A Write-up on the Pirin Ultra 100 (Hardrock Qualifier)

I came across this ultra searching for qualifying races for the famous (infamous?) Hardrock 100 and, in the US, these tend to be expensive and sell out quickly.

On the list of races was one this one, the Pirin Ultra 100. This is a race with 33,000ft ascent/descent (Link to Map) (there is also a 66k, 38k, and 25k, all with some insane vertical gain) and caught my attention. Why not take the opportunity to travel to a foreign land and run a race that would likely be even more memorable and cost less than running one in the US (the race cost about $100, my airBNB was $19/night for a condo at the base of the mountains, the flight was $545, and food was cheap as hell)?

This quickly evolved quickly into the justification for an entire trip (see also my write up on the Rila National Park, Pirin National Park (Bansko), and Running Mount Olympus, Greece).

First, some thoughts and observations about Bulgaria (later, I will add more about the race). It was an interesting place. The mountains were an immensely pleasant surprise, the prices were amazingly low, and the weather was great. However, the people; that was a mixed bag. The males, in particular, tended to be very stereotypically “Eastern European”, meaning serious, dour, brooding, etc… But, there was the pleasant surprise when occasionally I would come across a happy-go-lucky, “life is wonderful”, male Bulgarian. The women tended to be a little lighter and more positive than the men (the place I stayed outside of Rila (my AirBNB) was hosted by two of the most lovely people (Anna and George) I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with).

Bansko and the Pirin National Park

I arrived in Bansko a few days prior to the race. The town is a resort town (mostly just for skiing) located right at the base of the mountains at an elevation of about 3000ft. Bansko is becoming quite well-known for being a hub for digital nomads (if you are interested in or able to work remotely) and has a few different co-working spaces.

I stayed at a condo (LINK) with trails a 5-minute walk away and downtown about a 10-minute walk. Many places were not open in the summer, particularly further away from downtown and closer to the mountains, but there were sufficient restaurants and grocery stores for me to meet my needs. Even being plant-based there was not an issue and yielded some phenomenal food.

The national park lies to the southwest of town. The mountains here are jagged and scuplted. They are much different from the peaks to the north that I saw in Rila. This range reminded me of the Sangre de Christo mountains in Colorado. The park is big enough to contain the 100 mile race without covering much of the same terrain. It is essentially a big figure-eight.

The Race

There are two different aspects to any race; the course and how the race is managed. I will discuss both here.

Leading up to the race, I had reached out to the race-director to ask about fueling at the aid stations. There was nothing on the website nor in any runner information I received. I was interested to know how much I might be able to take advantage of the aid stations for my fueling and the types of fluids they might have. I was fine with the concept of sparse offerings (it was only $100) but it was good to know what I was going to be dealing with. The response? Crickets. I reached out a second time, closer to the race. The same response. My general impression of the race-director was not a positive one and generally fit my impression of males in Bulgaria. However, I have nothing but gratitude and respect for him putting together this race. It is one-of-a-kind. But, good to know what to expect coming in (I’ll get to the aid stations in the race description).

The race starts shortly before dawn in the “old city” and follows its way up through town for about 1.5 miles before the road enters the forest. The route quickly moves off the paved road onto trail before connecting with, and following a dirt road higher.

About 7 miles in is the first aid station, by the Vihren Hut. Sparse is a good word (compared to what I am used to). Just some soda and minor snacks. Again, not a problem, but good to know before doing this race. Its good to be mostly self-sufficient (there are more extensive aid stations elsewhere).

This is where the real climbing starts. There is a 2000ft climb in fewer than 2 miles. There were a good number of other people out there climbing this route, presumably to summit Vihren, the highest peak in the park and the second highest in Bulgaria. The route hits a saddle and where the trail to Vihren goes off to the right. I don’t think I saw a hiker after this point.

At the saddle, the race drops down into a bowl with a gorgeous lake. This stretch is perfect given the natural beauty and the fact that you (should be) still feeling fresh and warmed up after the climb.

The route drops from this point, through the drainage/valley, eventually reaching treeline. The trails below treeline, in all of Bulgaria, were some of my favorite anywhere. I don’t know what it was but they were just lovely. Above treeline, less so. However, here in Pirin there wasn’t the grazing issue that there was elsewhere, so the terrain wasn’t as tore up and you didn’t have the flies and smell you might have in Rila.

The route eventually becomes a dirt road that follows a river down to the next aid station, which is the only aid station with drop bags. You hit this one twice; at mile 16 and 52 (those last 48… phewww). This aid station also felt a bit sparse and disorganized (few people who seemed generally disinterested. Again, not a critique. Just an acknowledgment of it being different from what one might be used to from US races. Manage expectations).

After this point, there is another climb up to the ridgeline. I remember really struggling with one. It is steep and I was at elevation and no longer feeling so fresh. I had not eaten (or likely drank) enough and it just ground me down.

After the ridge, and the lovely view from the top, the trail drops and drops and eventually gets back into the forest for a delightful stretch to the third aid station. This aid station was, by far, my favorite. The women manning the aid station were super helpful, the food options were great, and it is where I learned to love lutenitsa (the tomato sauce type spread. It is fantastic!)

I had been running with a Bulgarian name Luzan since before the first aid station. He and I (mostly I) took my time at this aid station to regroup, refuel, rehydrate and come back to life after the last climb. We knew the crux of the race was this next section and the sun would set before we reached the next aid station.

Pirin Peak

The distance between AS 3 and AS 4 is only 13 miles (~20 kms). However, the cutoff difference between these two is 10 hours, which I thought was insane. It was not, but the route was.

Leaving aid station 3 there is climbing along a road, then onto trail, then above treeline, then more… ABC. “always be climbing”. The mantra of the race. However, the climb either wasn’t that severe or I really did bounce back well after the last AS. At about 27 miles in the route takes a sharp left and climbs steeply up to a lake and from there there is a steep, but short, climb up the the ridgeline. The stretch from AS3 to this point is about 3 miles, and is pretty smoothly and easily covered. I thought we were golden!!

The next 6 or 7 miles was by far the most challenging and slowest of my life, showing me why the cutoff difference was 10 hours along this 13 mile stretch.

On the ridgeline, there is a lot of up-and-down. Not a ton of elevation gain, but challenging terrain to navigate. Overgrown trail, boulders, challenges finding the trail. I kept thinking we must almost be there (Pirin Peak was the high point) but Luzan knew better. He had done this race before. It just kept dragging on. The sun went down, darkness came, and the fog rolled in. This did not help with the route finding. We’d have to stop, shine our headlamps around and hope to see one of the reflective race flags, navigate to that, and repeat. It wasn’t that hard, just insanely time-consuming and slow.

At some point, much later than either myself or Luzan would have predicted, we reached Pirin Peak. There was some hardy soul up there for the night (the wind was quite strong and it was very cold) supporting the race. I give that guy a lot of credit!

I thought we were golden at this point. We were still doing alright with time. We just needed to get moving. However, it wasn’t about to get any better.

The descent from this peak is down a rock slide. Doing this is never going to be quick but, at night in the fog on tired legs, it was particularly slow. I’ve never encountered anything like that during a race. The drop to treeline was over 1500ft in about 1 mile, on boulders and rock slide debris. This was frequently significant enough in scale to require us to sit and lower ourselves to the next rock. To cover the 6 miles between reaching the ridgeline, traversing the ridgeline to Pirin Peak, and descending to the treeline, it took us 6 hours.

Once back below the trees, movement picked up, but we were pretty wrecked. Any life I had gained from the last aid station had been bludgeoned out of me.

Luzan went ahead, as I changed out the batteries in my headlamp. The trail got smoother and I was able to get in some stumble-y running. The hope was to get to the next aid station and revive. The next 26 mile section was the most gentle of the course, consisting exclusively of forest road.

When I got to the aid station, Luzan was there and informed me he had dropped. He cited blister issues. I did my best to refuel, rest, and regroup. I headed back out, skeptical that I would be able to make all of the cutoffs to finish the race. My thought was that I shouldn’t have any trouble over the next 27 miles. From that point, I’d be back at my drop bag and would be able to make a push on the big climbs of the second half of the race. I wanted to see how my body would do on those climbs.

Things did not go according to plan, but that was all of my fault. This stretch should have been easy. Actually, it was easy, but about 5am, in the dark, I went off trail. It wasn’t even off trail, it was me taking the wrong road. I had no excuse for this but delusion. Everything was marked well. I had my GPS. I’ve never made such an egregious error during a race before. I think the fact that it was so simple made it easy to not think too much about. At some point I caught it and was a couple of miles off the route. Between that time lost and the time necessary to head back, I knew I likely lost whatever buffer I had to make the next cutoff. This was sealed when I made yet another error, though not as costly.

Eventually, I made my way to the aid station with the drop bags. Pulled from the race after 60 miles (52 actual course miles. That 8 extra miles killed me).

Thoughts…

I think this is a wildly unique event. This may be a Hardrock qualifier but I would like to see the times of people who have run both; I would bet they took longer to complete this one. Hardrock has the altitude, no doubt, and a ton of climbing. But, it wasn’t the climbing that made this so hard; it was the terrain. There is a lot of off-trail stuff, route finding, and simply challenging to navigate trail. The climbs and descents are steeper than what you find in the US, even in Colorado (I lived there for 15 years). The winner of the race took almost 30 hrs. That’s crazy!!

For anyone who wants an event that is like taking a very challenging 100 and pushing it a couple of steps towards the Barkleys, this is for you. However, if you prefer a catered 100 with well-defined trails and significant spreads at all of the ample aid stations, this is not for you.

This is a bare-basics, tough-as-nails, under-the-radar race that deserves more attention than it seems to have gotten up until now. My descriptions are either going to turn you off or intrigue you. I think you should follow your gut with that one.

As with any of my writings, feel free to reach out with questions. I am happy to help in whatever way I can.