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This is part one of a two-part series on the lives and times of dwellers in the Como Mountain Man Rendezvous community in south Park County. Part two is to be published Sunday.
PARK COUNTY — At the end of a Park County dirt road marked with small handmade signs stood a rugged, bearded man named Preacher — who donned a a real fur cap and didn't hesitate to offer guests a beer at 9 a.m. Friday.
He'd been up since dawn. After a mug of coffee, he lit off a cannon to rouse fellow residents of Como Mountain Man Rendezvous: a living-history event with men, women and children of all ages.
Everyone here dresses pre-1840 except “pilgrims,” or guests, who by 6 p.m. must either leave or don similar apparel. Otherwise, there are no rules.
“We don't put citified restrictions on anyone in this camp,” Preacher said, adding that if you give him trouble, expect about 15 guys to appear by his side.
The camp is in a wooded area on the edge of some rolling rangeland separated from the highway by hills. People take care of themselves, and aside from a few hooters (portable toilets), they live the authentic mountain life.
Historically, the fur-trading era represented at the gathering lasted from the late 1700s to about 1840.
“We think it's real important not to let this very short piece of history of America” disappear, Preacher said.
The Como camp is in its roughly 22nd year. It carries the same name, though it's since moved a couple times and this year is east of Hartsel off Highway 24.
Kids wander the camp unsupervised, Preacher said, except they are supervised all the time as part of “one big family.”
He said the camp mirrors an “older, kinder, gentler, more polite society.” His safe is a cigar box.
Preacher's a retired Air Force pilot who lives in Arvada and works as a research psychologist for the U.S. Department of Defense. But like many of the rendezvous dwellers, he talks mostly about life as a mountain man.
In addition to whittling, making conversation and eating an array of camp foods, there are some outdoor competitions here.
There's competitive black-powder shooting, tomahawk and knife throwing, and even a women's frying-pan toss. The pie competition involves jugs of alcohol-infused mixtures.
“Preacher's Snake Venom” was a hit in recent years, Preacher said.
The ingredients: 100-proof Yukon Jack, 100-proof Hot Damn, lime juice and pure vanilla.
An appeal beyond historic preservation
Moon, a nurse from Simla, sat in the sunshine Friday near her grandson Rich — who was busy whittling a stick.
She's been trotting through rendezvous events since the late '70s, though she stopped for a few years. One day she was working for the U.S. Forest Service and camping out when a truck appeared and the “rendezvous came to me in a way,” she said.
Moon attends the camps for the air and sunshine, to listen to children play and be around fun people.
She went to 13 rendezvous events in 2008 and has been to three this year, citing the economy for the decrease. The Como event is her favorite.
“There's no rules. When you go into (some) camps, there are rules like modern day,” she said, pointing out that the rendezvous campers of the distant past didn't have rules. “There wasn't such a thing as politically correct back then.”
Some camps today require assigned campsites and dog leashes, among other restrictions.
Like many who attend these events, Moon trades “little odds and ends.”
Several tents at the camp offer items such as beads, crafts, clothing, belts, knives, leather pouches, pottery, fur hats and just about anything else from the early 1800s.
Moon likes to bring her grandkids along to get them away from their electronics, and she said they enjoy playing with knives and shooting guns.
Hercules, Moon's Boston terrier and blue heeler mix, sat at her feet as she talked in front of a fire pit loaded with iron utensils. A stack of fresh, delicious-looking griddle cakes were on a pile of rocks at the edge of the grill.
A Chihuahua named Chico was lying just inside the tent. Moon said Chico came from a girl at a rendezvous in Yuma, Ariz. who'd traded for a skirt one year and came back to give her the dog the next.
Chico stays nearby.
“All these mountain men want to put him in a stew,” Moon said.
Preacher said rendezvous events occur in every state, and the people make it “pure joy.”
Robert Allen can be contacted at (970) 668-4628 or rallen@summitdaily.com.
PARK COUNTY — At the end of a Park County dirt road marked with small handmade signs stood a rugged, bearded man named Preacher — who donned a a real fur cap and didn't hesitate to offer guests a beer at 9 a.m. Friday.
He'd been up since dawn. After a mug of coffee, he lit off a cannon to rouse fellow residents of Como Mountain Man Rendezvous: a living-history event with men, women and children of all ages.
Everyone here dresses pre-1840 except “pilgrims,” or guests, who by 6 p.m. must either leave or don similar apparel. Otherwise, there are no rules.
“We don't put citified restrictions on anyone in this camp,” Preacher said, adding that if you give him trouble, expect about 15 guys to appear by his side.
The camp is in a wooded area on the edge of some rolling rangeland separated from the highway by hills. People take care of themselves, and aside from a few hooters (portable toilets), they live the authentic mountain life.
Historically, the fur-trading era represented at the gathering lasted from the late 1700s to about 1840.
“We think it's real important not to let this very short piece of history of America” disappear, Preacher said.
The Como camp is in its roughly 22nd year. It carries the same name, though it's since moved a couple times and this year is east of Hartsel off Highway 24.
Kids wander the camp unsupervised, Preacher said, except they are supervised all the time as part of “one big family.”
He said the camp mirrors an “older, kinder, gentler, more polite society.” His safe is a cigar box.
Preacher's a retired Air Force pilot who lives in Arvada and works as a research psychologist for the U.S. Department of Defense. But like many of the rendezvous dwellers, he talks mostly about life as a mountain man.
In addition to whittling, making conversation and eating an array of camp foods, there are some outdoor competitions here.
There's competitive black-powder shooting, tomahawk and knife throwing, and even a women's frying-pan toss. The pie competition involves jugs of alcohol-infused mixtures.
“Preacher's Snake Venom” was a hit in recent years, Preacher said.
The ingredients: 100-proof Yukon Jack, 100-proof Hot Damn, lime juice and pure vanilla.
An appeal beyond historic preservation
Moon, a nurse from Simla, sat in the sunshine Friday near her grandson Rich — who was busy whittling a stick.
She's been trotting through rendezvous events since the late '70s, though she stopped for a few years. One day she was working for the U.S. Forest Service and camping out when a truck appeared and the “rendezvous came to me in a way,” she said.
Moon attends the camps for the air and sunshine, to listen to children play and be around fun people.
She went to 13 rendezvous events in 2008 and has been to three this year, citing the economy for the decrease. The Como event is her favorite.
“There's no rules. When you go into (some) camps, there are rules like modern day,” she said, pointing out that the rendezvous campers of the distant past didn't have rules. “There wasn't such a thing as politically correct back then.”
Some camps today require assigned campsites and dog leashes, among other restrictions.
Like many who attend these events, Moon trades “little odds and ends.”
Several tents at the camp offer items such as beads, crafts, clothing, belts, knives, leather pouches, pottery, fur hats and just about anything else from the early 1800s.
Moon likes to bring her grandkids along to get them away from their electronics, and she said they enjoy playing with knives and shooting guns.
Hercules, Moon's Boston terrier and blue heeler mix, sat at her feet as she talked in front of a fire pit loaded with iron utensils. A stack of fresh, delicious-looking griddle cakes were on a pile of rocks at the edge of the grill.
A Chihuahua named Chico was lying just inside the tent. Moon said Chico came from a girl at a rendezvous in Yuma, Ariz. who'd traded for a skirt one year and came back to give her the dog the next.
Chico stays nearby.
“All these mountain men want to put him in a stew,” Moon said.
Preacher said rendezvous events occur in every state, and the people make it “pure joy.”
Robert Allen can be contacted at (970) 668-4628 or rallen@summitdaily.com.
