Heading into Daybreak Racing’s inaugural Cloud Cap event on Mt. Hood, I was admittedly nervous. My most recent trail race had been the Manuawili Trail Marathon in Hawaii just a few weeks earlier—a brutal, humbling slog of muggy heat, rough terrain, and multiple wipeouts that left me mentally and physically wrecked. Beautiful, yes. Encouraging? Not so much.
So, as I toed the line at Cloud Cap, I couldn’t help but wonder if history was about to repeat itself. Thankfully, a combination of perfect Oregon weather, spectacular trails, and Daybreak’s flawless organization gave me the kind of race day experience you dream about.
The Course
Cloud Cap starts and finishes at Cooper Spur Ski Area, tucked on Mt. Hood’s quieter north side. I’d only been in this area once before, just shy of a decade ago on a short excursion on the nearby Dog River Trail, and was eager to explore more. The race takes runners on a relentless climb of 2,600+ feet up to the historic Cloud Cap Inn, followed by a blazing 3-mile downhill finish.
The race wasted no time in reminding us it was a mountain event. The first mile shot us straight into a narrow singletrack climb—steep enough to string everyone out and quiet the chatter, but because there was no real spots to pass, it forced a slowness that allowed us to not blow up the legs right away. Then came a short ~0.6 mile downhill, a winding little chute that dumped us onto Cloud Cap Road. In my head I knew: this was the start of the “real” climb.
The Climb
Cloud Cap Road was both friend and foe for the next 8+ miles. Parts of it were runnable, with packed gravel that let me lock into a groove. At times, dirt benches along the shoulder opened up—smooth little lanes that felt like a secret path carved just for runners. But then it would flip the script: loose, marble-like rocks scattered underfoot, grooves and random baseball-sized boulders demanding quick footwork.
It wasn’t technical in the root-and-rock singletrack sense, but it was relentless—an uphill grinder that required constant negotiation. Each switchback teased you with a view of Hood getting bigger and bigger, but also reminded you there was no shortcut: just more steady climbing.
It kept me on my toes (literally), but that mix of runnable and rough somehow made the grind more engaging. And while it was technically open to cars, I think I counted six the entire time—hardly enough to matter.
The Views
If the climb itself didn’t keep you engaged, the views certainly did. From almost the very start of Cloud Cap Road, Mt. Hood kept sneaking into view—at first a distant snow-capped triangle, then mile by mile swelling into a massive, looming wall of ice and rock. With every switchback, it felt like the mountain grew a size, pulling us closer while daring us to keep climbing.
But it wasn’t just Hood. On the long stretches where the trees opened up to the northwest, the peaks stacked themselves across the horizon.
Even with a bit of smoky haze in the air, you could clearly spot Mt. Adams, Mt. St. Helens, and Mt. Rainier way off in the distance. It was one of those rare times in a race where I almost wished the course had a pause button. I wanted to just stand there, soaking it in, instead of moving past it.
Every new angle somehow outdid the last: rocky ridgelines stretching below, valleys cut deep with shadows, Hood’s glaciers gleaming in the September sun. Every mile seemed to unveil a new postcard moment – and rendered the pictures I took minutes before seem lame and outdated. I don’t get goosebumps often while running, but up there in that strange little no-man’s-land—behind the lead pack but ahead of the chase—I caught myself getting emotional.
It was quiet, surreal, and beautiful in that “pictures will never capture this” kind of way.
Cloud Cap Inn
Eventually the road dead-ended at the historic Cloud Cap Inn, where one last kicker climb up a short singletrack spat us into the most energized aid station I’ve ever hit. The Portland Cowgill Trail Collective had basically thrown a party up there—music, food, smiles, and all the encouragement you didn’t realize you needed.
It was almost a let-down to leave, except the promise of downhill was calling.
The Downhill
Confession: I don’t love downhills. In past races, they’ve left me with sore knees and regret. I usually carry trekking poles to soften the pounding, but skipped them here since the climb wasn’t overly technical. Surprisingly, it worked out.
The Tilly Jane Trail was its own adventure—three downhill miles that gave back every foot of gain in one rapid fire shot. It started wide enough, dropping past the Guard Station and A-Frame with huge, sweeping views that almost made me forget my quads were about to get hammered.
But the singletrack soon narrowed to a ribbon through the trees, and that’s where it got a tiny bit dicey: shadows hiding roots, rocks lurking just out of sight, switchbacks that came up quicker than expected. Add in the siren call of those expansive views begging for attention, and it was a game of focus or fall.
For someone who’s been on a “falling streak” in trail races lately, I was pretty stoked to stay upright all the way back down. I will clarify that it wasn’t super technical either – just required some attention!
The Finish
The course looped back onto the opening mile in reverse before dropping us at the finish, where we were greeted with a race-logo glass (perfect for Neversecond electrolytes, Happy Mountain Kombucha, or water) and a massive burrito that hit every spot.
Final Take
Trail conditions in late September can be a gamble, but 2025 delivered perfection. Daybreak Racing absolutely knocked this one out of the park—scenery, course, organization, all of it.
Cloud Cap is a keeper.
Next up for Daybreak Racing:
- Perpetua Coast – October 4-5
- Rogue Gorge – Mid-October, Southern Oregon
- Thunder River – November, Columbia River Gorge