The great gondola debacle: Colorado Springs’ unrealized dream
Back in the mid-1970s, fueled by a combination of civic pride, questionable engineering, and too much Coors at city council meetings, Colorado Springs leaders unveiled a bold plan: a gondola system that would whisk passengers from downtown Colorado Springs to the summit of Pikes Peak and back. The proposed gondola, lovingly dubbed the “Peak Connector,” promised to transform the city into a tourist mecca. The tagline? “From Downtown to the Top: No Sweat, Just Jet!”
The Vision
The Peak Connector was designed to be an engineering marvel. The gondola system would stretch 14 miles, with brightly colored cable cars offering panoramic views of the city, Garden of the Gods, and the Rockies. Stops were planned at major landmarks along the way, including Old Colorado City, Manitou Springs, and the Cog Railway station.
- The Cars: Each gondola was to be themed after Colorado’s history. Some cars looked like gold mines, others like log cabins, and a few were modeled after prairie wagons. One even included a “buffalo-themed experience” with fake fur on the seats and a button that mooed when pressed.
- The Pitch: City leaders claimed the Peak Connector would “redefine high-altitude luxury travel” and draw millions of tourists. “Why drive to the top,” one council member declared, “when you can glide in style?”
The Problems Begin
Despite the enthusiasm, cracks in the plan appeared almost immediately.
- Physics, Schmysics: At 14 miles long and with a 7,400-foot elevation gain, the gondola would have been the longest and steepest in the world by a massive margin. Engineers warned that the cables would need to be so thick, they’d look like steel suspension bridges. City leaders responded with, “Just make the cables invisible—like fishing line or something.”
- Weather Woes: Colorado Springs is known for its unpredictable weather, especially near Pikes Peak. Locals worried about the gondolas swaying in high winds or getting iced over during blizzards. When asked how they’d handle storms, the project manager shrugged and said, “Umbrellas?”
- Wildlife Concerns: Environmentalists raised alarms that the gondolas would disturb local wildlife, particularly birds. One ornithologist warned that eagles might attack the gondola cars. The city’s rebuttal? “We’ll add eagle-proof decals to the windows.”
- Cost Overruns: The initial price tag of $10 million (already a hefty sum in the ’70s) ballooned to $30 million after someone realized gondolas couldn’t simply “run on vibes” and would require thousands of towers, multiple stations, and extensive maintenance. A local high school kid, who’d recently gotten a C in geometry, pointed out, “Wouldn’t the cable sag halfway to the ground?” City planners were stunned into silence.
Public Reactions
At first, the public was excited. Residents loved the idea of riding from their favorite downtown coffee shop to Pikes Peak without breaking a sweat. But as practical details emerged, skepticism grew. A protest group called “Feet on the Peak” argued that the gondola would “ruin the spiritual experience of hiking Pikes Peak.” Their slogan: “Earn Your View, Don’t Cruise It!”
Manitou Springs residents were particularly furious, claiming the gondola would block their already limited sunlight and “rain trash onto their hot springs.” Meanwhile, some locals actually thought the gondola was too slow and demanded jetpacks instead.
The Final Straw
The project collapsed when test runs began using a prototype gondola system strung between the Broadmoor Hotel and Seven Falls. On its maiden voyage, the gondola got stuck for six hours, leaving passengers dangling over a herd of bemused deer. The mayor at the time, who’d insisted on being part of the inaugural ride, had to be rescued by helicopter. His post-rescue press conference included the now-famous line: “I don’t care how scenic it is—never again.”
Legacy of the Peak Connector
While the Peak Connector never came to be, remnants of the dream linger. The slogan “No Sweat, Just Jet” can still be spotted on a mural in a forgotten downtown parking garage. And every now and then, a local will glance up at the mountain and joke, “Maybe we just needed stronger fishing line.”
The gondola dream was replaced with more practical projects, like updating roads and expanding the Cog Railway. But for a brief moment, Colorado Springs dared to dream big—perhaps too big.