The Manitou Incline

Come with me on 2,768 steps of pain

Lately I’ve been trying to find things to do in Colorado. It’s tough living out here all alone and if I stay indoors, I really struggle with feeling bad. This means really stretching out and looking for stuff to do, which is sometimes difficult when you live in Pueblo (motto: the vape capital of the Southwest). So last Friday I headed off to do the famed Manitou Incline near Pike’s Peak.

I pulled this off Pinterest because my pics don’t do it justice. This is a Sufferfest.

If you’re unfamiliar, the Manitou Incline is a study in brutality. It’s all that remains of a railway that once went up the mountain. Beginning at an altitude of about 6,000 feet, it rises 2,000 feet in less than a mile via those 2,768 steps you read about in the subtitle. It is a brutal slog, but favored by Colorado women and men named Chad. It’s also a rite of passage here on the Front Range, meaning that eventually I had to make the attempt.

I was pretty vocal in the office about my plans. My boss offered words of encouragement like “good luck!” and “you’re going to die.”¹ But I knew that once I started, there would be no turning back. Besides, I was trying to impress a girl.

I met up with my buddy Dan at about 2:30 to begin the hike. I’d asked Dan to go with me because he’s always trying to convince me that Colorado isn’t awful and that I should shut up about Florida. Dan’s also about a hundred pounds lighter and in way better shape, so I worried about slowing him down. Dan, being the good soul that he is, was there mostly to encourage me to do something he could do in his sleep.²

I brought a backpack that was way too heavy and filled with three liters of water. I’d once run out of water in Yellowstone and decided that would never happen again. Unfortunately the result is that nearly a week later my back still hurts. Moving on.

I knew right away that I’d made a mistake when I had to walk uphill just to exit the parking lot. There are two things I’m good at making: dinner and bad decisions. This would be the latter.

When you read about the Incline, you’ll always be warned to pace yourself. The first steps are deceivingly simple. It’s a gradual walk. But that quickly gives way to actual steps, which just don’t stop. I think we took our first rest period within a 15 minutes of climbing.

Along the way we encountered plenty of women and Chads, all of whom were friendly. Many people offered encouragement to us as they passed. There would many people who passed. And if I’m being serious for a second, I’ve come to realize that I’m just too damn big for Colorado. I stand at about 265lbs. Yes, I have a lot of muscle. But that’s still a lot of human to move around the mountains here. I suppose that’s why Costo sells so many men’s medium shirts in this state. The men are built like Hobbits. But they sprint up that damn railway at a fascinating pace.

Getting up there hurt because I had hurt my right knee months ago, enough that Dan said he saw it wobble several times up the track. To mitigate it, I stepped on the big steps leading with my left leg, but that resulted in that leg catching fire somewhere around Step 1,200. I won’t lie—it was painful to make the climb.

I never once considered quitting. I am just too damn stubborn. I really didn’t care how long it took—I was going up top. Dan provided support by teaching me some breathing techniques for time on the mountain and also offering some feedback: “stop talking.”

Along the way we passed multiple chipmunks and lots of mule deer hanging out right off the tracks. The chipmunks were obviously used to being fed; many of them came right up to us expecting food.³

Everyone warns you about the false summit. You can’t see the actual summit from the base. So you know that there’s going to be a point about 3/4 of the way there that feels like the end. But it is so not. From there, I say the last 700 steps are a brutal, unforgiving hatefest that will make you question your will to live.⁴

We stopped so many times, especially as both of my knees and lungs caught fire. But Dan offered encouragement, as did younger and older Chads alike. But we made it to the top in about two and a half hours, which felt terrific. We took a little break to enjoy the view and make some calls before deciding to work our way down.

Coming down was somehow even better. You’re not supposed to walk back down the tracks, but instead go down Barr Trail. Folks, the views from Barr Trail were just spectacular. You got to see all sorts of mountain vistas, huge boulders, trees of every kind, and yes, more chipmunks and more mule deer. It’s really just a series of switchbacks through some absolutely gorgeous wilderness. Had we more time, we would have dallied so I could take even more pictures. But believe me, it was so amazing.

Both Dan and I fell at different times on the trail, meaning I have to get an MRI soon. So that’s awesome. I also got complimented on my insanely high pain tolerance given the state of my right knee, but I was married to a lawyer once so I feel like I’d been waiting for this day all my life.

Ultimately we made it back in just enough time to visit Old Colorado City Brewery and finally have the lager I’d been fantasizing about since about step 11.

Here’s a one minute video I made of the whole trip:

It turned out to be a great day on the mountain. I don’t think I impressed the girl.

Jason

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1. Thank you, Ryan.

2. Dan is one of my few friends who is not an attorney, so it’s nice to be around someone with a soul.

3. This semicolon brought to you by Brett Rushforth (also not a lawyer).

4. I propose renaming the last section the Mother In Law.