WEDNESDAY, JUNE 2d.
All are up about the usual time this morning, and after breakfast Manager Wyman announces that those who wish to make the ascent of Pike’s Peak will take the 8.30 train on the Colorado Springs and Manitou Branch for Manitou, six miles away, where the Manitou and Pike’s Peak railway station is located. The 8.30 train starts with about half of our party on board. It is cloudy and we are afraid the weather will be unfavorable for the trip. When we arrive at the station in Manitou we can see that the great mountain is enveloped in fog and mist. We hesitate about going up, but the station agent receives a telephone message from the summit, saying the weather up there is clear, and the most of us decide to go. And when at 9.40 we start, I notice the occupants of the car and find the following members of our party aboard: Mr. and Mrs. Wyman, Mr. and Mrs. Maxwell, Mr. and Mrs. Layfield, Mr. and Mrs. Horner, Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Mr. and Mrs. Dougherty, Mr. and Mrs. Climenson, Mr. and Mrs. Foulon, Mr. and Mrs. Elder, Mr. and Mrs. Reilly, Mr. and Miss Barrett and a lady friend, Miss Emma Leibing; Mr. Reagan and a lady friend, Miss Jennie Heaney; Mrs. Mattson, Messrs. Waddington, Haas, Taylor, Crispen, Denniston, Moore, Williams, Sloane, Kilgore, Restein, and myself. The car is pushed by engine No. 4, in charge of Engineer D. M. Jones. This little locomotive is an odd-looking thing, built expressly for this line by the Baldwin Locomotive Works, of Philadelphia, Pa. It has four cylinders and carries 200 pounds steam pressure. It is constructed with two cog wheels underneath its centre, which operate in corresponding cog rails placed in the centre of the track, and has the appearance of being a strong and safe appliance. Engine and car are not coupled together, but the engine in the rear pushes the car ahead of it, which gives the tourist a fine, unobstructed view of the scenery.
The grade averages almost 900 feet to the mile, which we ascend at the rate of about five miles per hour. The road is almost nine miles in length and we are one hour and forty-five minutes making the ascent, having left
the station at Manitou at 9.40 and arriving at the summit at 11.25. We thought it was a slow trip and a tedious climb, but it wasn’t when we consider the experience of some other people in connection with this mountain several years ago. Ambition and desire are strong impulses in human nature, often having more influence than a sense of duty.
When Major Zebulon M. Pike first sighted this mountain that bears his name on the morning of November 13th, 1806, he had a burning desire to give it a close inspection, and led his followers a ten days’ rugged march before he reached its base. From this point he looked up to its apparently inaccessible snow-crowned summit, and concluded it would be impossible to scale its rocky, bouldered sides. Retiring from the locality, he reported that he “had discovered a grand mountain peak, bare of vegetation and covered with snow, but he believed that no human being could ever ascend to its pinnacle.”
When, thirteen years afterwards, on the morning of July 13th, 1819, Dr. Edwin James and his four comrades stood and gazed upon the terribly wild and awful grandeur of this mighty mountain peak, they faced the same conditions that caused the intrepid Pike to turn his back upon the scene and withdraw: perpendicular cliffs whose walls no man can climb, enormous rocks and giant boulders impossible to remove or surmount, great chasms that cannot be crossed or bridged, deep, wild ravines that seem to be impenetrable. All this they saw, yet they did not hesitate, for they were filled with a wild ambition and burning desire to accomplish what Pike had not dared to undertake. So they started, and after two days of perilous hardship and toil they reached the summit, on July 14th, 1819.
Their ambition was gratified, and so is ours. We did not come up for pleasure, for there is no pleasure in it; the novelty of the thing brought us here, and we find it novel enough. We wanted to stand on the apex of these snow-bound, wind-swept, zero-blistered heights, 14,147 feet above the beating billows of the sea, and see what it is like. We are finding out; it is colder than Chestnut Hill in midwinter. The snow is six feet deep and the wind whistles a tune as it sweeps through Colonel Layfield’s whiskers. The sun is shining when we get out of the car, and with the snow whirling down our backs and tears streaming from our eyes we spend three minutes looking down upon the far-away valley scenery and the towns of Manitou and Colorado Springs. Then we enter the old Government signal station, which has been turned into a curio shop, telegraph office, post office, and restaurant. We find the temperature more congenial, and put in the time examining and purchasing novelties which are neither valuable or cheap, but are wanted for souvenirs. We buy postal cards at ten cents each and mail them to friends, and send telegrams at five cents per word. Manager Wyman sends a dispatch to Ticket Receiver Stackhouse, Philadelphia, informing him of our whereabouts and condition, but he couldn’t tell it all. The message didn’t tell how near Waddie was to being fired off the train at Hell Gate because he couldn’t find his ticket, as Restein had it in his pocket; nor how eager Sloane was to chase the badger we saw running over the rocks above Timber Line, but the conductor wouldn’t stop the train to let him off.
We have got enough of Pike’s Peak and are ready to go, but the engine is away with the snow plow and we will have to wait for its return. We have seen all there is to be seen and have bought what souvenirs we want. My last purchase was a tissue-paper napkin; I gave thirty cents for it, but had a cup of coffee and a sandwich thrown in. Our engine has returned and we go out to get in the car. The sun is hidden by a great dark cloud, the wind blows harder than ever, and the car is locked up. A photographer is on hand with his outfit and wants to take a picture; somebody ought to throw him over the precipice. We are huddled about the end of the car like a tempest-stricken flock outside a sheepfold gate, shivering and shaking in the blast. As the picture fiend adjusts the camera it begins to snow; in thirty seconds we are in a raging blizzard, the instrument snaps and the car door is unlocked, but before we all get inside many of us are covered with snow.
We are in the storm until we get below Timber Line, and the force of the wind drives the snow across the car as it sifts through the ventilators and in around the windows, and some of us are feeling pretty groggy. I do not like the sensation; when I speak I talk through my hat, and my ear drums feel ready to burst. When I go up so high again I want to go to stay; there may be such a thing as becoming acclimated.
The descent is made in a careful manner, with the engine in front. We arrive safely in Manitou at 1.40 P. M., and the party scatters. Some return to Colorado Springs and some drive through the Garden of the Gods. Many who did not ascend the peak have had a good time visiting other interesting places, and tell interesting stories of the remarkable things they saw. The little burros or donkeys are in evidence everywhere, and several of our people got their photos taken seated on these cute little animals with the Balance Rock in the background. Some of the timid ladies of our party, I am told, are shy of these meek little creatures, saying they look fierce and dangerous because their ears are so large. The only danger is in their hind feet, for they can kick very quick and hard, injuring one another sometimes in this way when they get to frolicking, which they often do.
Brother Schuler was in one of the carriages that drove through the “Garden of the Gods” to-day, and it is interesting to hear him relate in his inimitable manner the many curious things to be seen. A heavy thunder and hail storm descended upon Manitou this afternoon, with another blizzard on the peak, and the weather has become quite cool. Mrs. E. T. Postlewaite took dinner with us to-day as a guest of Brother and Mrs. Springer. Our people are scattered this evening, amusing themselves in various ways. Brothers Brown, Horner, and myself take a stroll after dinner. We stop at the Antlers Hotel, that is well worth a visit, being one of the finest-equipped hotels we have seen in our travels.
We were introduced to the chief of police of the city and kindly shown the large, interesting, and gruesome collection in the Rogues’ Gallery, pictures of some of the most noted crooks and renegades that ever infested the West, along with weapons and tools of all descriptions that were used in their murderous and nefarious business. One set of burglar implements, in particular, containing one hundred and fifty-five pieces, that had been
captured from a suspect by the name of Jerome Markle, we find very interesting; it is said to be the largest and most complete burglar’s outfit ever captured. Returning to the train about 9.30, we are glad to meet W. E. Frenaye, Esq., city editor of the Colorado Springs Gazette, who has dropped in on us for a friendly chat. Mr. Frenaye was connected with Assistant General Passenger Agent Boyd’s office at one time, and is an old friend of Brother Maxwell. Being scheduled to leave here at 2 o’clock A. M., we all turn in at a reasonable hour.