MANITOU, THE MIGHTY!
[Illustration: THE SEAL AND BEAR, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]
The glory of Colorado, in the splendor of its waterfalls, the
awesomeness of its mountains, the wealth of its mines, and the
picturesqueness of its natural parks, is by no means confined to those
Rocky Mountain districts which we have just pictured and described, for
greater marvels remain to be spoken of, and pictorially represented.
Returning to Denver, our tour took us southward, across a plain that
hugs the gnarled bosom of the Continental Divide, by the pearl of Palmer
Lake, and on to Colorado Springs and Manitou, the twin cities that sit
at the feet of Pike’s Peak. Here we are compelled to pause in a spell of
mighty wonderment before the amazing prodigies of a riotously eccentric
nature, that bursts into an exuberance of dashing cascades, top-lofty
mountains, darkling cañons, gruesome formations, monolithic spires,
babbling brooks and magnetic springs. Here are God’s acres of tumultuous
stone, grand, amazing, chaotic, aberrant; a pantheon of forces, a Jovian
council, a mythologic assemblage that sits like a Sanhedrim on the
issues of Titanic upheaval, erosion, conglomeration and elemental
disturbance. There, rising like a giant specter above its lesser
brothers, and dipping its hoary head into the milky baldric of the
heavens, stands Pike’s Peak, the grand old sentinel of millenniums, with
sides gashed by tumbling cataracts and yellow with quivering leaves of
the frosted aspen. So lofty that the stars can almost whisper to it, and
the clouds, when tired of sailing through the sky, circle and settle
upon its peak, while eternal night sleeps undisturbed, save by the
lion’s call, in the deep gorges that split its base.
The first white man who caught sight of this towering mountain was
Lieutenant Zebulon Pike, who was sent out by the Government in the year
1806 to make an exploration of the Territory of Louisiana and the
Provinces of New Spain, a district now characterized as the great
Southwest. From his diary of Saturday, November 15th, 1806, we quote the
description of his discovery:
[Illustration: THE STALACTITE ORGAN, GRAND CAVERNS.]
“Passed two deep creeks, and many high points of rocks; also large herds
of buffaloes. At two o’clock in the afternoon I thought I could
distinguish a mountain to our right, which appeared like a small blue
cloud; viewed it with the spy-glass and was still more confirmed in my
conjecture, and in half an hour it appeared in full view before us. When
our small party arrived on the hill, they with one accord gave three
cheers to the Mexican Mountains.”
On the 26th, following, this intrepid explorer attempted an ascent of
Cheyenne Mountain, ten miles to the east of Pike’s Peak, from which to
make an observation of the more lofty eminence, which he thus describes:
“Expecting to return to our camp that evening, we left all our blankets
and provisions at the foot of the mountain, killed a deer of a new
species, and hung its skin on a tree with some meat. We commenced
ascending; found the way very difficult, being obliged to climb up rocks
sometimes almost perpendicular; and after marching all day we encamped
in a cave without blankets, victuals or water. We had a fine clear sky
while it was snowing at the bottom. On the side of the mountain we found
only yellow and pitch pine; some distance up we saw buffalo, and higher
still, the new species of deer and pheasants.
“Thursday, 27th November.—Arose hungry, thirsty, and extremely sore,
from the uneveness of the rocks on which we had lain all night; but we
were amply compensated for our toil by the sublimity of the prospect
below. The unbounded prairie was overhung with clouds, which appeared
like the ocean in a storm, wave piled on wave, and foaming, whilst the
sky over our heads was perfectly clear. Commenced our march up the
mountain and in about an hour arrived at the summit of this chain; here
we found the snow middle-deep, and discovered no sign of bird or beast
inhabiting this region. The thermometer, which stood at nine degrees
above zero at the foot of the mountain, here fell to four degrees below.
The summit of the Grand Peak, which was entirely bare of vegetation, and
covered with snow, now appeared at the distance of fifteen or sixteen
miles from us, and as high again as we had ascended. It would have taken
a whole day’s march to have arrived at its base, whence I believe no
human being could have ascended to its summit. * * * * The clouds from
below had now ascended the mountain, and entirely enveloped the summit,
on which rest eternal snows.”
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[Illustration: CATHEDRAL SPIRES, GARDEN OF THE GODS, COLORADO.]
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[Illustration: JUMBO TUNNEL, GRAND CAVERNS.]
Being convinced in his own mind of its inaccessibility, Lieutenant Pike
contented himself with the above brief notes in his diary, little
thinking that his name would become perpetuated in the discovery, and
that for all the ages thereafter Pike’s Peak would be one of the most
famous of American mounts.
Not again was the lonely desolation of the mountain, or the marvelous
scenery about its base, disturbed by the invasion of explorers until,
forty-one years later, Geo. F. Ruxton came as a hunter to view its
grandeur and make his camp within its game-haunted shadows. Soon
afterwards gold was discovered in the vicinity, and then quickly
followed a rush of adventurers whose hardy spirit accomplished that
which Pike was fearful to undertake. An ascent of the peak was now made
and the altitude ascertained to be 14,174 feet above the sea level.
Simultaneously, through the exploration of industrious prospectors, all
the many amazingly curious formations which now render the region one of
incomparable natural marvels were discovered, and the settlements of
Manitou and Colorado Springs were presently made.
Pike’s Peak has been, since the time of Ruxton’s ascent, an object of
great interest to travelers, and as early as 1852 a rough foot-trail was
established to the summit, which was greatly improved twenty years later
so as to admit the passage of vehicles. In the meantime, the towns of
Manitou and Colorado Springs had grown steadily and the number of
visitors increased until some one conceived the idea of constructing a
railroad from the base to the summit. This idea was seized upon by some
eastern capitalists in 1884, and a large capital being subscribed for
the purpose, the work of building this unique road was begun. The
original company, however, met with difficulties which they were unable
to overcome for lack of capital, and in 1888 a second organization,
under the title of Manitou & Pike’s Peak Railway Company, succeeded the
first corporation, and adopting what is known as the Abt Cog-wheel
System of Mountain Climbing, renewed the work thus interrupted. As the
higher altitudes were reached the air became so rare that labor was
extremely difficult, so that the strongest men were unable to exert
themselves for more than a few minutes at a time. In place of wagons
burros were employed to carry on their sturdy little backs all the
needful materials of ties, rails, tools and spikes, up the steep
mountain side, and without them the obstacles would have been
insuperable. But thus the work went on until the 20th of October, 1890,
when the last spike was driven and the highest railroad in the world
received its finishing stroke. Special locomotives and cars were built
and by the use of cog-wheels the pinnacle of Pike’s Peak was thereafter
to be gained comfortably, if not swiftly. The length of the road leading
to the summit is nine and one-quarter miles, and at times the grade
seems positively appalling (being 25 per cent.) as the noisily-laboring
engine pushes the passenger coach up the devious way, over great
bowlders that have been flung down by some Titan from immense heights
above; under overhanging brows of threatening cathedrals of stone; over
mad-dashing waterfalls; through ever-green forests of silver pines, then
into groves of dwarf aspens, until at length the route reaches up and on
above the timber line. The steepness of the way still continues, but
there are no longer abutting rocks, nor rush of water; the mountain now
becomes a measureless pile of broken stones, between which the chipmunk
and woodchuck play hide and seek; mists of clouds begin to gather, the
snow line shows itself beyond the breath of summer, and a cold wind
rushes around the peak making sport of the enterprise that invaded their
frigid solitude.
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[Illustration:
THE CARRIAGE ROAD UP PIKE’S PEAK.—Since the completion of the cog-
wheel railway to the summit of Pike’s Peak, the older carriage road
is not so much used as in former times; yet it is still preferred by
many tourists who travel for pleasure or to gratify their love for
the grand and the beautiful in nature. Those who have the time to
adopt this slower method of climbing the mountain will be richly
repaid for their trouble in the glorious view that bursts upon them
at every turn of the winding way. A journey over this carriage road,
either up or down, is an event to be remembered throughout the
remainder of one’s lifetime.
]
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[Illustration: TEMPLE OF ISIS, WILLIAM’S CAÑON.]
After two hours of pushing and climbing the train ceases its deep
respirations and stands seemingly exhausted before the stone observatory
that crowns the peak. Ah, now what a view, when the clouds pass away and
the sun bathes with golden splendor the panorama that lies in the
greater charm of indistinctness many leagues below! Towards the west and
south and north is a mighty army of mountains, in companies and
battalions, bold, rugged, majestic; always standing in review before the
Captain and Creator of worlds who seems to have halted His regiment for
inspection before an impending battle; while away towards the east
spreads the fading prairies, losing themselves in the horizon; and down
below, in a long stretch of landscape, is Colorado Springs, with its
intersecting streets looking like a corn-field, and its smoke-stacks
like scare-crows.
At other times a terrible snow-storm may be raging on the peak, while
summer sunshine bathes the plains below; or, standing under the arch of
a clear sky, the summit visitor may see the rolling clouds gathering
into scrolls of darkness, and the livid lightning running through the
storm that is breaking in torrential rain away down the mountain side.
So that winter and summer, storm and sunshine, have their eternal
meeting place on the age-swept breast of this giant peak, and at this
trysting place of the extreme seasons is one of the most beautiful lakes
that ever nestled in the bosom of a mountain.
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[Illustration: THE JAWS OF CLEAR CREEK CAÑON.]
[Illustration: WILLIAMS CAÑON, NEAR THE CAVE OF THE WINDS.]
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[Illustration: PILLAR OF JUPITER, WILLIAM’S CAÑON.]
One of the most picturesque, grand and charming routes in the world is
Ute Pass, which starts out of Manitou and climbs around mountains,
through cañons, and emerges into a roadway that leads direct to
Leadville. The most beautiful section of this pass, however, is in sight
of Manitou, where it rises with bold precipitation around the mountain
side and passes Rainbow Falls, which has a perpendicular descent of
seventy-five feet, and looks down into Cascade Cañon, that is weirdly
wild and awesomely imposing. The beauty of the pass is not more in the
rugged margin, bordered with precipice and waterfall, than in the
marvelous coloring of the roadway and abutting rocks of sandstone which
at a distance appear like the petrified primaries of the rainbow wrapped
around the mountain.
As the road winds upward a mile from Manitou, a branch strikes off from
Ute Pass, and continuing another half mile around and up the mountain
the visitor finds the way abruptly terminated by the entrance to a giant
cave known as the Grand Caverns. Like most places to which visitors are
attracted by flamboyant advertisements, these caves are not so wonderful
as they have been represented, yet they possess considerable interest.
The corridors are spacious and comparatively level, with here and there
formations of stalactites and stalagmites of considerable beauty, though
never large. Each compartment has been given a romantic and attractive
name intended to increase the imagination, and give support to the
marvelous tales with which guides entertain visitors, such as Canopy
Avenue, Alabaster Hall, Stalactite Hall, Opera House, Concert Hall,
Jewel Casket, Bridal Chamber, etc. The one principal object of interest
in the Grand Caverns—a curiosity indeed—is what has been denominated the
“Grand Pipe Organ of Musical Stalactites,” a formation which gives forth
a great variety of sounds, capable, under the skilful touch of a player,
of producing really ear-entrancing music. An “organist” is employed to
entertain visitors by performing many familiar instrumental pieces,
which, emanating from such a strange instrument, and echoing through the
torch-lighted chambers of the grotto, produce a charming effect not
easily forgotten.
In another compartment, particularly dark, if not noisome, and
partitioned off by a grating to prevent profanation, are deposited some
very ancient skeletons, which are said to have been found inurned here
by the original cave discoverer in 1881. The photographer, by a trick,
has pictured these bones as gigantic in size, whereas in fact they are
slightly smaller than those of modern men.
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[Illustration:
TRIPLE FALLS, CHEYENNE CAÑON, COLORADO.—It would be exceedingly
difficult to find a more gloriously beautiful scene than the one
depicted by the photograph on this page. The pleasure of beholding
it is also greatly increased by the assurance that it is absolutely
true to nature, for the camera cannot misrepresent. Cheyenne Cañon
is one of the wrinkles that sears the face of Cheyenne Mountain,
some five or six miles east of Pike’s Peak, and both cañon and
mountain are even more celebrated than their famous neighbor for the
wildness and picturesque beauty of their scenery. This region is the
Switzerland of America, except that its scenery surpasses that of
Switzerland in the same proportion that America is larger and
grander than the sturdy little republic of the Alps.
]
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A half-mile further around the mountain, towards William’s Cañon, and
approached by a long stair-way that leads down to a dusky, rock-hewn
platform, is the entrance to the “Cave-of-the-Winds,” as unforbidding a
place as Mephistopheles himself could choose for his abode. This cave is
nothing more than a tunnel, too narrow to admit the passage of a fat man
without squeezing, and with ceilings so low as to compel a person of
ordinary height to keep a stooped position. It is up and down steep
stair-ways, across chasms of uncertain depths, and over obstructions
which are quite enough to exhaust the visitor before half the cavern is
traversed. The stalactites that are found here are very small, but often
clustered in resemblance of chrysanthemums and other composite plants.
Like the Grand Caverns, every little chamber in the Cave-of-the-Winds is
designated by some curious or charm-impelling name, such as Cascade
Hall, Canopy Hall, Boston Avenue, Diamond Hall, Hall of Beauty, Dante’s
Inferno, Crystal Palace, etc.; while the coral-like stalagmites are
represented by the tricky photographer as being of imposing size and
bewildering splendor.
[Illustration: ANVIL ROCK, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]
Emerging from the stifling, half-artificial Cave-of-the-Winds, and
passing down the hill a few yards, a magnificent view of William’s Cañon
bursts upon the enraptured vision of the spectator, the contrast from
the dismal and disappointing cave lending additional sublimity to the
scene. The south entrance to this herculean gorge is within a short walk
of Manitou, and at the very door-way the walls rise up perpendicularly
to a stupendous height and in fantastic forms that positively bewilder
with a grandeur and beauty almost unexcelled by any scenery in the
world. This gigantic gash in the mountain is evidently the effect of
erosion, the result of a rushing torrent that drove down for centuries
through the pass until it wore out a bed hundreds of feet deep and then
found other outlet, or became absorbed in the process of drying-up which
the world is undergoing. High upon the sides of this wondrous channel
may be seen the distinct markings of glacial drift in deposits of shell-
fish and bowlders, while in the bed there are fragments of tufa,
betraying the action of volcanic fires which burned out ages upon ages
ago.
Two miles north of Manitou, and reached by a perfect roadway, over which
carriage driving is a supreme pleasure, is the gate-way to that
chaotically curious and fantastically marvelous district known as the
Garden of the Gods. I know not who gave name to this region of grotesque
formations, but its appropriateness lends belief that it was christened
by one who had in mind the heroes of some eastern mythology, the
Assyrian or Chinese, or the witchcrafts of the Samians. The Greeks, the
Romans, and Egyptians conceived their gods as physically perfect,
symmetrically beautiful; the idols of these people could never have
suggested the wild, distorted, conglomerate forms that are marshalled in
this garden of sweet confusion. Yet, the Greeks personified evil in
horrid forms, and we have here their conception of deep iniquity done in
nature’s sculpturings.
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[Illustration:
RAINBOW FALLS, UTE PASS.—Winding its serpentine way up the side of the
mountain to the right of Pike’s Peak, is Ute Pass, along which a
carriage-way has been made. The scenery is incomparably grand and
beautiful. The pass has been cut in the side of the mountain by
centuries of washings from the little stream that seeks its level by
this course, breaking into numerous waterfalls and lending an
additional charm to the picturesque surroundings by the music of its
rushing waters. Rainbow Falls, so splendidly reproduced on this
page, is one of the most celebrated and inspiring of the numerous
cataracts to be found in this locality.
]
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[Illustration: TOWER OF BABEL, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]
The old legends tell us of the Sabbat, a nocturnal assembly at which
demons and sorcerers celebrated their revels, and to the imaginative
mind, stored with remembrances of the tales wherein are described the
riot of nameless things and loathsomely fearful personages around the
throne of Satan, it is easy to fancy this spot as the assembling place,
and the strange forms of stone, that sit like dumb monstrosities waiting
the call of a master, as the bodies of maleficent devils petrified in
the very midst of their orgies. There on that mound squats old
Sagittary, the man-beast who shot arrows of lightning from his bow,
until he was struck down by a bolt of his own forging. A little beyond
is the foul witch Sycorax, the dam of Caliban, whose raven wings shelter
a demoniac progeny. In that depression, which looks afar like a seething
quagmire, sits Abaddon, the promoter of wars, combustions and plagues,
his face awry with fretful anxiety to renew his course of destruction.
Behind a mound, that may well be called a breastwork, stand Ægæon,
Cottus and Gyges, the brother triplets, each with a hundred arms and
fifty heads, who made war upon the Titans and then stormed Olympus with
stones plucked from the core of Ætna. Still further up the hillside,
protruding from a gash in the side of a giant bowlder of red sandstone,
is the distorted face of Hagen, that demon dwarf of a single eye, whose
devilish claws tore out the heart of Siegfried. Everywhere, to the right
and left, are these garish and ghastly remembrancers of the tales that
make children crouch closer to grandmother’s knees, and people the
darkness with forms infuriate. But the comical side is not wanting; for
nature is protean in this godless garden of quaint conceits done in
stone. If we have cause to laugh, it is at the Brobdingnagian frog that
we see to the left of the door of the garden, sitting beneath a
mushroom, with his gaze towards the mountain. But there is a whole
settlement of giant fungi, each capable of giving shelter to a pond-full
of modern-day frogs; and we can only explain the absence of other
representatives of the croaking batrachia by the possibility that the
one who has his home under the petrified umbrella was a political boss
in his time and compelled all his followers to remain out in the rain
when the big wet spell set in. On the first rock that we pass as we
enter the garden, is the perfect outline of a stag’s head, with antlers
laid back and nose high, as if startled by the sudden baying of the
hounds; while a few yards within the entrance is a huge stone of two
hundred tons weight perched like a spinning top upon the shoulder of
another, so nicely balanced that every wind seems to threaten its
stability, and yet centuries have failed to disturb its equilibrium.
Still further on, and to the left, are to be seen a duck complete in all
its outlines, and as demure as though she was hatching a brood. Then in
succession is shown an alligator stretched out at full length, taking a
siesta as natural as though it had life. Next in this procession of
statuary wonders are Punch and Judy, peaceful folks in vermilion
raiment, with faces full of righteous satisfaction, as if they were on
their way to church. Punch’s cap is a little the worse for the long
service it has seen, and Judy has a rent in her gown, but they affect no
false pride and are evidently content with their fortune. Why should
they not be happy, when within a few yards of them there is a poor old
washer-woman bending over a tub, and a child tugging at her skirts?
Certainly by contrast their lot is infinitely more bearable. And the
washer-woman has been at her hard task as long as Punch and Judy have
been on their way to the meeting house.
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[Illustration:
OBSERVATORY ON THE SUMMIT OF PIKE’S PEAK.—The Observatory is built of
stones collected from the immediate vicinity. It occupies the
highest point on the mountain, and was erected by the Government as
a home for the officers who are employed in taking meteorological
observations. It is a stormy region, and a place of unrest. Many
tourists assert that snow falls here every day in the year, but
while this is not literally true it is always cold enough to snow,
even when the valleys at the foot of the mountains are sweltering in
an August sun. The altitude is so great that tourists frequently
faint before reaching the top, and in other instances blood is
forced from the nostrils and mouth by the terrible pressure of the
atmosphere.
]
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[Illustration: UTE PASS, NEAR MANITOU.]
As we advance further into this museum of wonders, and turn our eyes
away from the imps, reptiles and broad-smiling people of stone, our gaze
is arrested by still stranger freaks of nature. There, before us, in
awful sublimity, is the red sentinel who guards the north portals of the
garden, flanked on either side by cathedrals and fortresses of amazing
size, and aflame with brilliant coloring. There are thin slabs of
sandstone standing on edge and lifting their heads a hundred feet high,
on which the gods or witches have sculptured images of birds, animals,
and moving caravans. A herculean lion is crouching on the peak of one,
looking towards the north, where a bear and seal are eyeing each other
from a lofty perch, uncertain of their safety, and undetermined whether
to attack or retreat. Away up on the pinnacle of another peak sits a
little old man in a rusty coat, but semi-respectable in a plug hat, very
intently contemplating a coach-and-four driven by a pioneer stage
engineer muffled to the chin in a shag overcoat, and bowling along over
the dangerous comb of the Tower of Babel. Turning to look back, our
sight is arrested by the towering form of Pike’s Peak, and a view that
is incomparably and overwhelmingly grand.
Leaving the Garden of the Gods, and passing massive hills of gypsum,
virgin in their whiteness and soft velvety reflection, the roadway north
lies through a large prairie-dog village, where scores of wish-ton-
wishes, of Indian name, scamper through the grass and lift themselves
into comical postures on their little mounds to watch the carriage roll
by. To the left is Glen Eyrie, where a few disaffected gods seem to have
started a small, independent park of wonders, chief of which is Major
Domo, a monolith of red sandstone thirty feet in circumference and more
than one hundred feet tall; a frowning shaft with slightly inclined
head, as if threatening the lesser forms about its base.
Five miles still beyond, nature has opened another museum of surprises,
which some human invader has named Monument Park, but which might better
be called Fiddler’s Green, or the Devil’s Ante-Chamber, for tradition
tells us that the former place is located just five miles this side of
Hades, and that all fiddlers en route stop there twenty minutes for
refreshments. This assembling place of monstrosities; this parliament of
satyr, sibyl, succuba and grim-visaged ogres, is rarely visited, not
particularly because the sights superinduce nightmare, but probably
because it is at the end of a long and dusty way, and the gruesome
formations are not numerous. The views which delight those who love to
fellowship with the incongruous and distempered products of nature, are
pillars of white—almost calcareous—sandstone which the wind and sand
have eroded into fantastic and outre shapes, leaving a top layer of dark
limestone to complete the multitude of strange images.
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[Illustration:
GATEWAY TO GARDEN OF THE GODS.—The next best thing to seeing a thing
itself is to see its counterpart in a good photograph. Any one who
has ever looked at an object through a camera will realize the force
of this assertion, for a photograph is a perfect reproduction of the
view as it is reflected in the camera. There cannot be any
misrepresentation. Hence a good photograph is far more valuable than
a painting or a drawing, let the latter be ever so well done, for
the best artist that ever lived cannot draw or paint a scene just as
nature made it. We see these facts clearly illustrated in this
beautiful photograph. Every line, crevice and indentation of the
huge rocks is brought out and stamped upon the printed page, while
in the distance we observe the snow-covered summit of Pike’s Peak
just as thousands of tourists have seen it with their natural
vision.
]
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[Illustration: THE DUTCH WEDDING, MONUMENT PARK.]
Here we find the Devil’s Anvil, apparently used by his swarthy majesty
in the dim ages in fashioning his roasting spits. And near by is a
concourse attending what is known as The Dutch Wedding, where all the
goodly company are disattired outrageously, for not one has a stitch to
his or her back. But they are more decent folks than old Mother Grundy,
who stands in a nook to herself, trying to gossip with her shabby
surroundings, and looking for all the world like a hag who has lost her
teeth through salivation. Not far below her is The Idiot, as repulsive
appearing a fellow as ever violated the laws of nature, and who might
well be the offspring of a harridan like Mrs. Grundy. But there are
other shapes and misshapes scarcely less wonderful; and if the visitor
is at all imaginative, they take forms that are variable and astounding.
Doré never pictured creatures of his fancy more weird than the wind-
sculptures of Monument Park.
Turning back, and passing south of Colorado Springs some four or five
miles, we are brought again into the Rocky range and enter at one of the
Cheyenne Cañons, between beetling brows of tremendously high cliffs,
through which a mad-dashing water-course has eaten its way. Whether we
visit North or South Cañon, the view is augustly sublime and awful in
its grandeur. We stand in the bed of the gorge and gaze upward on either
side to a dizzy height, where the eagles float lazily about, just below
the level of the summit, and build their nest upon the breast of the
escarpment because the apex is sky-piercing in its loftiness. Yet
tumbling down from that great eminence, where the gray spires of the
peaks are dwarfed by distance until they grow thin as needles, is a
stream of water, fed by springs that lie in the lap of still taller
mountains in the rear, rushing in tumultuous flow until it breaks into
seven waterfalls, and then checks its pace as it joins the river that
runs on to the sea. A stair-way has been built alongside of the falls,
by which the visitor may mount to a height of two hundred feet, and then
stand upon a platform and watch the play of leaping waterfall as it
breaks into rainbows and mist below, and hear its ceaseless song of
praise mingling with the echoes that sport between the cañon walls. They
who can feel no inspiration under the moving power of Cheyenne Mountain
are hopelessly prosaic, who close their ears against the most entrancing
hymns of nature.
It is not strange that the simple people who were reared centuries ago
in this cradle of natural wonders entertained strange conceptions of the
curious formations and mighty mountains that distinguished their
surroundings from other places. Indeed, it would be matter for surprise
had the primitive tribes of this region left no legends telling how
Manitou, the Great Spirit, had upheaved the peaks, fashioned the
grotesque images, scooped out the cañons and set his sign of ever-
flowing mercy in the welling spring and roaring waterfall.
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[Illustration:
BALANCED ROCK, GARDEN OF THE GODS.—Balanced Rock is one of the most
remarkable curiosities in the Garden of the Gods. It is an immense
stone, weighing thousands of tons, balanced upon so small a pedestal
that it seems as if the hand of a child could push it over, and yet
the winter storms and the summer cyclones have raged around it for
centuries without shaking it from its solid bearings. Nature does
many things more wonderful than art or ingenuity of man can devise,
and this is one of them. If Balanced Rock were the only curiosity in
the Garden of the Gods it would be worth a trip there to see it, and
as many of us are not able to bear the expense of such a trip it is
gratifying to have within our reach, almost without cost, the living
image of these wonders of nature.
]
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[Illustration: THE DEVIL’S TOOTH, CHEYENNE CAÑON.]
[Illustration: VULCAN’S ANVIL, MONUMENT PARK.]
Among the several traditions which are preserved, we have the fragments
of the following, which appear to have been left by the Toltecs, who
undoubtedly at one time had their dwelling place in the Manitou
district: A certain tribe, whose name is forgotten, living somewhere on
the great plains towards the east, were driven from their homes by a
mighty flood, and hearing that lofty mountains lay several days’ journey
towards the setting sun, they fled to these for refuge. Having thus
escaped the fury of what they believed was an angry god, and found
safety under the benign shadow of Pike’s Peak, they came to regard it as
the dwelling place of Manitou, and instituted a form of worship as an
evidence of their gratitude. The climate being healthful and the region
abounding with game, this tribe prospered and so increased in power that
they made war on their less fortunate neighbors and reduced them to
slavery. In other ways they so offended Manitou that, having once saved
them from a deluge that drowned a large part of the world, he would now
punish them with another flood visitation. And so the windows of heaven
were opened, and the rain poured down in such volume that the valley was
soon overflowed, and the rising waters began to rapidly climb the
mountain sides. Perceiving that the deluge was an infliction sent upon
them for their sins, the tribe gathered all of their possessions and
with them hastened to ascend Pike’s Peak—which no one before had ever
attained—to make an offering to the Great Spirit of all that they had,
with the hope of propitiating his anger. All the members of the tribe
succeeded in reaching the summit, where they prayed so fervently that
the heart of Manitou relented and he consented to save the people by
admitting them into heaven. But he would receive none of their earthly
possessions, and these were accordingly thrown down and in time were
changed into stone, so that by the accretion of the burdens thus
rejected, the mountain became much higher than nature had formed it. The
deluge was finally assuaged by a dragon which Manitou unchained from a
huge rock in heaven, where it was kept prisoner, and sent down to drink
up all the water. This dragon never came back to heaven, for after
abating the flood it was turned into stone and laid on Cheyenne
Mountain, where its crocodilian form may still be recognized by an
observer stationed at Colorado Springs.
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[Illustration: MAJOR DOMO, GLEN EYRIE.]
[Illustration: NEEDLE ROCKS, GARDEN OF THE GODS.]
The two photographs on this page furnish us additional evidence of the
wonders and beauties of the scenic region embraced by the Garden of the
Gods and that immediate locality. There is no other place in the world
like it. Nature has run riot here in the manufacture of strange and
curious things. But the names which have been bestowed by chance upon
these curiosities are not always appropriate. Needle Rocks, for
instance, hear a much stronger resemblance to the ruins of some ancient
cathedral than they do to the useful and pointed instrument whose name
has been unadvisedly bestowed upon them. It is quite probable, however,
that the bold pioneer who first beheld and named them was more familiar
with needles than castles and cathedrals, and we can afford to let the
misnomer pass with the assurance that it was given in good faith, and it
certainly does not lessen the pleasure of beholding the object.
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[Illustration: MEDICINE ROCK, MONUMENT PARK.]
In after times, a new tribe came into the valley, and finding it
fruitful and inviting, they established their homes and prospered so
well that they soon grew mighty. For a long while no people were so
grateful and devout, so worshipful and kindly as they; but power always
begets arrogance, and in time these favored people became filled with
conceit and began to esteem themselves as the equals of Manitou and to
defy his power. This so offended the Great Spirit that he sent a mighty
host of monsters out of the north to punish the vain bigots who thus
contemned him. But some of the priests of the people had remained true
in their devotion, and these now interposed with Manitou and made many
offerings and sacrifices to appease his wrath. They so far prevailed
that many of the people also purged their hearts of all iniquity, and
Manitou was propitiated. As the host of monsters came swooping down,
like an army of invincible Centaurs, suddenly Pike’s Peak appeared as if
on fire, and the face of the Great Spirit was visible above it, shining
with a splendor greater than the sun. On the next instant that invading
army of satyrs and gorgons was changed to stone, and it is their bodies
that stand, and lie, and posture in strange incongruity in the Garden of
the Gods, Glen Eyrie, Bear Athol and Fiddler’s Green.
Many other legends are told to account for the singular formations, but
none are so old and often repeated as the one here related. The region
was certainly regarded by the early people who occupied it as possessing
supernatural features, a fact attested not alone by the traditions so
carefully preserved, but by rude carvings found on pieces of shale dug
up in the valley, and winged images carved from gypsum, which appear to
be very crude representations of a conception of preternatural
creatures. These relics, however, are very few, and by many are
pronounced spurious, so that it would be treading on doubtful ground to
attempt to introduce evidence of the faith imposed by the Toltecs in
such legends, or how they sought to perpetuate them. It is sufficient,
therefore, to accept the curiosities that are in this wonderful garden
merely as strange freaks of nature, without considering the tales handed
down from a questionable source, pretending to show that the formations
are the results of supernatural causes.
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[Illustration: THE IDIOT, MONUMENT PARK.]
[Illustration: MOTHER GRUNDY, MONUMENT PARK.]
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[Illustration: PHANTOM FALLS, NORTH CHEYENNE CAÑON.]
[Illustration: CASTLE FALLS, NORTH CHEYENNE CAÑON.]
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[Illustration: HELL GATE, AUSABLE CHASM.]
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