If you've stood curbside on Manitou Avenue on a Saturday in late October, you know the drill. Costumed teams haul homemade coffins down the same stretch of pavement they've used since 1995, a crowd that dwarfs the town's population packs in from the sidewalks to the hillside, and by afternoon everyone ends up at Soda Springs Park for live music and an awards ceremony that treats a coffin design contest with total seriousness. It feels like it always happens this way and always will.
This spring, it almost didn't.
In May, Manitou Springs Police Chief Bill Otto told the City Council that his department could not safely staff an event that regularly draws somewhere between 8,000 and 15,000 people into a town of fewer than 5,000 residents. Some councilmembers floated pausing the 2026 race entirely. The Gazette reported that Councilmember Julie Wolfe put it plainly at a May 19 meeting: "There's a possibility the whole thing might just get cancelled."
It wasn't cancelled. But the version of the race happening on Saturday, October 24 comes with more law enforcement, a new volunteer program being tested in real time, and a funding patchwork that suggests the city is already building the case for changing this event going forward. If you're planning to go this year, the mechanics behind that decision are worth understanding, because next year's race may not look like this one.
How Close It Actually Came
The staffing problem wasn't abstract. Otto told the council the standard safety recommendation for a crowd this size is roughly one officer per 100 attendees. Manitou Springs normally covers the race with 10 local officers. Even his initial ask, adding 10 deputies from the El Paso County Sheriff's Office, would have left the town closer to one officer per 500 attendees, still a fraction of what national guidance suggests.
The Gazette quoted Manitou Springs Police Chief Bill Otto telling the council: "We're just woefully understaffed." Councilmember Gloria Latimer went further, suggesting the city needed to reconsider how large its signature events should be allowed to grow at all.
Business owners didn't see it that way. The Gazette quoted Eric Wilks, who owns Manitou Winery, describing the race as "one of the weird things that makes this place fantastical." FOX21 News quoted Jonathan, who owns Colorado Custard Company, saying: "For 33 years or so, the coffin races have been held without incident." FOX21 News quoted Josephine, who works in Manitou's hospitality industry, calling the race "the last big hurrah before winter starts." For service workers like her, the stakes were financial as much as sentimental: the weekend carries small businesses through the slow months once summer tourism fades.
The Number That Actually Moved
Here's the detail that tells you more than the headline scare did. The dispute wasn't really about whether to have police at the race. It was about how the town would cover the cost of additional staffing.
The initial ask that made news in May was a $5,600 gap for a partial staffing increase. By the time the council reconvened on June 9, Chief Otto came back with a revised number after consulting comparably sized Colorado towns and the Colorado Intergovernmental Risk Sharing Agency. The real fix wasn't 10 additional officers. It was 15, bringing the total to 25, at an estimated cost closer to $9,600.
| Typical year through 2025 | 2026 | |
|---|---|---|
| Local officers | 10 | 10 |
| Additional contracted officers | 0 | 15 (mostly Colorado Rangers) |
| Total law enforcement on site | 10 | 25 |
| Estimated added security cost | $0 | roughly $9,600 |
| Who pays | City event budget | Split three ways: city funds, Visit Manitou Springs, and a community fundraiser |
That funding split matters. Rather than the city absorbing the cost or organizers passing it on through ticket fees, the town leaned on a hybrid model, including a fundraiser hosted by the Penny Arcade in June that supported both the race and the Flying Pig Farm. It's a workable patch for one year. It's not obviously a permanent answer, which the council itself acknowledged when it agreed Otto would file an "after-action" report after this year's race to shape a citywide events safety policy.
A Pilot Program Worth Watching
The most telling development didn't come out of a council meeting. It came in July, when the Manitou Springs Police Department announced it was testing a new "event ambassador" volunteer role at this year's coffin races. Applicants complete mandatory training in October, sign a liability waiver, and work the event alongside sworn officers. The department is explicit that this year's race is the test case for a model it wants to use at future large gatherings.
Put together, the after-action report and the ambassador pilot read like a town quietly building the infrastructure to manage its own popularity going forward. Councilmembers also raised, without committing to for 2026, the idea of limiting attendance from outside Manitou Springs or scaling back the shuttle service that has made the race accessible to visitors who don't want to fight for parking in a town that genuinely does not have much of it. None of that happens this year. All of it is now officially on the table for next year.
The Nederland Warning
Manitou isn't the first small Colorado town to watch a quirky death-themed tradition outgrow its own capacity. Nederland's Frozen Dead Guy Days started its own coffin race in 2002 as part of a festival built around a frozen body kept on dry ice outside town. It grew past 20,000 attendees before friction with the town and security concerns led organizers to shut it down after a pandemic hiatus. The event didn't disappear. It moved to Estes Park under Stanley Hotel owner John Cullen, reappearing as a $55 ticketed festival with a prohibited items list and security screening at the gate.
Manitou Springs hasn't reached that fork yet. But the ingredients, rapid growth, a police department that says it can't keep pace, and a council openly discussing caps, are the same ones that pushed Nederland's event out the door. This year's race is free, unticketed, and open to anyone who shows up. That's worth appreciating while it's still true.
What This Means If You're Going
The date is set for Saturday, October 24. The parade and judging still happen along Manitou Avenue, with the after-party at Soda Springs Park's Bud Ford Pavilion, the same footprint the race has used for years. A few things worth knowing before you go:
- Expect a heavier law enforcement presence than in past years. The 25 officers on site include Colorado Rangers brought in specifically for this event, not just the usual local force.
- Parking in Manitou Springs is limited on a normal day and worse on race day. Shuttle service has existed in past years, but the council has discussed scaling it back as one way to manage crowd size, so confirm pickup details with Visit Manitou Springs closer to the date rather than assuming last year's logistics still apply.
- If you want to support local businesses mentioned in the race coverage, Manitou Winery, Colorado Custard Company, and the Penny Arcade are all worth a stop.
- This may be the last year the race runs without some form of attendance cap or ticketing. If you've been meaning to go, this is the year to treat it as anything but routine.
None of this changes what the coffin races actually are: a genuinely strange, genuinely beloved piece of Pikes Peak region culture that a lot of people who live here have never quite explained to out-of-town guests. It just means the version happening next month exists because a lot of people spent their spring arguing to keep it that way.
If you're new to the area and wondering what else falls into that category of local tradition worth knowing about before you plan a fall weekend, that's exactly the kind of thing worth talking through with someone who lives here year-round.
Leslie Neumann works with buyers and sellers across the Colorado Springs area, including the communities just west of the city that make this region feel the way it does. Let's Connect.
