The sun was already beaming down on us as my aunt and I drove through the town of Manitou Springs that early summer morning. The original shops were still intact from the late 1870s, with their original rustic signs, since most of the town is part of a historic district. At the very foot of Pikes Peak, which could be seen from many different parts of Colorado, Manitou Springs is known for its antique shops, authentic culture, entertainment and family activities. I could have stared at it for hours, maybe done some shopping, but those weren’t the plans for this morning. The two of us, rushing because we had already been pulled over by a Sheriff for speeding, even though we were the only car on the road that early in the morning, nearly escaped hitting a deer just moments before. Deer were everywhere, something else that I would have to get used to. We were headed to that long strip of brown that trailed up the side of a distant mountain. That very same mountain that she pointed to the day of my arrival and assured me we would climb in a couple of weeks. I scoffed at the idea; surely I would never even attempt to do such a task. Yet here I was, still in disbelief that I let her convince me this would be a good plan. By this plan, I mean the Manitou Springs Incline; one of the most extreme hiking trails known in the country. Now let me just explain that this is coming from a girl who has issues running even a block, someone you definitely wouldn’t rely on to outrun a zombie apocalypse. My aunt on the other hand, a trained and physically fit Airman, was more than excited for the hike. At 6,035 feet above sea level, the altitude of Colorado was already a challenge for me. The air was dry and the oxygen levels were far less than what I was used to in New Jersey. I looked up at the mountain again, was I really going to go through with this? As I got to the very first step of the incline, I peered up at the abandoned railroad tracks constructed in 1907 that would become the biggest challenge of my life. What was I getting myself into?
Before the Incline became officially legal to climb in February 2013, just a few months prior to this trip, hundreds of locals flocked to Manitou Springs to experience the popular hike. As it stands, the Incline was originally constructed as a railroad which operated under the Pikes Peak Cog Railway, and then as a tourist attraction before being wrecked in a number of occasions, including a giant rockslide that essentially ruined parts of the track. At the expense of the Cog Railway, the owners decided not to repair the damages and removed the tracks, leaving only the wooden structure it was built upon. Due to its proximity to nearby military bases and the US Olympic Training Center, the Incline has become an extremely popular destination for those looking for an intense workout. The Incline itself has never been repaired and therefore can be dangerous with the rocks that lay loosely embedded to the sides of the tracks, wooden steps, partially covered in dirt and moreover cracking right down the middle; the exact recipe for a very bad splinter. There are also rusted metal pipes that protrude certain parts of the incline that must be carefully climbed over to avoid injury, left behind from the original structure. Many areas throughout the hike are too steep to walk straight up and make it essential for people to physically climb, which can potentially be hazardous for those who are unable to perform such tasks. It is not recommended for the physically unfit to attempt the extreme hiking trail because it would be difficult for aid to get to you if necessary. The only way back is to go all the way down the trail at the side of the mountain, or as the locals call it, the bailout point. Anyone attempting the Incline does so at his or her own risk.
As my ascent began, the first few steps of the hike went smoothly. The higher we moved, the heavier my breathing became, but it grew unmanageable quicker than I anticipated. I veered off to the side and gulped my water as if my life depended on it, and maybe it had. I took that moment to look around however. There were people of all ages climbing the steps in front of me, fit and unfit, young and old. It was then that I saw a mother with what I first perceived to be a backpack that she carried on her shoulders, but as she finally passed me it was a child on her back looking around at the beautiful scenery that surrounded us, not crying or sleeping, just simply taking it all in. Soon after, an older man passed me, hiking with more determination than I’d probably ever seen in a person. The sweat dripped down his face and soaked through his shirt, but he continued climbing, effortlessly. Looking over at my aunt Lisy who patiently waited for me to regain myself, I realized that this was definitely something I could achieve if I put my determination into it. I looked back one last time, the start of the incline shrinking in the distance, and continued on my journey.
This experience was more difficult than my gym class in high school, more frightening than the heights of the roller-coasters that my dad convinced me to go on a month before. Surely, the higher we got, the more frequently I stopped to take a sip of my water and rest. My aunt Lisy was always patient though. She never complained or got angry when I stopped. No, she did the opposite. She motivated me to keep going as she motivates me to do a lot of things in life and she let me take my time. From where I stood hours later, the end looked closer, so close that I could almost reach for it. It was what the locals called a “false summit,” the halfway point that had the bailout point for those incapable of going any farther, and it was calling my name. Almost positive that this was the end of my journey to the top, I started heading in the direction of the bailout point, until suddenly I looked back. The entry to the incline was seemingly insignificant and the people closer to the bottom, smaller than ants. “Look how far you’ve come,” my aunt said to me. “You already made it through the hard part, I’m not letting you give up.” I knew at that moment that she wasn’t going to let me quit, even if she had to drag me up there herself, so I ventured on, ultimately pushing myself to my maximum limitations.
Two hours later, I could see the crowed of people sitting at the top of the Incline, as I pushed myself to the very last step. I finally sat on a nearby boulder and stared out in amazement, feeling the smile on my face stretch from ear to ear. I felt like I could see all of Colorado in that very moment, I was infinite. I did it. Against all odds, I managed to overcome one of the most difficult things I had ever put myself through. Of course, my journey wasn’t over just yet I still had to hike down the Barr Trail to make it back to the car, a total of 3 miles down a bending curve, steep hills and even more breathtaking views. But, at that one moment it didn’t matter to me. I was able to accomplish a once in a life time opportunity and that’s something that will stick with me forever.
Erica M. Szkola