fake tales of manitou springs
I walked. no I didn’t. I got on that cog railway and sat next to Bob from Canada who was in Colorado visiting his half brother JD who he only realized was alive because he came across him on the internet via his wife who was related to him via his other mother or something. I said it’s a small world, and I’m from the other side of it. we were full to the brim as the red boxes cogged up the incline and even though I spent the first 30 minutes bemoaning the fact that I ended up on the 2-seat side which sticks to the side of the mountain, eventually I chilled out. literally. we slid the windows up as we approached the halfway point, but not before I’d done my obligatory sticking my upper torso out the window when you’re not supposed to thing and taken a couple of pictures of a place where you can sometimes see goats but they’re at home today fixing up their shed.
when we got to the summit we were allowed 40 minutes to stumble around in the snow, waiting for a gap in the cloud, before we had to head back down again because fat people at 14000 feet have a tendency to drop dead after about 45 minutes. I spent most of that time stumbling around in the snow, waiting for a gap in the cloud, but also managed to slip down a bank next to the railway while taking a picture of a red truck and plaster a thick layer of frozen clay over my backside which I spent the next 10 minutes trying to wipe off without bringing attention to myself even though it was like trying to push wet flour across a tablecloth and so in the end I just went to the toilet block to wash caked mud from my frozen hands and the water felt like it was boiling my skin and I ended up leaving a trail of clay all the way back down anyway and my coat is still brown at the bottom.
I’d recommend it to anyone.