THE PICTURESQUE REGION OF PIKE'S PEAK
"And ever the spell of beauty came
And turned the drowsy world to flame."
Emerson
In the picturesque region of Pike's Peak there is grouped such an array of scenic wonders as are unrivalled, within the limits of any corresponding area, in the entire world. To this region Colorado Springs is the gateway, and the poetic little city is already famous as one of the world resorts whose charm is not exclusively restricted to the summer. The winter is also alluring, for Colorado is the land of perpetual sunshine. One turns off the steam heat and sits with open windows in December. The air is electric, exhilarating. The cogwheel road up Pike's Peak is stopped; but almost any of the other excursions one can take as enjoyably as in summer. The East is, apparently, under the delusion that the land is covered with snow up to the very summit of Pike's Peak. On the contrary, the ground is bare and dry; the birds are singing, the sun shines for all, and the everlasting hills silhouette themselves against the blue sky in all their grandeur. One easily slips into all the charm and fascination of Colorado days through these resplendent winters, when there are two hours more of light and sunshine in Colorado, on account of its altitude, than in any state to the eastward. The climate of Colorado Springs has a perfection that is remarked even in the Centennial State, where, in every part, the climate is unsurpassed in sunshine and exhilaration. Especially, however, is Colorado Springs a summer resort, as is Saratoga or Newport or Bar Harbor. Its season is increasingly brilliant and crowded. People come to stay a day and prolong it to a week, or come for a week and prolong their stay to a month. The driving is fine, the motor cars are abundant, the excursions are delightful, and the air is as curative and exhilarating as is possible to conceive. The inner glories of the Rocky Mountains, with their vast cañons and giant peaks; their waterfalls dashing over precipices hundreds of feet in height; the fascinating glens and mesas for camping excursions, or for scientific research and study, are all reached by this gateway of Colorado Springs.
Pike's Peak, this stupendous continental monument, dominates the entire region. The atmospheric effects around its summit offer a perpetual panorama of kaleidoscopic changes of color and cloud-forms. Looking out on the Peak from Colorado Springs, three miles from its base, there are hours when it seems to be actually approaching with such swift though stately measure that one involuntarily shrinks back from the window in irrational alarm lest the grim monster shall bear down upon it, with a force inevitable as Fate; disastrous as a colossal iceberg wandering from Polar seas and sweeping down with irresistible force against the side of a transatlantic liner. In a lightning flash of instantaneous, unreasoning vision, one beholds in imagination the impending destruction of a city. It becomes a thing endowed with volition; a weird, uncanny monster, the abode of the gods who have reared their monuments and established their pleasure-grounds in their strange, fantastic garden at its foot.
Again, the Peak enfolds itself in clouds and, secure in this drapery, retires altogether from sight, as if weary of being the object of public view. It is as if the inmates of a house, feeling an invasion of public interest, should turn off the lights, draw the curtains, and close the shutters as a forcible intimation of their preference for privacy and their decision to exclude the madding crowd. Sometimes the Peak will flaunt itself in glorious apparel and gird itself in strength. With light it will deck itself as with a garment. It surprises a sunrise with the reflection of glory transfigured into unspeakable resplendence. It is the royal monarch to which every inhabitant of the Pike's Peak region, every sojourner in the land, must pay his tribute. The day is fair or foul according as Pike's Peak shall smile or frown. All the cycles of the eternal ages have left on its summit their records,—the silent and hidden romance of the air. The scientist alone may translate this aërial hieroglyphic.
"Omens and signs that fill the air
To him authentic witness bear."
This monumental peak of the continent shrouds in oblivion its mystic past, and still the handwriting on the wall may be read by him who holds the key to all this necromancy. The record of the ages is written on parchment that will never crumble. The mysteries of the very creation itself,—of all this vast and marvellous West,—of infinite expanse of sea and of volcanic fires that swallowed up the waters and crystallized them into granite and porphyry,—this very record of Titanic processes is written, in mystic characters, in that far upper air where the lofty Peak reigns in unapproachable majesty. For while there are other peaks in the Rocky Mountains as high,—and Long's Peak even exceeds it in altitude,—there is no other which rises so distinctly alone and which so supremely dominates an infinite plateau that extends, like the ocean, beyond the limit of vision.