Rendezvous In The Rain Even Unseasonable Rain Can’t Stop Hardy, Modern Mountain Men In Meeting At Cataldo Mission
Even most mountain men don’t like mud.
When the gray skies started dumping rain on the annual Mountain Man Rendezvous outside the Cataldo Mission on Sunday, most of the 25 tepees and tents were taken down, rolled up and driven home.
Wet canvas can’t just be rolled tight and left that way. It mildews, then it’s ruined. So those with 9-to-5 gigs today had to take off once nature went wet; it takes awhile to dry those tents out.
“The weather got pretty bad, and it discouraged people,” said Charles Swingley, a 67-year-old who comes here every year. And wearing wet moccasins “is like walking in mud.”
But a few stuck it out longer. They sat beneath the soggy shelters and laughed, told stories and gave each other hell.
That’s really what this mountain man thing is about. Sure, it’s also buckskin pants, loincloths and broad-brimmed hats. But it’s also sharing a view of the world where time clocks aren’t welcome - even if they’re waiting for you once the weekend is done.
“It’s just a totally self-sufficient spirit that comes straight from the heart,” said Dean Hazuka, aka Iron Kettle. With his round specs and flowing white hair, he looks like a guy from another century. And Hazuka dares the yuppies to follow.
“People who are fake and plastic, who only want to make money and have no real values, don’t last long at these events.”
He’s called Iron Kettle for pragmatic reasons. He serves the food. That’s the full-time job - the Montana man travels all across the country selling Indian tacos and fry bread at camps. At his own home, he has no water or power.
No one was uptight. When someone gave another a bad time, they took it and dished it right back. And the same held true for hugs.
Tex Gatewood kept getting a lot of those. Whenever someone left, they’d give the 63-year-old a squeeze and an “I love you, brother.”
Tex wears a long silver beard and leather pants he made himself. He makes his living selling beads. Sitting beneath sagging canvas, the air musty and sweet with rain, he opened a small treasure chest. These red beads are from 15th century Italy, he said. Only $8.
The dalmatian-spotted round ones are “Crow beads,” he said, because the Crow nation used to swap horses for them if a European trader had some handy.
“To show how the market fell, they are now $5 apiece.”
But money isn’t his motive. “I’m here to have fun with my brothers. This just pays for the gas.”
He had other treasures, too. A 19th-century French navy gun, which looked like an old dueling pistol with a trumpet for a barrel.
And he had a combination tomahawk/peace pipe - designed so a tribe couldn’t be caught off guard by white aggressors during ceremonies.
He’s been going to these camps for 30 years, and they’re more popular than ever. On Saturday, which was more sunny, he guessed about 500 gawkers tromped through. And he figures on any given weekend, there’s at least one rendezvous no farther than 400 miles away. “It’s all over the world. It’s even in Australia now.”
The Cataldo rendezvous is eight years old, and it all started with a wedding proposal. Each camp is an anniversary for Bill and Karen Mossman. They tied the leather-lace knot here in 1989.
“I told my bride if she married me, I’d give her a wedding she’d never forget,” said Mossman, who goes by the name Fox. “The rest is history.” Literally.
A storm front was moving in, Fox had to go. But he gave Tex a hug first.
“There isn’t a person here I wouldn’t trust my life or my wife with,” Fox said. “I come here to be with my family. It’s a family reunion.”
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