Tall tales, handmade weapons and good company at mountain man rendezvous

This is part two of a two-part series on the lives and times of dwellers in the Como Mountain Man Rendezvous community in south Park County.

PARK COUNTY — Whether a cup of homemade cocktail, a tall tale or tips on using a longbow, everyone's got something compelling to contribute at Como Mountain Man Rendezvous.

The living-history event draws on integral aspects of the mountain fur-trading culture from the late 1700s to about 1840. Native Americans were essential to these people's survival said Preacher, the Booshway or main organizer.

“Mountain men could never have survived without Indians, period. Every one of them would have died,” he said Friday, adding that the mortality rate was high for the mountain men.

He said some would be starving to death when Native Americans would pick them up and take care of them.

The era of the fur-trading mountain men ended when silk became popular.

“Silk killed it,” Preacher said. “Silk hats went in fashion, beavers went out.”

The mountaineers would trade beads, mirrors, knives and more with the natives for animal pelts.

This year's Park County rendezvous event occurred in the woods south of Hartsel.

A mountain man and his mule

Under a tent not far from the Olfactory Assinline Saloon — one of three authentic tent saloons on the grounds — Edelphes Woodman was chatting with a couple guys, one of whom was wearing a beaver-skin top hat.

The Woodman is well-known in the rendezvous community for his engaging tall tales.

He was soon sharing a story of a good mule named Jake.

“I could speak a little bit of mule; he could speak a little bit of English,” Woodman said.

He was riding Jake down a trail when the Woodman felt a “squamptious” feeling like bugs flying in his stomach, with his hair standing on end.

“I got like I'd never had a squamptious feeling before,” he said.

Feathers began sticking out from the scenery, and soon members of the Blackfoot nation were on him. They pursued the man and his mule until the two were cliffed out.

As Woodman told his tale, his buddies nodded and commented in affirmation.

Jake made a “mighty leap” down 1,232 feet and 6.75 inches off the cliff to safety.

But some angry members of the Arapahoe nation were waiting at the bottom. They captured Woodman and Jake, and soon Woodman was tied up.

Jake got barbecued.

“I tell ya ole Jake never smelled any a better,” Woodman said.

As the Arapahos were dining on the mule, Woodman bellowed a command: “Whoa, Jake.”

The mule stopped on its way down the Indians' throats and caused them to choke, and Woodman lives to tell the tale, “facts be known, truth be told.”

After the story, everyone had a good laugh and Woodman explained that mountaineers were all storytellers.

“The more outrageous the story, the better,” he said.

Passion for a historic culture

About 45 paces from their tent, Bigfoot was working some rope into the handle of his mug to make a handle.

They call him Bigfoot because his shoe size is 18. He's a tall guy with huge hands and a calm demeanor.

“What brings you here?” I said.

He replied, “A modern horse team of 265 horses.”

A resident of Denver, he lived in Como for several years starting in 1949.

As he worked on his mug, smoke rose from the chimney of a black metal contraption that looked like some sort of little oven. Several longbows and arrows were hanging on the tent's wall.

Bigfoot said his brother makes the bows and that they would later be participating in an archery contest.

“I took up archery to spend time with my brother,” he said.

He said the rendezvous events are fun and there are always interesting people.

“People are starting to die off,” he said. “One guy died in June.”

Preacher, the Booshway or organizer of the Como rendezvous, said death is often commemorated through changes to routine. For example, his special drink mix, “Preacher's Snake Venom,” was retired after the man who made his jug passed.

Near the top of this year's rendezvous flier is a mention of the man who died in June.

“We will miss him badly,” it says.

Robert Allen can be contacted at (970) 668-4628 or

rallen@summitdaily.com.

Read Part 1

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