Cascade Crest 100 (CC100) is a non-profit organization that hosts one of Washington’s most infamous ultramarathons, a race known for its brutality and beauty. With more than 23,000 feet of elevation gain and 100 grueling miles run under the summer sun, it’s earned its reputation. The Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest (NF) permits the competitive event with thirty of those miles winding along the Pacific Crest Trail, one of the most treasured footpaths in the world.

Taken from the official @cascadecrest100 Instagram
Each year, runners from across the globe descend on this quiet stretch of Washington wilderness. The waitlist now stretches 400 deep. But if you’ve never heard of it, that’s by design. There are no camera crews, no prize purses, no influencers sprinting for photo ops. Just 180 souls, chasing something deeply personal through dust, sweat, and switchbacks.
The race, now in its 26th year, is powered entirely by volunteers. From the Easton Fire Department to the Easton High School fire cadet program, the communities of Easton and Hyak have made this race part of their identity. Race Director Jess Mullen speaks often of the partnerships that keep the race alive, not just logistically, but spiritually. This is more than a race. It’s a community ritual.
Which leads us to this scene…

Taken from the official @cascadecrest100 Instagram
The sound hits before the sight: whooping, hollering, beer cans clanking. Somewhere ahead, deep in the forest on the PCT somewhere near Easton and Hyak, the noise cuts through the trees. Runners half-delirious from the miles behind them, wondering, is that the next aid station?
It’s not.
They round a bend on the PCT and there it is: a rowdy gauntlet of dirt-streaked trail crew volunteers, grinning and shouting their names like they’re sprinting the final stretch of the Olympics. The trail is lined with empty beer cans. The volunteers raise their half-fulls overhead, forming a tunnel of chaos, celebration, and absolute joy.
This isn’t official. This is tradition.

North 350 Blades volunteers onsite in Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest. Photo by Dan Sedlacek.
It’s the North 350 Blades (N350B), a band of trail stewards who don’t just maintain this section of the PCT; they live it. Once a year, they trade Pulaskis for Rainier Beers and welcome the runners like long-lost friends. The origins of this scene go back to 2011, when the Blades happened to be working a section of trail during the race. When the runners came through, the cheers started. By the next year, it was planned. The legend began.
But the bond between CC100 and the Pacific Crest Trail Association runs far deeper than a shared party in the woods. It’s a rare kind of partnership, forged not just in proximity, but in purpose.
Each year, that thirty-mile stretch of trail must be cleared, restored, and ready to carry runners. Both the race organizers and the Blades treat that responsibility with care. Jess Mullen speaks of gratitude more than entitlement. “We’re just incredibly grateful to be allowed to continue hosting the race on the PCT,” she says. “We try to be respectful stewards.” That includes not one but two sweep teams, tasked with making sure nothing is left behind.
The runners are part of that stewardship too. Every participant is asked to give back, through eight hours of trail work, or a donation. But those funds don’t vanish into vague budgets. They go exactly where they’re needed, thanks to open, direct collaboration with the Blades and other local nonprofits. As Jack Jensen, longtime N350B coordinator, explains, “They ask us what we need.” This year, that meant a refreshed tool cache, a crucial piece of infrastructure that took months of coordination and effort to complete. And it got done, with the full support of the race.
![]() The tool cache in construction. |
![]() The completed, fully equipped tool cache. |
This kind of partnership isn’t common. It’s built on trust, on shared values, and on the belief that a race should give back more than it takes. And that’s exactly what Cascade Crest 100 has become: a race that enriches its home trail, not just uses it.
Despite the surging interest, Jess and her team are adamant about keeping the field small. “We don’t want to damage the trail or overwhelm the local ecosystem,” she says. That kind of intentionality defines everything about CC100, from the no-frills race culture, to the two thru-hikers who happened upon the race while hiking PCT and finished the race with the runners!
To lace up for Cascade Crest is to step into a tradition that values humility over hype, intention over spectacle, and partnership over profit. This race doesn’t just pass through the PCT, it actively protects it, nurtures it, and celebrates those who care for it.
As Jack Jensen puts it, “It’s great that they’re still part of the PCTA world.” They show up year over year to support the PCTA.
Cascade Crest 100 isn’t just an endurance race. It’s an enduring testament to what’s possible when a race doesn’t just run through the trail, but stands beside those who protect it.