Pikes Peak is a mountain in Colorado, near the town of Colorado Springs. It’s a Fourteener, meaning the peak is above 14,000 feet, or 4,267 meters. This is a curious American affectation, perhaps a 14er sounds more impressive than a 4.267er. There are 96 peaks known as 14er in the US, 53 of them in Colorado. The state with the next biggest number is Alaska, with 29. Some of the 14ers in Colorado have high difficulty ratings. Not so Pikes Peak. In fact, you can drive to the top in the comfort of your car, or take a cog railway from Manitou Springs, just outside Colorado Springs.
If you hike, there are two routes: Barr Trail and Crags Trail. These take slightly longer than a car ride. Barr approaches from the town of Manitou Springs, Crags from the other side, requiring drive to the trailhead from Colorado Springs where we’d rented a house for a few days.
In May 2022, I hiked up Crags Trail to Pikes Peak with three friends. It was one of the toughest hikes in my life so far. Each time I push myself to a new hiking challenge, I learn things about myself—some good, some bad. Still, each other new challenge brings newer unknowns, and while you can prepare somewhat in theory, the actual practice of the hike is far, far different from what you read or hear from others.
Our hike took place in May, only a few days before the Crags campground opened to the public. This meant parking about a mile before the actual trailhead, walking around the barrier, and hiking up the dirt road. We left our rented house at 4:15am, arrived at the parking lot at 5am and started the hike 15 minutes later, before the break of dawn. At this point, we’re already above 9,000 feet, so the ascent means we’re only gaining just over 5,000 feet. Hiking Barr Trail means starting at around 6,500 feet, so a much bigger elevation gain. Still, it’s easy to forget you still have eight or so miles to walk from the car to the peak. You think at the start that you can cover three miles in an hour. You are quickly proven wrong.
The first part until the tree-line is relatively easy. You follow a trail that winds through forest and continually climbs, but at a manageable pace. Once we reached the tree-line, which is around 11,000 to 12,000 feet, we started to feel the wind. There were two short windbreaks around the area known as Devil’s Playground, so named for how the lighting jumps from rock to rock in that area when there are thunderstorms. Luckily, for us, the skies were clear.
Once we left those windbreaks, we were exposed to the elements, or rather the wind, as the skies were clear. It was cold, but not uncomfortably so. At this point, we’re hiking near the road that leads to the peak, although we’re on thinly worn trails, not along the road itself. There were some patches of snow that we were forced to navigate. At times we were knee deep in soft snow, but these were fairly short patches. The last mile or so took over an hour. The “trail” here ascended a boulder field, and consisted mostly of stepping from rock to rock, following the guidelines of tiny rock cairns placed by previous hikers. At one point I caught my foot in between two rocks and went down hard. Fortunately this didn’t result in any injury, aside from some minor abrasions and wounded pride.
Once we reached the summit, we sought a long break in the visitor center. This place has all the amenities tourists might expect: a restaurant, bathrooms, museum, gift shop, and more. We lingered here perhaps longer than planned. We tried the unique donuts, browsed the gift shop. I felt gassed, out of breath, and wondered if the fatigue I felt was just fatigue, or the hint of altitude sickness. Reaching 14,115 feet above sea level is no mean feat, especially if you’ve walked up each step (well, not from zero to the top, but still). We had no transportation reserved back down to the car, so after a long break (probably too long), we strapped on our gear once more, and headed back down to the Crags trailhead. I’m sure the people who drove up or took the railway were amused by our attire and backpacks, and the hiking poles we all carried, not to mention the glazed look in our eyes. Downhill should be easier, right?
By the time we exited the boulder field, the wind had picked up significantly. It was now early afternoon. Had this been summer, we would have faced the danger of storms and summer monsoon weather. Still, the winds appeared to reach speeds of 30-50 miles per hour, and we struggled all the way until the tree-line. We sought occasional shelter behind any rock big enough. I’m generally a fast hiker, but unforeseen circumstances (a busted hiking boot among the party), kept the pace slow.
Finally. Tree-line meant silence, a break from the constant buffeting of the wind. The wind above the trees never stopped, hitting us from the side, rear, and sometimes the front. Once sheltered by trees, there remained the sound of wind through the trees, but much calmer. Here we no longer felt the physical strain of the wind. Along the way, both up and down, we’d paused many times. We now faced the prospect of arriving back at the car after dark, much as we’d left the car while it still was dark.
It’s a curious feature of hiking mountains. Going uphill you’re focused on what’s immediately in front of you. You don’t see the big picture, unless you pause and look around. Going downhill the trail seemed to go on forever; you saw far more of it, and thus it seemed to take longer down the trail. In the end, we did arrive after dark, ordered pizza on the drive back the house, and considered the day a success. A hard-fought success, but a success nonetheless. I’d hike Pikes Peak again, but this time via Barr Trail, just to be different.
