Finally, the Manitou Incline (1,800-step version)

Of course I worried. I needed to be cautious. Had I prepared enough? I didn’t know. But I had a friend to join me on southern Colorado’s most notorious hike. 

Until you stand at the base of the Manitou Incline for the first time, you have no idea what lies ahead. For years I contemplated the grueling 2,800-step hike. 

I completed a 2,000 step challenge every year for the Lung Association in Denver, that climb was split between 1,000 steps up and 1,000 down. The Incline is all up. I hesitated repeatedly, even going as far as to sign up for a free permit once. But I didn’t want to climb alone. A hike like that should involve shared joy/misery with a good friend, not me struggling amid infinite strangers on a weekend morning. 

Enter my friend Anton. We got talking about the incline at work back in April, and he offered to climb with me. He’s almost 20 years younger and in much better shape than me. But just knowing someone friendly would be on the mountain made me feel better. 

As for conditioning, my desire to make this the year was cemented at the Fight for Air Climb at Coors Field. for the first time, I finished the 2,000-step challenge and felt like I could keep going. That was a new experience. 

Ruxton Avenue is a longtime nexus of outdoor activity – the Pikes Peak Cog Railway departs and returns here, as does the Barr Trail for hikers headed to Pikes Peak’s summit. Then comes the Manitou Incline. 

The Incline has a curious history. In the early 1900s, today’s trail was the railbed for a funicular railway that went up to the mountain. That ran until the 1990s, when a flood washed out the tracks and the railway closed permanently. Hiking the incline began when the trail was less than official, but it developed into a major draw for the region. Eventually it was developed to make it safer, although it still carries plenty of risks. 

My fears also stemmed from the Manitou Incline’s history of ruining days and even ending lives of the unprepared. Too many people came from lower elevations unready for the challenge. Some people broke legs, some had heart attacks, some didn’t come back down alive. 

Regulations were set up to end unfettered access to the incline, capping daily participants with permits. But permits have not ended bad outcomes - early in the 2025, a 60-plus man from Oregon died a few hundred steps up.

After six years at 6,035 above sea level, I didn't have to worry about altitude adjustment. On a crisp Sunday morning in May, the time arrived. We had a 7-7:30 window for our start time. 

Anton met me and we headed for the Hiawatha lot in Manitou, where the city runs free shuttles to the trailhead. I telescoped my hiking poles, and we were off. I downloaded the Incline permits to my phone, but no one checked them. 

I used my usual method for steep hikes – go as far as I could, no matter how slow, until I needed to bring down my heartrate. It worked well on the incline. The hikes I took on the Clear Creek corridor in the mountains west of Denver prepared me for the steepness. But those trails lacked steps. Your quadriceps work overtime. 

A hundred steps above the trailhead, the Incline begins to show off excellent views of Manitou and the foothills on three sides. 

For the unprepared, the Incline features several spots for saving face and avoiding injury. The Barr Trail crossed the incline multiple times on its way to Pikes Peak. Hikers can also exit the incline via newer spurs to the Ute Pass Trail.  

Every hundred steps or more, it’s best to look back. With every step, the views improve. Soon enough, much of Manitou Springs and Colorado Springs will appear below. You can forget about Pikes Peak, but the foothills present themselves well in early May, with patches of snow still among the pines on their upper reaches. 

Looking up doesn’t hurt either. It won’t discourage you, even if the trail’s grade makes it appear almost vertical.  

The first 1,000 steps go smoothly before the major challenge emerges. The steps grow uneven. Sometimes a step constitutes two railroad ties instead of one. This is not a staircase in a building with every step measured out. For many people, these larger, uneven steps require a scramble. I opted to shorten my hiking poles to where I could use them like ice picks and pull myself up the larger steps. 

At 1,800 steps, there comes another decision. Signs warn of another 1,000 steps to the incline’s top. The next stretch of trail is known for being intense, even if it backs off before approaching the top. 

But the Barr trail cuts through. A three-mile downhill hike runs back to the Ruxton parking lot. I got to 1,800 steps. 

There was no shame in calling it good on my first try. After all, I live here. Anton deferred to me (he could breeze through hike without me), and I decided descending the Barr Trail from here would be fine. 

I was not ready for the steep and uneven railroad ties above 1,800 steps. We descended rapidly, although had to watch for people running down the trail (there were many). The trail still offered many scenic views of the mountains. A cog railway train headed up the mountain. 

Former tuberculosis huts

Instead of waiting on the shuffle bus, we just walked Ruxton Canyon down through central Manitou and the Hiawatha parking lot The road follows Ruxton Creek once we passed the Cog Railway station sending tourists up Pikes Peak. 

Manitou is best experienced when uncrowded, and the Sunday mob had not yet filled its sidewalks. We passed the old tuberculosis huts that had been converted to businesses, a sign of the Pikes Peaks region's past. 

I reminded myself I could return anytime. I favored a weekday in the fall when the volume of people would be a trickle. Until then, the first try of 1,800 steps was good enough.