The “Iron Spring” and “Soda Spring” are superior for health to the “Washington” and “Congress” springs of Saratoga.
The day was perfect; not a cloud. Our car stood on the side track of the Midland, at an elevation of seven thousand feet, equal to the “Tip-Top House” on Mt. Washington. All were eager to know if the weather was propitious. Hasty toilets enabled us, one and all, to assemble at an early hour and watch for the first rays of the rising sun. We were looking east, when one of the group, a lady, was the first to call out: “There it is”; and, turning to the west, we saw “The Peak,” snow-clad, blushing like a rose. Then “Gog and Magog” caught the rays; then “Cameron’s Cone.” The foot-hills followed, one after another, till all had joined the “Peak” in proclaiming “The sun has risen.” We were charmed by the wonderful and novel scene. “Manitou” lay asleep at our feet. We watched till at last we too were standing in the sunshine.
After an early breakfast our Pullman Hotel, the “Dalmatia,” was taken over the Midland Railroad to Cascade City, passing through eight tunnels in going six miles to ascend about one thousand feet. We left our Pullman at Cascade City, and took carriages with four horses, for a seventeen-mile climb to reach the summit. The carriage road is a marvel of engineering skill. At the half-way house our horses were changed for four sure-footed mules. After leaving the timber line the prospect is wonderful, changing with every turn of the road, and there are eighty turns.
The ascent of Pike’s Peak in time of flowers is a surprise for those who expect to see only the rough boulder and riven rock. “Flowers deck their inclined sides in great blocks of color, and litter their terraces and woodland edges in variegated confusion. There is no difficult pass where they are not found; no dusky glen that does not harbor them; scarcely any height on which their beauty will not appear to gladden him who toils to reach the summits.”
“’Tis legend told of primal days When ‘Manitou,’ like clay, The gray rock mountain shapes did raise To celebrate his sway. He was not pleased. The mountains bare Were bleak and dull and gray. He snatched a rainbow from the air, To use its colors gay. Crumbling its bars, with chanted spell, Their radiant dust he threw, And everywhere a handful fell A million flow’rets grew.”