Peak excitement: Ditch the car and explore ‘America’s Mountain’ by foot, bike and train

The panoramic views from the top of Pikes Peak inspired English professor Katharine Lee Bates to write a poem. Her words would become “America the Beautiful,” one of the most patriotic songs in the nation’s history.

Some 130 years later, countless visitors have traveled to the same spot where Bates stood in the Rockies, soaking up vistas of purple mountain majesties from the 14,115-foot summit of Colorado’s iconic landmark.

Bates took a horse-drawn wagon and mule on her ride to the crest. These days, roughly a half-million people each year drive the serpentine Pikes Peak Highway to the summit.

I wanted to experience the so-called America’s Mountain a different way. Make that three different ways: by train, bike and foot. Each of these automobile alternatives held its own appeal.

The railway — the highest in the U.S. — recently had a $100 million glow up. After being out of commission for nearly four years, the Broadmoor Manitou and Pikes Peak Cog Railway chugged back into business in 2021 with fresh tracks, new and improved train cars and a renovated depot in Manitou Springs.

I’m a sucker for a scenic train ride, so that was an easy choice. The bike part? Not so much.

Despite being a pretty avid cyclist for three decades, steep and fast descents still scare me. Pikes Peak Highway rangers routinely check cars’ brakes to make sure they’re not overheating. That didn’t bode well for a white-knuckle descender like me. But I couldn’t pass up the Pikes Peak cycling tour offered at The Broadmoor (1 Lake Ave., Colorado Springs; 844-602-3343; broadmoor.com), a historic resort that makes for a cushy base camp while playing in the mountains around Colorado Springs.

The Broadmoor, which added the cog railway to its portfolio in 1925, peddles a lengthy menu of adventures, from falconry and fly fishing to rock climbing and zip lining. Its Cog Up-Bike Down tour, available to hotel guests and non-guests May-October for $230, includes a one-way train trip to the top of Pikes Peak. That’s where you hop on a bicycle for an adrenaline-gushing 19-mile ride to the bottom, shedding about 7,000 feet of elevation along the way.

With a mix of trepidation and excitement, I boarded the raisin-box red train with my husband on a sunny day last September. The view out of the oversized window transitioned from lush pine forests and golden aspen groves to barren alpine tundra as we climbed above the tree line on our 9-mile slow roll to the summit. The train is designed for steep gradients, using toothed cogwheels under the locomotive that connect with a rail in the middle of the track to pull it up the mountain.

When we disembarked after our 70-minute journey, a dusting of fat snowflakes greeted us like confetti. We wandered over to the nearby summit visitor center, a sleek facility that replaced the old one in 2021. The new cafe still sells its famed doughnuts made with a secret recipe to fry dough at high altitude. The cinnamon-sugar treats tasted OK, but we were more impressed with the exhibits explaining the geology and history of this place known as Sun Mountain to the Indigenous Ute people. They called the area home long before prospectors and miners traveled across the Great Plains in wagons emblazoned with the rallying cry “Pikes Peak or Bust.”

“Who’s ready to ride some bikes?!?” asked Marcel, our infectiously enthusiastic guide.

I forced a smile and nervously donned my elbow and knee pads, face helmet and bright yellow vest. It was go time. Another guide got on his bike to lead the way down. Marcel trailed us in a van, hooting and hollering encouragement out the window after hairpin turns.

Because of the condition of the road (pristine), the sight lines (excellent) and the equipment (gotta love disc brakes), my anxiety quickly surrendered to exhilaration. We kept our speed mostly under 20 mph as we cruised from one switchback to the next, occasionally pulling over to take pictures and admire the view. We literally rode into the clouds. I could see the Continental Divide in the distance. My gigantic face helmet hid an equally big smile.

After a thrilling day on the bike, my nerves barely had time to relax before our final — and biggest — challenge: hiking to the summit.

If you want to “bag a fourteener,” as climbers say, Pikes Peak is a good option. The nearly 13-mile Barr Trail that takes you to the top isn’t technical. That doesn’t mean it’s easy. Even explorer Zebulon Pike didn’t make it all the way up his namesake mountain.

Any climb at these heights has inherent risks, not least of which is debilitating altitude sickness from the oxygen-thin air. We’d given ourselves a few days to acclimate before attempting to summit. We also did a training hike between two of The Broadmoor’s all-inclusive wilderness properties, trekking from the secluded Ranch at Emerald Valley up to Cloud Camp, where the main lodge sits at 9,100 feet above sea level.

Weather is another factor. It’s notoriously fickle on Pikes Peak. Hikers can get caught in unexpected storms. You need to be well prepared with plenty of water, food and warm clothing. The summit can be a good 30 degrees cooler than at the start of Barr Trail in Manitou Springs.

The trail is named for Fred Barr, who built the route in the early 20th century to run burro rides to the summit. I wish I could go back in time and buy Fred Barr a beer. The well-marked path was a (mostly) gentle ascent, wending us through a patchwork of pine and quaking aspen. The latter’s round, yellow leaves looked like hundreds of tiny suns clustered in the blue sky. Every now and then we’d catch a glimpse of the summit visitor center, a tiny sprinkle on a giant granite cupcake, gradually getting bigger and closer.

Thoroughly tired after six hours of hiking, we slowly made our final push over a series of rocky switchbacks euphemistically dubbed the 16 Golden Stairs. We reached the top not long after a cog train pulled up to the platform. That shiny red chariot was our ticket back down the mountain.

After summiting Pikes Peak, the only thing I wanted to climb on was a massage table. So that’s what I did the next morning at the hotel spa — complete with his-and-hers oxygen rooms — a few hours before it was time to fly home.

On the shuttle ride to the Colorado Springs airport, the driver pointed out the window to a tower of pink granite.

“That there is Pikes Peak, over 14,000 feet high,” he told us. “There are three ways to get up it. You can drive up. Take a train up. And some folks, well, they walk up.”

My husband and I — newly minted members of the “some folks” club — caught each other’s eye and smiled.

Less than 24 hours ago, we were up there, standing on top of America’s Mountain. And it was beautiful.

Lori Rackl is a freelance writer.