A random trail sign inspires a hike up America’s Mountain
Editor’s note: While fact-checking this story, I discovered that Manitou is the Algonquian word meaning great spirits, the spiritual and fundamental life force present in everything. I thought that was very appropriate for this story as the spirit of one adventure leads Mark to another up the Manitou Incline.
By the way, I’d like to thank Mark for contributing this story to our 25th anniversary. He was also one of our first contributors way back, before social media, before blogs, back when we were just known as a webzine, an online magazine. As you will see, Mark really does embody the spirit of adventure in his willingness to explore the world despite adversity.
PS. Click on the images to see the full size. There are a lot, so I had to make them a bit small to start.
Location: Colorado.
The Manitou Incline had been on my bucket list for a while. The thought of marching into the sky on a cog railway built in 1907 sounded like no hike I’d been on before, and a workout challenge that would be rewarded with epic views. As a fan of Colorado’s awesome scenery and trails, I booked a flight to knock this one out.
After landing in Denver, I had some time to kill before checking into the hotel, so I decided to drive to Pike’s Peak. It’s rare to be able to go up a 14-thousand-foot mountain, and the exhilarating drive gave me the sensation of driving straight into the sky. It reminded me of Glacier National Park’s Going-to-the-Sun Road, an epic drive from a few years back. The views at the top were stunning, and the visitor center was packed with fascinating displays about the mountain and its history. (See some pictures and read a story about Scott’s bicycle ride up Going-to-the-Sun Road. )
Early the next morning, permit in pocket (a time slot for Manitou Incline must be booked online — it’s free), I hit step number #1 of 2768, thinking: How hard can this be? It’s only 1 mile! One thing is for sure, there’s no chance of getting lost. (I’m guilty many times of experiencing that risk factor!)
As I began climbing the first section, I kept my head down to avoid seeing the steep, infinite stairway that lay in front of me. This first section of the trail was not very steep, and I was making good time. Before I knew it, step #1000 was under me. I was more than a third of the way up. This is not that bad! What’s all the fuss about? And what was up with that trail difficulty warning sign at the bottom? I thought.
I spoke too soon. Next came… the midsection. The steps suddenly got much taller and narrower, requiring much more concentration and quad strength. I found myself reaching my hands out to the step in front of me to stabilize. I’m now paying for every beer I had in college. Good thing I remembered the water! I slogged through this midsection at a glacier-like pace and then made the mistake of looking up. It was clear: every step from here was going to be earned. This is where all the grunting, huffing and puffing was heard from fellow hikers, and I was no exception. Suddenly, I was a wiser… more humble man — a reward of many adventures.
As things slowed to a crawl, I looked up and noticed that the crest was not far away. More pain ahead for sure — but doable. The end is almost here. I continued higher, and just as I was about to rip off my backpack in celebration, the terrain over the crest came into. Not so fast. That was what is called a false peak. The real peak is another stretch of steps ahead. More pain!
While this final stretch was not as steep as the midsection, it was clear there wouldn’t be any cruising into the finish line. More grunting required. As I got close, hikers at the peak were cheering me and other nearby hikers on, and we were waving at them to say thanks for the encouragement. This was definitely a memorable part of the climb!
Forty-seven quad-busting minutes later, I finally hit the real peak. Now I can rip off the backpack!
I found myself in Instagram selfie chaos and ducking to avoid photo-bombing a dozen shots going off in every direction. Looking down from the top, all 2768 steps looked surreal and almost CGI-generated.
Next objective: Get back down! There are two ways: Back down the steps I just climbed (some brave souls will run down these!) or connect onto the nearby Barr Trail, which zigzags back down. To save my knees, I decided on the latter.
I followed a few other hikers to the trail and came across a trail sign that pointed both left, back down to the parking lot, or right, continue up to Pike’s Peak! So this trail goes to the 14,115-foot peak I drove up yesterday? What an adventure that would be!
Since I had only climbed one fourteen-thousand-footer in my life (Mt. Whitney), I decided to go for it before I fly home in a couple days. Opening up my trusty AllTrails app, I checked the stats: 12 miles to the top, and 7400 feet of elevation gain. Definitely a trek — especially with the altitude adjustment.
To acclimate, I drove right back up Pike’s Peak (“Didn’t I see you yesterday?” the ranger at the entrance station laughed.) The plan was to spend the afternoon there climbing stairs. I started by running up the main staircase in the visitor center and quickly got a sense of “altitude adjustment.” After these 25 steps, my head was pounding. Do I have Advil in the car? Whoa! I had read that at this elevation the oxygen is about 60% of sea level. I believed it.
But after a few more hours, I found my body slowly adjusting, and climbing up and down various stairways got a little easier. I stayed until closing time. This was an elevation cram session! With time tight before I fly back home, the goal was to hike Pike’s Peak tomorrow.
An element of the hike frequently mentioned on the AllTrails reviews is the weather — and how fast it can change on the mountain. Indeed, the Barr Trail sign at the trailhead warned to be ready to turn back if the weather gets ugly (a few hikers mentioned getting pounded with hail). As luck would have it, weather reports showed a big storm coming in around noon tomorrow.
Mapping out the hike time and giving leeway for rest stops, the plan was to leave tomorrow at 3 am to beat the weather. Good thing I brought my trusty headlamp! What I needed was bear spray, as many hikers mentioned spotting them, and a ranger mentioned they are mainly nocturnal in this area.
As planned, I headed towards the trailhead just before 3 am — primetime for nocturnal bears — and noticed lights dancing up the trail. A few other hikers had beaten me to the punch. It was very peaceful as I began zigzagging up the Barr Trail, headlamp leading the way. Strewn sporadically along the trail were some massive boulders. Below, Manitou Springs’ city lights provided photo opportunities, and adding to the surrealness was a nearly full moon.
After about an hour, I reached the sign that inspired this hike. I had reached the equivalent of the top of the Manitou Incline. While this first section of the trail was a consistent climb and got the heart pumping, it was nothing compared to the Incline!
The trail headed deeper into the forest and was relatively flat and tame. I hiked through the forest for a few miles and was making good time. I could hear the Manitou Creek to my left and various critters scurrying about in the dark alongside the trail.
As the first indications of daylight came, I heard a loud snort in a patch of woods to the left. It had some heft to it, like it came from something large. Good thing I remembered that bear spray. Just keep moving, I thought to myself. Then the snort happened again, this time even louder. I pulled the spray canister out and removed the safety cap… just in case.
Then, I heard some rustling in the forest to the left — perhaps 30 yards away. What was that? Out from the trees appeared… a large… human! Whew. I had unknowingly arrived at Barr Camp, a base camp for two-day summit hikes. Good time for a water break.
I quickly realized after leaving Barr Camp that the final six miles were not going to be like the first six. The trail became steeper and rocky. As I slowly started pulling above the tree line, the terrain was changing to tan rock, sporadic brush and the occasional marmot. The sun rising from behind the mountains created some incredible scenery. It made me forget I was breathing a lot heavier.
After some switchbacks, I came to a sign that said “The 16 Golden Stairs”. I thought maybe this was some scenic rock formation. But where was it? I continued up the trail and realized this sign wasn’t for a photo stop — but a boulder scrambling section ahead. While not technically challenging, climbing over the boulders did a golden job of zapping whatever energy I had left in the tank!
After these were behind me, head pounding, I took a break and looked up towards the peak. Barely poking out over the crest was a dark brown triangle. Being here yesterday, I realized this was the corner of the visitor center’s roof! The end was in sight. Visions of a huge fridge filled with Gatorade motivated me to keep charging up. The tracks for the Pikes Peak Railway came into view, and the peak was steps away.
I stepped into the visitor center haggardly, and the air conditioning hit like a welcome breeze. Operation Gatorade.
The views from the top were stunning, but I found out from a ranger there that the “official peak” is actually a section of rock poking out of the parking lot, so I went over there to grab one last picture… and make it official!
As I’ve realized over and over, some of the most memorable adventures can come upon you randomly — like a trail sign pointing the way down the Manitou Incline… that inspires a hike up America’s Mountain.
