Touch of the Mountain Man Cures Local Residents

It was a partial reprint of an article that had originally appeared in a newspaper out on the west coast. I dropped my quarter into the microfilm machine and printed out the article and the drawing.

If you have ever printed off a microfilm from an old newspaper you know what the quality of the pictures can be. The text was readable and I double-checked the story against the photocopy. In the below reprint I have changed the exact wording somewhat. Some of the typeset back then made poor quality to work with.

The drawing was almost impossible to duplicate. I took the rough copy to a computer friend of mine who is one heck of an artist. (you can see his page off my friends links - Blue Rock Coffee House). As you can see he has done an exceptional job on the recreation. Well onto the story.

Touch of the Mountain Man Cures Local Residents

Legend has it that anyone who is touched by the Mountain Man has his ills cured. A local reporter, who had just returned from visiting relatives in Colorado returned with this story. Local residents of Elk Ear, Colorado (no longer a town, I checked) report that anyone who catches ill and pays tribute to the mountain man will be cured by his touch. As a reporter I was intrigued by this so called legend. I spent several days and many beers with the locals in hopes they would lead me to this man so I could see for myself these "cures". One resident finally agreed to give me directions to his cabin.

I packed my bags and left early the next morning. The trip started out uneventfully. I followed the trail up into the mountains. When it crossed the second stream I turned and followed it upstream. After two hours of riding I came to a boulder that was as large as a house. I left the stream at that point and followed a small train to the north. An hour later I left the dark of the pine trees and came to a small log cabin at the base of an outcropping of rock in a small clearing. I stood in awe, the walls were covered with skulls and bones. There were plants hanging upside-down drying in the. sun.

As I was standing there he walked out, never in my life had I saw anyone like him. He stood at least six foot four inches and looked every bit as large around. He had no neck and was as hairy as any bear I had ever seen. He was dressed in buckskin with a fox fur for a hat. He had a skull attached to his belt and carried a rifle. He was adorned with feathers of all types. He also had the largest knife on his belt that I had ever seen.

When he spoke it the hair vibrated from the noise "Stranger, what can I do for you". It made the hairs on my neck stand on end. I told him that I was a reporter for a newspaper and would like to do a story on him. "A story on me, heck, I ain't got nuthing to say." As he spoke I was amazed, he had to be at least fifty and he still had all of his teeth. They sparkled in the sun as he spoke. I explained that people in the big cities liked hearing tales about other people.

"Why heck, ifn they wanna hear about me you can spend a few days and i'll tell ya about me. Come into my place and a'll cook you up some grub" I followed him into his cabin and again stood speechless. The walls were covered with skins of animals and plumage of birds. There were strings of claws and teeth hanging by the fireplace and more weeds hanging from the ceiling. He pushed a pot back into the coals and motioned for me to take a seat.

Why the stew was warming he never said anything, when it was hot he got me a bowl and sprinkled some dried up green leaves into it. "Them will be good for what ails ya", he said. After I finished the stew he cleaned out the bowl and sat back and filled a pipe with some leafs of a plant that I did not know. "What ya wanna know. stranger". Never had he asked me for my name, just called me stranger. I explained that I heard he had powers of healing and I was interested in that.

He smiled a little and said " Yes, yes I do let me tell ya bout it". With that he started.

I was born on a tobbaccy plantation. It was owned by my uncle and my parents worked for him. My mammy run the big house and my pappy run the fields. After i was born I my milk mammy was a slave named Tildy, she was the black folks doctor and was supposed to be some sort of voodoo lady from where she came from. As she was raising me she taught me how to use plants and stuff to make people feel betta. She also taught me how to use the black magic on them. When I was just bout old nuff to help my pappy in the fields there was a slave revolt and my mammy and pappy and Tildy and my uncle was killed. I decided then that I would go west and make my fortune. I made my way out west until I was stopped by the snows of the Rockies.

Since I was such a big boy I got meself a job helping out a blacksmith. After a couple years a trapper stopped by and asked if I wanna go and help him catch beaver. I left and came up into the mountains with him. He taught me how to trap and live ofn the land. One day I woke and he was dead. I dug a hole out back and buried him. I spent that winter and the next alone never seein no one. Then one day an injun showed up at my door with an old injun with him. The old one was sick and I thought he was gonna die. I sat up giving him some plants that Tildy and the trapper had showed me healed folks.

The young injun left and I was alone with the old one. After time had passed the old injun got better. Come to find out he was a shaman medicine man. We couldnt hardly talk since I didn't know injun but he showed me the ways of injun medicine and magic. The young injun showed back up the next spring to take the old one back, winters get bad round here and people dont make it into my valley often.

Come another day I found a wagon full of folks heading west that was real sick. As i was gatherin my plants and stuff to fix them I had a feeling come over me when I touched one of em. I knew what was wrong just by feelin em. I mixed the stuff and he was healed real quick like. Word spread and soon I was fixin folk as quick as they could find my place.

after while it just got so I could touch them, now what to give them and they was fixed. I dont what was I giving em or just me but it worked.been doin it now for most my life and just nows it works. When i shook yer hand this noon I could tell you had a touch of stomach ache so I just shook a little stuff an yer stew and it fixed ya right up.

I spent the night and left the next morning. As I was reading to leave I turned to him. My name is Jake, whats yours.

"Well stranger, reckon I can;t rightly tell ya, when I was a boy the just called me boy, after I came to the mountains they just been calling me Mountain Man"

With that he turned and walked back into his cabin. I have never been back to see the mountain man again but m relatives tell me he is still there. He never changed, he looks the same now as he did when they were young. He never leaves his mountain. If you want him you must go there. Some of the folks out there say he is so much a part of the mountain that he has become ageless like them. Others say that he knows almost as much as the creator himself and that he keeps himself from getting older.

That is the end of the newsclipping. I have searched for more about this man on the Internet and library searches. However the only reference to a town is a dead lead. The town went the way of the great gold and silver mines of the rockies. There were no towns or cities listed as to where the story was originally from.

I for one will just file this away in my head as a story that could be true. I know on my trips out to the mountains I have always had a feeling that things are different than being in the flatlands and that a man who wanted to be lost out there could be lost for as long as he wanted to be.