VIDEO: Conquering Pikes Peak atop a single wheel

OK. Imagine trudging up Barr Trail to the summit of Pikes Peak: 7,000 vertical feet of slippery gravel and boulders. You're sweaty. You're exhausted. Your lungs are burning. It's the hardest thing you've ever done.

Then some guy comes around the corner riding a unicycle.

And just as you're about to mutter some flabbergasted comment, his 11-year-old, 64-pound, unicycling daughter does, too.

"We get a lot of funny looks," said Luke Ward, 36, who learned to unicycle with his daughter Dani 18 months ago. They soon got good enough that they were taking the tipsy one-wheelers off-road, which led, naturally, to the ultimate local challenge: riding down Pikes Peak.

A few weeks ago they were dropped off on the 14,115-foot summit.

Dani, with brown hair and a laid-back "this is no big deal" attitude, strapped on shin pads, knee pads and a helmet, and wheeled a special knobbytired mountain unicycle to the edge of the abyss.

What does she like about mountain unicycling, or "muni," as the sport's small band of devotees calls it?

"It's hard," she said. "Not everyone can do it."


"Hard" doesn't begin to describe it. Most people can't balance on a unicycle for a few seconds, let alone ride down a mountain. The Wards' munis have no brakes.

The riders' quads are their brakes. And there is no coasting. Keeping a unicycle upright is a constant dance of muscles.

"By the end you're so tired you can barely walk," Dani said.

The father-daughter pair started down the trail, dropping over rocks and pivoting through boulder fields, held up by nothing but their own exceptional balance.

Mountain unicycling is almost as old as mountain biking. John Foss, aka "The Unicyclone," a Californian who was a pioneer of the sport, started touting the challenge of trail riding in 1981 and held the first gathering in 1996.

"Like mountain biking, it had multiple origins. People just started doing it," he said by phone. "But it wasn't until the late 1990s that you could buy parts specifically made for municycling. That's when it really took ofi."

"Took off " is a relative term. The pool of muni riders nationwide is more like a droplet. The largest annual gathering, in Moab, Utah, attracts about 300 riders. The Wards say besides them, the number of other muni riders in town is one.

But that may be part of the appeal.

"It attracts a lot of really smart people who like to do things that aren't easy," Foss said.

"It attracts a lot of computer people, a lot of artists and savants. And then there's just people who like to be odd."

On the surface there's nothing odd about the Wards.

Dani likes soccer and macaroni and cheese, and plays lots of "World of Warcraft." Her dad does computer work for El Paso County, likes spending time with his daughters, and plays lots of "World of Warcraft."

What's odd is the looks they get from hikers on the trail.

"You gotta be kidding me," one breathless man said as stepped aside to let the willowy girl roll past.

"You just have more talent than you know what to do with," a woman said as she prodded her husband to snap a picture.

Another hiker looked up and, with an incredulous smile, said, "Is this the sign of the apocalypse?"

Even Matt Carpenter, the uber-focused champion trail runner, stopped midstride.

"This I've gotta see," he said.

The Wards bounced by like members of an X Games circus.

"OK," said Carpenter. "Now I've seen it."

He kept running.

Dani led her dad down the trail, arms outstretched for balance.

He started the whole unicycle thing after not finding enough of a challenge when he switched from a regular mountain bike to a rigid single speed, but she is quickly eclipsing him as a rider.

"He's stronger, but I can do more tricks," she said.

She is more graceful. He tries to power through things.

"I have a job and she doesn't," he said in defense.

There were no uni riders in the area to teach the Wards. They learned by first balancing with both hands clutching the doorway to their kitchen. The next step was to ride across the kitchen to grab the next doorway, 10 feet away.

"We got pretty good in a few weeks," Ward said, "But the kitchen fioor has taken a beating. There were a lot of slams."

Unicyclists fall a lot more than bicyclists, but the falls aren't usually as bad. Riders are less likely to get caught up in the frame so it's easier to bail out and land on their feet. Plus, the top speed is only about 7 mph, making even bad falls relatively minor.

After about six weeks of riding, Ward and his daughter decided they were good enough to try the rocky trails at Ute Valley Park. It was a blast, so they tackled the Captain Jacks trail.

They weren't staying on the whole time, but the point was the challenge.

They started hiking up the Manitou Incline and riding down the tight switchbacks of Barr Trail. From there it was only natural to think of Pikes Peak.

"It was his idea," said Dani, pointing a thumb at her dad and giving him a slight eye roll.

"But you had fun," he said. "Didn't you?"

They must have, because a few weeks after their first successful descent, they did it again.

They dropped down through the clouds below tree line and rolled along at a jogging pace through the mist, toward town.

Four hours after leaving the summit, they arrived in Manitou Springs.

Even when riders have mastered the unicycle, it is still harder and slower than riding a bike.

It will never be as popular, but, The Unicyclone is quick to note, it can take you to a place bicycling can't.

"When you learn to unicycle," he said, "you've done something most of the world thinks is impossible. In the process you've learned that many impossible things really aren't. That's a powerful idea that can change your life."

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CONTACT THE WRITER: 636-0223 or dave.philipps@gazette.com