Deep in the mountains of Colorado lies a mile long staircase, once a cart railway now a tourist attraction, the Manitou Incline. This fantastic sight to behold shoots up to 20,000 feet and attracts the likes of tourists, hikers and my family. More specifically, Dad.
Once every summer, my family spends a week in Colorado Springs, for gratitude of our uncle who is the reason we can afford schooling. We discovered The incline about 2 years ago, and have made it a now permanent tradition to climb it until we reach the top-ish. We haven’t technically made it to the peek of the incline but it certainly feels like we have once we reach the outlook.
Before we set foot on the thing, Dad makes us drink plenty of water because apparently, lots of people have collapsed there due to dehydration. We also bring plenty of apples and cliff bars on the journey; though to be honest, I never really cared for cliff bars that much.
The first quarter of the trip is easy. It’s just a straight walk to the steep staircase, that’s when it gets a bit more tricky. Ten minutes pass and we’re on the steep part, every step feels like weights are strapped to your legs. Twenty minutes and our sweat glands begin to kick in. The challenge begins to become real. Dad orders a water break and scolds Brother #3 for pushing himself. Maybe Brother #3's just that good at hiking.
It has been half an hour and we’ve covered a lot of ground, almost halfway to half point. Another ten minutes pass and we stop for a lunch break. Everyone gets a sandwich and apple. It’s been an hour and we’re barely three-fourths of a way to the peek. Dad has resorted to crawling on all fours, Brother #1 abandons his dignity and joins him.
Thirty minutes and I see the peek; me and Brother #3 hustle up the steps and take in the view. We patiently wait for Dad and Brother # 1, for ten more minutes.