A RAILROAD TO THE CLOUDS.
Early History of Manitou--Zebulon Pike's Important Discovery--A Young
Medicine Man's Peril and Final Triumph--A Health Resort in Years Gone
By--The Garden of the Gods--The Railroad up Pike's Peak--Early Failures
and Final Success--The Most Remarkable Road in the World--Riding Above
the Clouds.
Manitou is a name which conjures up reminiscences of legend and history,
and it also reminds the traveler of some of the most remarkable scenes
of the Rocky Mountains. It has been said that the man who knows how to
appreciate natural grandeur and beauty, can spend six months in the
vicinity of Manitou, and then come back six month later to find
undiscovered joys and treasures of beauty on every side.
The earliest reliable records concerning this spot date back to the year
1806, when Major Zebulon Pike discovered what he called the Great Snow
Mountain. This, one of the loftiest of the Rockies, is now known as
Pike's Peak after its discoverer, or at any rate after the man who first
described it for the benefit of the public.
It is on record that when Major Pike was crossing Colorado, nearly a
hundred years ago, he saw on the horizon what he regarded as a misty
cloud. When he finally realized that there was a mountain in front of
him, he was at least a hundred miles away from it, and there were two or
three smaller hills to be crossed before reaching it. After marching for
over a week the party reached the Cheyenne Mountain, which they believed
was the ascent of the great peak, a theory which was soon disproved.
Manitou is at the foot of this great mountain. It was first described at
length by an English tourist who visited the Manitou Springs just half a
century ago. He traveled alone, and exhibited not only an immense amount
of bravery, but also unlimited judgment in evading the attacks of wild
beasts and equally savage Indians.
His description of the trip is full of great interest. He describes how
a band of mountain sheep advanced to the edge of an overhanging
precipice to gaze upon the intruder, and how, a moment later, a herd of
black tailed deer ran in front of him, with that contempt of danger seen
only in animals which have not come in contact with human beings or
modern weapons. The birds, he tells us, were indifferent as to his
presence. They sang almost within arm's reach, and their rich plumage
completely fascinated him. He continued in his hunter's paradise until
he accidentally stumbled upon an Indian camp. No Indians were present,
but the smouldering camp-fires warned him that they were not far
distant. Later, he saw two Indians, who were evidently Arapahoes,
carrying a deer between them, and he knew that the delightful hunting he
had promised himself would not be forthcoming.
He was shortly afterwards captured in a prairie fire, in which he was in
great danger of being destroyed; nothing but the daring of his horse
saved his life. He had heard from the friendly Indians he had met on his
march that the Great Spirit had endowed the waters of the Springs of
Manitou with miraculous healing powers, and he drank freely from the
pure springs. These springs made Manitou a veritable Mecca for Indians
of the West and Southwest for many generations before the white men
discovered them. Pilgrimages were made across mountains and rivers of
great magnitude, and when an Indian chief showed signs of failing
health, and was not benefited by the machinations of medicine men, he
was generally carried to Manitou, no matter how far the journey might
be, or how great were the obstacles to be overcome.
Among the many stories told concerning journeys of weeks' and even
months' duration, one is exceptionally vivid, and is evidently founded
on fact, although superstition has surrounded the facts with so much
coloring that they are hard to discover. The story runs that in days
long gone by, a great chief, who had conquered every tribe of whose
existence he was aware, fell sick and could not be benefited by the
medicine men, who were summoned from every direction. A number of these
unfortunate physicians were put to death as a penalty for their failure
to restore health to the dying chief. Finally, there were very few
medicine men remaining in the vicinity; those who had not been
decapitated having proved their strong desire for further life by
discreetly retiring to parts unknown.
One day tidings were brought the chief of a young medicine man in a
neighboring tribe who had been overlooked by the searchers, but who had
been phenomenally successful in wooing back health and prolonging life.
The tribe had long since been reduced to a condition of subjection, and
the said chief sent a detachment of his braves, with instructions to
bring back the medicine man alive or dead.
The young man, who had been expecting a summons of this kind, did not
display the alarm anticipated. Even when he was told that the old chief
was certainly dying, and that it was impossible to help him in any way,
he maintained his stolid indifference and merely smiled.
He carried with him a primitive vessel, filled with some mysterious
fluid, upon the virtues of which he had implicit reliance. When he
reached the camp in which the sick chief lay, he was summoned
immediately before the ailing autocrat. That individual stated his
symptoms, and then, instead of asking, as we are apt to ask our
physicians, whether there was any medicine available for them, he told
the young medicine man that if no improvement was effected within a few
days there would be a funeral in the village, and there would be one
less medicine man in the vicinity.
This somewhat startling introduction did not disconcert the young man,
who poured out a liberal dose of the fluid he had brought with him, and
made the old chief drink it. During the night he repeated the doses
several times, and on the following day he kept up the treatment. To
every one's astonishment the blood began to flow again in the veins of
the once invincible chief, and those who had been pitying the young
medicine man began to congratulate him on his triumph. When, after a few
days, the improvement became more marked, the young doctor explained to
the chief that the water he had given him had been brought from springs
in the distant mountains, and that if the chief desired to obtain
another lease of life, he must visit those springs and remain there for
some weeks.
With the enthusiasm of renewed vigor, the old man promptly agreed to the
suggestion, and in a few days arrangements were complete for a grand
march over the Rocky Mountains to Manitou. Tradition tells of the
splendor of the march, and of the way in which obstructions and
hindrances were overcome. Finally, the great mountain was seen in the
distance, and a few days later a halt was made at the springs. Here the
old chief was given a regular treatment, and in a few days he was able
to walk as vigorously as ever. Finally, he returned to his tribe, not
only renewed in health, but also renewed in youth. The records of his
race state that his appearance was entirely changed, and that, instead
of looking like an old man, his features were those of a youth in his
twenties. The chief lived many years, and finally died in battle.
The fame of his cure naturally spread abroad with great rapidity. The
old man was so well known that he became a walking testimonial of the
merits of the springs, and expeditions without number were in
consequence made to them. White people, as they came in contact with the
Indians of the Far West, heard of the springs from time to time and of
this wonderful cure. By many the stories were confounded with the
legends concerning the search of Ponce de Leon for the fountain of
perpetual youth. Later, however, more thorough investigation was made,
and for more than a generation the truth, as well as the legends of
Manitou, have been generally known.
As a result, a great watering place has sprung up on the site of what
was once a mysterious resting place of the Indians, and a retreat which
it was dangerous to enter. About 2,000 people live here, and during the
season there are often 3,000 or 4,000 health-seekers in addition. There
is a grand avenue through the village eighty feet wide and well kept.
Instead of being laid out in a mathematically straight line, it follows
the meanderings of the River Fontaine-qui-Bouille. This feature gives it
a novel as well as a delightful appearance. There is also a little park,
which possesses features not to be found in the recreation grounds of
large cities, and there is a foot-path known as Lover's Lane, which is
so romantic in its appearance that it is obviously well known.
The springs of Manitou are naturally the most interesting feature of the
place. The Shoshone Spring, in the center of the village, is, perhaps,
the best known. The Navajo Spring is but a few yards distant, and is
considerably larger. The Manitou Spring itself is on the other side of
the river, and is covered over with a very elegant spring-house. The
Iron Ute Spring is in Engelman's Cañon or glen, and is regarded by many
as the best of all. Caves and cañons innumerable abound in every
direction. The Manitou Grand Cañon is within two miles of the village.
It presents the appearance of a natural mansion, with rooms several
hundred feet long and high. The natural formations of the peculiar rocks
present bewildering combinations of galleries, columns and frescoes.
Here is to be seen the wonderful stalactite organ. This, according to
many, is one of the wonders of the world. It consists of a number of
thin stalactites of varying powers of reverberation, and these play
delightful tunes or at least tones.
One of the great objects of a trip to Manitou is to gain a sight of the
world-renowned, but singularly named, Garden of the Gods. The most
direct road to reach it from the village is by way of Manitou Avenue and
Buena Vista Drive, the latter being a well-traveled road, which enters
the avenue on the left, about a mile from the town, as one advances
towards Colorado City. The entrance to the Garden is past Balanced Rock,
an immense boulder which stands directly to the left of the road, poised
on such a slender base that it suggests an irregular pyramid standing on
its apex. To the right, as one passes this curious formation, is a steep
wall of stratified stone, draped with clinging vines, and overgrown with
evergreens. Pausing a moment on the brow of the elevation which is
reached here, one can look down into the valley below in which the
Garden lies. To the west are the mountains; to the east the plains. The
road which winds through the valley is a pleasant way. One's eyes and
mind are kept busy beholding and recording the interesting views which
here abound.
No one knows why this valley was named "The Garden of the Gods." There
is nothing especially garden-like in its appearance; but, doubtless
through "apt alliteration's artful aid," the name has become greatly
popular, and it would be foolish to quarrel with it, or make any attempt
to change it. There are, however, ample suggestions that Titanic forces
have been at work here, and it requires but little imagination to
ascribe these innumerable quaint sculpturings, these magnificent
architectural rock works, these grand and imposing temples, not made
with hands, to the agencies of the gods. Here are to be found carved in
the stone by those cunning instruments of the hands of Nature--the wind,
the rain, the sunbeam and the frost--curious, often grotesque, figures
irresistibly suggestive of forms of life. Here stands a statue of
Liberty, leaning on her shield, with the conventional Phrygian cap on
her head; there is a gigantic frog carved in sandstone; yonder is a
pilgrim, staff in hand. Groups of figures in curious attitudes are to be
seen on every hand.
Stone figures of the lion, the seal and the elephant are all found;
indeed, a lively imagination is not needed to discover in this Garden of
the Gods an endless variety of imitative forms of human beings, of birds
and beasts and reptiles. These figures possess a curious interest and
attract wondering attention; but the notable and majestic objects here
are the "Great Gateway" and the "Cathedral Spires." Two lofty tables of
carnelian colored sandstone, set directly opposite each other, about
fifty feet apart, and rising to a height of 330 feet, form the portals
of the far-famed Gateway. They rise from perfectly level ground, and
present a strangely impressive spectacle.
The "Cathedral Spires" are of a similar character to the Gateway, but
their crests are sharply splintered into spire-like pinnacles. The forms
assumed by the rocks here are remarkable indeed, but their color is
still more remarkable. No sandstones of the East glow with such a
splendor of carnelian hue. The striking contrast formed by these crimson
crags outlined against he deep blue sky, and gilded by the high, white
light of the unclouded sun of Colorado, cannot be described.
One of the most visited prairie-dog towns is close to the Garden of the
Gods. It is interesting to the tourist, and is generally visited on the
return from the Garden to Manitou. The town is situated on the road
which passes through the great Gateway to Colorado City, and may be seen
on a little plateau to the left. There are a great number of little
hills of sand and gravel thrown up by the dogs around their burrows.
Every fine day they can be seen at work around their dwellings, or
sitting on their haunches sunning themselves, and chattering gaily with
some neighbor. The burrow has an easy incline for about two feet, then
descends perpendicularly for five or six, and after that branches off
obliquely; it is often as large as a foot in diameter. It has been
claimed that the prairie-dog, the owl and the rattlesnake live
harmoniously together.
Concerning this, Mr. William G. Smith, the well-known naturalist, says:
"Impossible. The burrowing owl will generally be seen where dogs
congregate, and wherever the ground is undermined his snakeship is apt
to be found; but rest assured there is some lively 'scattering' to get
out of his way if he draws his slimy carcass into their burrows. The
dogs have no desire to contest his right to it, and give him all the
room he wants." The dogs at home are neat little fellows, and allow no
litter to accumulate around their doors. They go to bed early, and never
go around disturbing their neighbors before daylight.
Adjoining the Garden is a region of ridges. One ridge leads up to
another, and that to a third, and so on. This broken country, covered
with pine and cedar, and clothed with bunch grass and grama, makes a
capital tramping-ground, especially in winter, when rabbits, mountain
grouse and sage-hens are numerous enough to make it worth while to
shoulder a gun.
The way to reach the ridges is to take the road to the Garden of the
Gods, and follow it till the Quarry Road is reached. Pursuing the latter
up a gorge, and then turning to the left on a branch road, which zigzags
up the sides of the gorge, one soon finds oneself on the top of a ridge.
The rule in ridge-climbing is never to cross a gully, but always to keep
on top. All the ridges in this vicinity converge to the main ridge,
which overlooks Queen's Cañon. This ridge bends to the northwest, and in
two or three miles joins a still higher one, which, strange to say, will
be found to overlook the Ute Pass, a thousand feet above the Fontaine
qui-Bouille, which flows in the bottom of the cañon below--Eyrie, the
site of a private residence--a most interesting glen, but not open to
the public. The character of the monoliths in this cañon is more
remarkable even than those of the Garden of the Gods.
The Major Domo is a column of red sandstone, rising to a height of 300
feet, with a curious swell near the summit, which far exceeds in
diameter the base of the shaft. It looks as though it might fall at any
moment in obedience to the laws of gravity, and it is not exceeded in
this regard by the Leaning Tower of Pisa. There is another glen of a
similar character, about two miles to the northwest, which is known as
Blair Athol. It is a beautiful spot, but, lacking water, has never been
used as a dwelling place. It abounds in wildly picturesque scenery, and
possesses rock formations of strange shapes and brilliant colors. There
are groves of magnificent pines; and the view of the distant plains
stretching to the eastern horizon is unobstructed, and of great
interest.
We have already spoken of the discovery of Pike's Peak. At the summit of
this mountain, 14,147 feet above the sea level, there is a little signal
service station, which can be reached by railway. When the mountain was
first discovered several efforts were made to reach the summit, but
without success. Major Pike himself recorded his opinion that it would
be impossible for any human being to ascend to the summit. In these days
of engineering progress there is, however, no such word as "impossible."
Several enthusiasts talked as far back as twenty years ago of the
possibility of a railroad to the very summit of the once inaccessible
peak, and fifteen years ago a survey was made, with a view to building a
railroad up the mountain, by a series of curves and nooks.
It was believed possible by the engineers that a railroad of standard
gauge and equipment could be operated without special appliances, and so
strongly was this view held that work was commenced on the project.
Eight miles of grading was completed, but the project was then abandoned
in consequence of adverse reports received from experts, sent out for
the purpose. Their statement was that no grade would be able to stand
the force of the washouts, though, strange to say, all the grading that
was accomplished stands to-day, as firm as ever. Three or four years
later another project, destined to be more successful, came into
existence. In 1889, grading commenced, and finally the work was
completed, and the summit of Pike's Peak can now be reached by railroad.
The road itself is one of the most remarkable ones in the United States,
and, indeed, in the world. The road-bed is fifteen feet wide, and there
is not a single foot of trestle work in the entire construction. There
are three short bridges of iron, and the precautions in the way of cross
sections of masonry are very elaborate. The average ascent per mile is
1,320 feet, and the total ascent is nearly 8,000 feet. In the center of
the track, between the heavy steel rails, are two cog rails, of great
strength. These are provided to insure absolute safety for travelers,
one being for general use and the other as a kind of reserve.
Special locomotives are used on the line. These were constructed by the
Baldwin Company, of Philadelphia, and include the latest patents in
engine building. When standing on a level track they appear to be at a
slant of about 8 per cent. When on a mountain road, like that of Pike's
Peak, they are approximately level. There are three wheels on each side
of the engine, but these are not driving wheels, being merely used to
help sustain the weight. The driving wheels operate on the cog rails in
the center of the track. The cars also slope, or slant, like the engine.
No couplings are used, so that one great element of danger, is avoided.
The engine and the cars have each independent cog brakes of almost
unlimited power. When traveling three or four miles an hour, the little
train, with the locomotive pushing instead of pulling it, can be stopped
instantly. When the speed reaches eight or nine miles an hour, stoppage
can be effected in less than one revolution of a wheel.
Not only is the ride up Pike's Peak a wonderful sensation and a constant
reminder of the triumphs of engineering, but it is also a source of
continual delight to the lover of the beautiful and awful in nature.
About half way up the mountain is a most delightful little hillside
retreat, aptly named "The Half-Way House." It is a very comfortable
establishment within rustic walls. The pines and firs which surround it
add a great charm to the outlook, and the cool mountain breeze is
charged with very pleasing odors. Tourists frequently spend a night here
and consider the sensation one of the most unique of a long trip.
A tourist describing a ride up Pike's Peak by this singular railroad,
says:
"We are now far above timber line. On all sides can be seen strange
flowers, of lovely forms and varied hues. Plants which attain
considerable proportions on the plains are here reduced to their lowest
forms. It is not an unusual thing to find a sunflower stalk in the
prairies rising from a height of eight to ten feet; here they grow like
dandelions in the grass, yet retaining all their characteristics of form
and color. Beyond this mountain meadow are great fields of disintegrated
granite, broken cubes of pink rock, so vast in extent that they might
well be the ruins of all the ancient cities in the world. Far below
flash the waters of Lake Morain, and beyond, to the southward, lie the
Seven Lakes. Another turn of the track to the northward, and the shining
rails stretch almost straight up what appears to be an inaccessible wall
of almost peerless granite. But no physical obstruction is formidable
enough to stop the progress of this marvelous railway; and passing the
yawning abyss of the 'Crater,' the line proceeds direct to the summit.
The grade here is one of 25 per cent., and timid passengers will not
escape a thrill of fear as they gaze over the brink of this precipice,
although the danger is absolutely nothing. At last the summit is
reached, and, disembarking, the tourists can seek refreshments in the
hotel, which will cater to their wants, and then spend the time before
the train returns in enjoying the view, and in rambling over the seventy
acres of broken granite which form the summit.
"The view from the Peak, once beheld, can never be forgotten. The first
sensation is that of complete isolation. The silence is profound. The
clouds are below us, and noiselessly break in foaming billows against
the faces of the beetling cliffs. Occasionally the silence is broken by
the deep roll of thunder from the depths beneath, as though the voice of
the Creator were uttering a stern edict of destruction. The storm rises,
the mists envelop us, there is a rush of wind, a rattle of hail, and we
seek refuge in the hotel.
"Pause a moment before entering, and hold up your hands. You can feel
the sharp tingle of the electric current as it escapes from your
finger-tips. The storm is soon over, and you can see the sunbeams
gilding the upper surfaces of the white clouds that sway and swing below
you half way down the mountain sides, and completely hide from view the
world beneath. The scenery shifts, like a drawn curtain the clouds part;
and as from the heights of another sphere we look forth upon the majesty
of the mountains and the plains, an ocean of inextricably entangled
peaks sweeps into view. Forests dark and vast seem like vague shadows on
distant mountain sides. A city is dwarfed into the compass of a single
block; water courses are mere threads of silver, laid in graceful curves
upon the green velvet mantle of the endless plains. The red granite
rocks beneath our feet are starred with tiny flowers, so minute that
they are almost microscopic, yet tinted with the most delicate and
tender colors.
"The majesty of greatness and the mystery of minuteness are here brought
face to face. What wonders of creation exist between these two extremes!
The thoughtful mind is awed by the contemplation of this scene, and when
the reflection comes that these vast spaces are but grains of sand upon
an infinite shore of creation, and that there are worlds of beauty as
far and varied between the tiny flowers and the ultimate researches of
the microscope as those which exist, on an ascending scale, between the
flowers and the great globe itself, the mind is overwhelmed with wonder
and admiration. It is in vain that one strives to describe the scene.
Only those who have beheld it can realize its grandeur and
magnificence."
Lovers of horseback riding regard the vicinity of Pike's Peak and
Manitou almost in the light of a paradise. A ride of a few miles in any
direction leads to some specially attractive or historic spot. Crystal
Park is one of the popular resorts of this kind. It is enclosed by high
mountains on all sides, with an entrance which partakes of the nature of
a natural gateway. In summer time this park is a profusion of bloom,
with wild flowers and vines seldom seen in any other part of the world
in such splendor. There are several elevated spots from which the
surrounding country can be seen for miles. Above the park is Cameron's
Cone. This is a mountain of much interest, although it can only be
reached and climbed by hardy, athletic individuals. All around there are
a profusion of cañons. The Red Rock Cañon was at one time a popular
resort. It took its name from the profusion of red sandstone on all
sides. This natural wealth finally destroyed the beauty of the cañon,
which is now a mass of stone quarries. Bear Creek Cañon has less of the
practical and more of the picturesque about it. A very charming brook
runs down the center, and there are two or three small but very
delightful falls.
The Ridge Road is a species of boulevard recently constructed for the
use of visitors to Manitou. At places the grade is so abrupt that timid
ladies do not care to drive down it. Otherwise it is a very pleasing
thoroughfare, with fresh surprises and delights awaiting the tourist
every time he passes along it. The view in every direction is most
charming and extensive. Pike's Peak can be seen to great advantage, and
in the forty miles of the road many different features of this mountain
can be observed. The road also leads to William's Cañon.
Cheyenne Mountain, although dwarfed somewhat by Pike's Peak, is
deserving of notice. It is very massive in its form, and its sides are
almost covered by cañons, brooklets and waterfalls. Two vast gorges,
know as the North and South Cañons, are especially asked for by
visitors. The walls of these gorges are of rich granite, and stand
perpendicular on each side a thousand feet high. The effect is very
wonderful in a variety of ways. In the South Cañon are the celebrated
Seven Falls, which were immortalized by Mrs. Helen Hunt Jackson, the
well-known poetess, whose remains were interred on Cheyenne Mountain by
her own request. The Seven Lakes must also be seen by all visitors to
the Manitou region, and there are so many more special features to be
examined and treasures to be discovered that, no matter how long one
stays in the neighborhood, a pang of regret is felt when the visit is
brought to a termination.
There are other spots in America where more awful scenes can be
encountered. There are few, however where the combinations are so
delightful or the general views so attractive and varying.