our first ultra five years before. We tried to tiptoe quietly past sleeping campers on our way to the Homestead trail, but we couldn’t help but laugh imagining what they would think if they did see us.
We were saved from starting out too fast by a quick uphill (and perhaps by the lack of the usual press of other participants!). Our first loop took us up Look Prairie: a long but runnable climb.
This is a beautiful trail that dips in and out of the forest, with wide open, natural prairie in between the trees. At least, that’s what it is like by day. By night, our vision was limited to the halos cast by our headlamps.
It was a little spooky. Kent’s concern was running into one of the bears or cougars that are oft seen in this park. I, meanwhile, was more worried about running into a person. A ranger might issue a cease-and-desist, and I was even less keen on encountering one of the territorial, weed-growing locals.
Luckily, all the individuals we encountered were benign. High in the forest, I locked eyes with an owl in the red glow of my headlamp. We heard shuffling in the undergrowth, and spotted a handful of deer.
We’d been thinking so much about the dark and the dangers, that I’d scarcely registered just how hot it was outside. The air felt thick and still – unusual for Humboldt county, even in summer. It had been hot in our tent earlier in the evening, and remained sweltering. We were both soaked with sweat, and my heartrate remained higher than usual throughout the climb.
In the gaps between the trees, we had an extended look into the star-spangled sky above us. Truly beautiful to behold: the air was so clear and still that all the stars were twinkling. No moon – yet.
We felt accomplished when we reached the ridge, but we still had a long way to go before dawn. Our route ran along Peavine Ridge Road for the next three miles. This stretch was slightly cooler, in reach of some of the ocean breezes from the west. Although still on high alert for unusual sights and sounds, we relaxed into our run up here.
Running down Thornton, though, was a different story. It was exciting from the moment we turned left and began to descend. A moving carpet of caterpillars completely covered the narrow, single-track trail! We edged around them, only to encounter several more patches like this. Who knew they were nocturnal?
There are a few delightful stretches of trail with sweeping views toward Grasshopper. These are made even more delightful by being perched above a steep meadow. Here we were once again greeted by a few peaceful deer, our companions in the night. The moon was now rising high above the opposite ridge, making for splendid scenery.
However, I was kind of on my own in appreciating the beauty of the night. Kent had begun to complain of nausea, and sure enough, began to vomit on the downhill. As always, he was an incredible trooper about this. I wanted to stop and give him a moment, but he kept pushing us onwards, even as he threw up on the run!
We were delighted to spot our campsite again at the bottom of the trail. It had taken us around three and a half hours to cover 26 kilometers in the first loop of Humboldt Hundred: and already the race had proved to be very exciting indeed!
Aid station stop #1
We were jubilant about having already completed one of our loops: well before dawn and ahead of schedule! Kent, to his continued credit, never mentioned quitting. He was not in great shape, but lucid enough to shake the debris out of his shoes and refill his water reservoir.
I buzzed around like a hummingbird, never once sitting down. I replenished our supply of electrolytes and handed out breakfast sandwiches. I’m not sure exactly how this took all of 18 minutes, but it did. When I eventually looked down at my watch and saw the time, I was shocked! We had to get going to stay on schedule!
The long loop
We started our second loop strong! Sandwiches in hand and bells lightly tinkling, we ran away from our camp once more. After crossing Mattole Road, it was time for our biggest climb – over seven miles of uphill! Go, go Grasshopper!
The night had finally cooled off, and I felt chilly for the first time. But it was perfect timing to be cold: we had a big challenge ahead!
To our great surprise, a sign at the gate informed us that our Humboldt Hundred was not the only race taking place this weekend. We learned about a 10.5 miler and 30k race scheduled for the following day! It would have been tempting, if we weren’t already deep in our own 100k run.
The sky was softening into twilight by the time we reached the split with Squaw Creek Ridge Trail. The moon was hidden behind the forest to the west, and there were fewer stars visible through the gaps in the canopy. Dawn was approaching, and quickly!
We didn’t speak so much on this climb, being much more comfortable with the dark at the approach of dawn. The last time we’d run up this gravel road, I’d been so proud of holding a steady pace. This time, though, we were 30k in – and I hiked the hard parts. And I was not alone: Kent, for lack of calorie intake, was also slower than usual.
I’d been so certain that we would make sunrise up top with time to spare. But I was wrong. We finally arrived on top, after what seemed like an age of switchbacks, around 30 minutes post-sunrise. Luckily, it was still stupendous. Sweeping views, as well as a snack smash, restored me to good spirits. The last time we’d been here, it was snowing! During the Humboldt Hundred, Grasshopper Peak boasted a classic summertime scene.
En route downhill, we stopped to use the best outhouse in creation: super conveniently tucked right below the peak. However, it was only after using said outhouse that I realized that, among my many preparations for this race, I had neglected to refill the tissues in our backpacks. The last roll in the outhouse had been long since used up.
Plan B was using ancient passport photocopies that we still carried, having once been required for a race. Although this is a traditional method of toiletry, modern paper is shiny and thus pretty poor for these purposes. We were annoyed – but we could also see the hilarity of our plight.
This whole ordeal added a stop of 13 minutes to our day: something I know because I accidentally made a lap rather than stopping the watch!
Finally able to move on, we zipped downhill on the Grasshopper Peak Trail – a personal favorite for its rugged remoteness. There’s a prairie switchback to start, then the route plunges deep into the forest on the otherwise inaccessible backside of the mountain. Wildflowers in the undergrowth were in full bloom during the Humboldt Hundred, and it was truly a pleasure to be on this particular trail on this particular morning.
Turns out, we were not the only ones who thought so! Coming around a bend at full speed, I startled a bear! I looked right into its face as I slammed on the brakes. By the time I could open my mouth to call Kent to a halt, the bear had bolted. It disappeared into the bushes without a trace. My heart was pounding, but I also felt a bit sorry for the bear: it must have been terrifying for it, too. Imagine being startled by a big, smelly being hurtling down into your brunch spot!
This is, after all, bear county – and we’re just passing through. With the summer bridges across the Eel River still out, I strongly suspected the last humans to use this trail were…the two of us, two months ago.
The reason I love this section is precisely because of how wild and quiet it is. At least, it is usually quiet. It so happened that today we could hear a racket of interminable chainsaw noise. Maybe it was trail work: there was a lot of windthrow on this trail! But we did not run into anyone, nor figure out where the noise was coming from.
Turning onto the River Trail, we began the longest section of our race without inflection points. At this time of year, it would be another 10 miles around the mountain before we would reach any other trail or public access. But we were not alone out there: there were rough skinned newts and Pacific banana slugs sharing our trail!
This is one of Humboldt Redwood State Park’s – and Humboldt Hundred’s – best trails. It’s quiet, remote and seldom-traveled. It’s not backcountry: it’s right in the heart of the old redwood growth alongside the river! After the installation of summer bridges, it gets a little more traffic – but it’s length acts as s deterrent for more casual hikers. Perhaps as a result, the ecosystem is intact and healthy here, and it’s almost too beautiful a place to run quickly through.
I was lingering over meadows of sorrel and colorful irises while Kent hurried us along. He was trying to push through his pain, but we were slowing down. I was suddenly feeling a little less carefree and casual as a sharp pain in my right knee caused me to stop every few dozen steps. As for Kent, he reported being too hot, and was still struggling to catch up on nutrition and hydration after his nighttime nausea.
We were cheered by the sight of our secret garden. It’s this one absolutely stunning area right at the junction of two streams. It even brought out the best in Kent, who waxed poetic about how he’d once loved dinosaur ferns and now admired sorrel best of all.
Only moments after stopping at this spot, though, we resumed the struggle. We’d reached a trail sign that informed us that we had further to go than we thought. This being our favorite trail, you’d think that wouldn’t be so bad. But we were already a bit banged up – and we were running out of fuel and hydration.
I’d felt extra hungry earlier, and had already eaten up my reserve energy bar. Kent was nearly out of water. Supplies were slim, and we still had a long way to go back to our campsite. I shook my knee out. Kent sat on a downed tree. It felt a little dire, and the pressure was strong to move on, and to do so quickly.
Luckily, the remainder of our route was beautiful, and despite our struggles, we still had the capacity to enjoy the plunge into an amazingly intact patch of old-growth, where tall trees towered over us. We kept moving – the Humboldt Hundred continued!
Eventually, we crossed over the permanent bridge to reach Bull Creek Flats Trail – and run a brand new part of the northern section. My knee was increasingly sore, but Kent was increasingly relentless. He drove me on ahead of him. At last, we caught sight of our camp as we ran in for a strong finish.
We’d covered another 35 kilometers in just over seven hours – a little longer than we’d planned to be out, but we were still pleased with our progress. We were even more eager for a bit of a break!
Aid station stop #2
This one takes the cake for longest aid station stop ever, I think – possibly even beating out my accidental nap at Seoul 100k! How is it even possible to spend an hour in aid? I don’t know, but somehow we managed it.
First, I hobbled over to the bear box and got out our fuel essentials, the first aid kit and our lovely lunch box. We sat on the tarp we’d laid out for this purpose – such sweet relief to sit! We were meant to be quickly refilling our packs, but we dallied, drinking tiny cherry cokes and snacking on dill pickle chips. This stop may have been way too long, but it was definitely delicious!
We also swapped socks! Elites often change their shoes, so maybe this refresher would prove to be a game changer for us. It was also crucial to do a quick tick check as we wiped down our legs and feet.
There was no napping: just eating and a nice sit. Before we headed out again, Kent preemptively took two painkillers. As for me, I strapped myself into a knee brace and hoped for the best on the next leg of the Humboldt Hundred.
The new loop: Peavine to Orchard
Loop #3 began with a midday climb of Thornton Trail: the same trail we’d descended in the wee hours of the morning, about eight hours earlier. Luckily, this trail is mostly forested, so we had a bit of shade. While Kent cursed the heat, I worried we’d encounter his piles of puke from earlier. Thankfully, we did not.
And I soon had my own woes to worry about! I’d put a brace on my right knee, which had bothered me on our second loop. However, it felt just fine on our ascent, and instead my left knee clicked away furiously at every step. I stopped to switch the brace, but couldn’t find a gear greater than a walk. It was frustrating, because Kent had found his second wind and it was me holding us back. At this pace, we’d be looking at a climb alone of three or more hours!
All we could do was take it one step at a time, knowing that an ultra is long enough for a complete turnaround to take place. In the meantime, I focused on the art of nature nearby. There was a stand of trees whose trunks had been completely coded by sapsuckers. A little bird fluttered across our path in an attempt to distract us from her clutch of even tinier chicks right at the trail’s edge. Humboldt Hundred had a hard course, but it sure was beautiful!
After a while, I became determined to do better, and Thornton Trail graciously leveled out somewhat to allow me to do my worst. I went from a sluggish but determined march to an ugly jog in my bid to get our average pace down to 15 minutes per kilometer.
Having done this, things only got better from there. Regaining the ridge, both Kent and I felt excited to explore the next four miles of Peavine Road that were brand new to us! I was happy that the route continued to ascend, now that I’d found my uphill groove again!
The trouble began when the trail started going downhill again. And once it got started, it went downhill a lot – almost continuously! ‘This is supposed to be the easy part,’ I whined aloud. My right knee was back on the rebellion, and rejected the notion of carrying me down. I switched the brace again and slumped on.
Once again, we were walking. Kent didn’t say much, but he held my hand sometimes. I knew he understood. In fact, later on, he said it reminded him of what happened to him at Trans Jeju when his knee began inexplicably acting up.
Eventually, I was able to find a bumpy, uneven running gait that took the brunt of the impact on my left side. We began to make forward progress through mixed conifer forest with occasional redwoods. Suddenly, our trail took a turn for the different!
We’d been on the south side of the ridge at every point along Peavine Ridge Road. Now, we were unexpectedly on the north – and reaping the rewards. A cool breeze blew strongly, and it was just what we needed. The road broadened, and changed from duff-covered dirt to gravel. I fully expected to see someone else on the trail on this fine afternoon, but we saw not a soul.
Peavine plunged downward, returning to the south side of the ridge and switchbacking towards the junction with Orchard Trail. And from there, we kept going down. I continued to feel rough, but I picked up my pace on the smooth singletrack descent. There was lots 50 see here as well, including a ringnecked snake and black frogs! To my surprise, I retained the lead as we wound our way downhill.
We had a brief sit (bliss!) at Cuneo Camp. Before leaving, Kent led us to a bathroom where we washed our hands (so incredibly refreshing!) and moistened our hats for the next leg across the sunny, open prairie.
West Homestead Trail is a bit of a grab bag, as far as terrain is concerned. The start on the side of a bluff reminded me of Inje’s familiar dullegil. It crossed a few stretches of hot grassland, inhabited by huge snakes! Most noteably, there were also half a dozen river crossings of various widths and difficulties. A few were hoppable on boulders or fallen logs, but for others, we removed our shoes and waded.
At long last – six hours and a handful of minutes after departure – we closed our third loop and returned to our campsite checkpoint!
Aid station stop #3
We collapsed into our camp chairs for a quick dinner and resupply. Although not quite as long as our lunch stop, this break, too, was longer than intended. Not least because we had important decisions to make about our Humboldt Hundred.
Kent and I were both a little beat up, but somehow we’d already covered 88 kilometers – more than my original estimate up to this point. The next loop we had planned would give us an additional 35 kilometers – and a whole lot more verticality that would take us deep into the next night. Did we need to do that – or could we simply nab our 100k?
It was a tough call. We wanted to stay true to our original Humboldt Hundred design, but we didn’t want it to be at any cost. The heat of the day had taken a toll on Kent, and I was knee-deep in an inexplicable coup. I’d had this knee-click for months, and it was mild – until it wasn’t. I didn’t want to cause long-term damage to my body if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.
We examined the map. There was a way to chase 12 kilometers – partially on a trail we hadn’t tread yet. And to Kent’s especial relief, it was a flatter route that would avoid us running all night again. We decided to make the change.
But in our current condition, we weren’t sure exactly how long 12k would take us, and we were worried about the watch holding up. I really wanted our 100k to be all on one GPX file, but we also didn’t want to risk the watch dying on us altogether, so close to completion. We decided to charge it, saving the file and starting another for our last loop.
We packed out heavily, in case of struggle or any surprised on the trail head. It was dusk, and it was time to go again: the Humboldt Hundred was not finished yet!
The last one
I’d made dire predictions about how long this last stretch – our 12k out-and-back – would take us. But that’s not how things played out. I don’t know if it was the painkillers I’d reluctantly swallowed at the aid station, the flatter terrain or the finish line being truly within our grasp now, but I went out fast.
On Homestead Trail again, heading east, we passed the turnoff for Look Prairie and joked about doing a repeat lap and maybe working towards a 200k. Instead, we wisely crossed the road and ran Bull Creek Flats Trail South – another new route for us!
We’d chosen this trail based on ease of access from our campsite, relative flatness and potential business. Kent had said he didn’t relish doing any more freaky deeky solo night running, looking for eyes and prickling at every sound in the bush. But of course, that’s exactly what we were doing – because there was no one else out and about in the gathering gloom.
There are sections of this trail that are right on Mattole Road, which wasn’t our favorite thing, considering how quickly the night was approaching and how similarly speedily the locals drive. But other stretches of this trail were along the river, under massive old-growth trees.
Amazing as this was, I couldn’t help but keep my eye on my watch. We’d planned to turn around at kilometer six exactly, so I had to note when that was. But around four kilometers in, I began to lose my marbles.
It was Kent now keeping up a steady stream of one-sided conversation. I would reply, only to moments later wonder if I actually had or if I’d made any sense. My mind was not laying in any new memories, and it was a little alarming. I felt really loopy: like the only thing I could do was run and not think. I’m grateful the trail underfoot was so straightforward, leaving me little room for error.
We thought we might make it all the way to Rockerfeller Forest, and, if we did, the plan was to run back on the south side of the river, making a fourth loop. But we reached our six kilometers somewhere in the middle of the trail, so we just turned around and went back the way we came.
This was definitely for the best: I was seeing things, and almost led us off-trail following some glowing ribbons that may or may not have been there.
When we popped back out onto the road, a ranger truck happened to be doing a drive-by, and it slowed down to give us a long look. But it did not stop, so neither did we!
Crossing back over to Homestead, it was suddenly pitch black outside. This trail seemed to stretch to infinity and beyond – we must have been slowing down again. I looked at my watch: we’d already passed 12k, despite seemingly retracing our route. Were we lost?
The very thought was so dismaying that we dropped down into a walk. In our bonky state, we wondered if we’d gotten turned around or mixed up. But we were definitely heading west, so the only option was to continue for as long as it took.
Finally, we reached the road leading into Albee Creek Camp. At last, our headlights reflected off of Ravi’s taillights. Finally, we were done the Humbold Hundred!
The last lap was just under 13 kilometers in exactly 2 hours and 20 minutes. The entire event had taken us 21 hours and 51 minutes – 19 hours and 35 minutes of moving time.
Done and dusted
Literally, we went to bed dusty but happy after completing our Humboldt Hundred. We didn’t stretch or cook dinner or do anything besides collapse into our tent. We did manage to stuff our vests into the bear box and joked about never running ever again.
I thought it would feel amazing to lie down, but it was agony. Pain shot through my legs: my knees ached and my feet throbbed. I could not get comfortable no matter what I did, and lay wide awake long after Kent had fallen asleep.
I must have eventually succumbed, because the next thing I remember was the filtered sunlight of the next morning. Scenes of the redwoods appeared through the windows, and scenes from the race played through my mind. I was so grateful for where we were and what we’d just done!
We spent a lazy morning enjoying slightly cooler weather. After breakfast, an awards ceremony and a game of crib, we eventually got ourselves up for an easy stroll on a trail called the Kent loop!
Later, we also stopped by the visitor center where I filled out a volunteer application and we recounted our race adventures to the amply appreciative staff. At dusk, we lingered over a campfire instead of running out into the dark. We watched our resident skunk sneak out for evening foraging, and saw the stars come out again.
Kent and I both agreed that the Humboldt Hundred was perhaps our best race. It made June the greatest month of the year in 2021, and goes down in our history as one of our best ever experiences of any kind. The Humboldt Hundred was a one-time thing, just for the two of us, and it was simply wonderful.
