While photographing and exploring the Colorado Mountains as a professional western adventure writer and photographer you come to realize that the folks that live in the remote high country are sort of – let’s say different. They normally are folks for reasons of their own really don’t like people so they chose to distance themselves from folks like you and me. They will tolerate us for a short spell, but they really would rather be by themselves. They are and always will be the “Mountain Folk.”
You will learn in the mountains of Colorado – the folks are a different breed,
Some are city rejects, some were mountain natural born – all from a peculiar seed.
It is not the resorts or the big cities that the “mountain folk” live and reside,
But, the near ghost towns like Como, Russell Gulch, and Alma – live the certified.
Sort of comes naturally to make fun of those that live near the timberline high,
Been my experience – the thinner air makes their brain pans go slightly awry.
Mountain folk usually are as nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers,
When lost – and ask directions – you will find they are not a lot of talkers.
Finding a helpful mountain folk – is almost guaranteed it will be a long shot.
If you do get a talker, they mumble, “Don’t go gettin’ your knickers in a knot.”
Sure enough, they will point you down the road as they give you a lot of crap,
Spitting – then mutter, “You couldn’t find your ass with both hands and a map”
In the high timber I have seen mountain folk that would make coffee nervous,
Just a few minutes with the mountain folk – sure enough will leave you wordless.
God forbid if you happen to run your Jeep or 4-wheeler into a mountain ditch,
Along comes a mountain folk in a rusty truck – grumbling, “Gaul darn sum bitch.”
If you cuss a mountain folk they will stomp a mud hole in your ass and walk it dry,
Mountain folk gets meaner, off- kilter, and crazier the closer you get to the sky.
I know what has floated across your braincase, “He’s nuttier than a squirrel turd.”
You will have to excuse me – the thin mountain air here has my thinker blurred.
Kurt James © 2017
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