Few words can describe what it’s like to be grazed by a flaccid, semi-frozen salmon. The Ghostbusters scene where Bill Murray’s character gets “slimed” comes to mind, but in a thinner, less viscous medium. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thwacked twice. Let’s leave it at that for brevity, and to spare you details of what fish glaze smells like after a 45 minutes car ride with the heater set to 80 degrees. Nasal sanity aside, the experience is one that everyone should live. I’m not saying one should try to find happiness in accidentally ripping a salmon’s head off, twirling it atop an index finger, and whistling a Ted Nugent song. First off, the Nuge would never disrespect an animal like that. The key is getting out of an office, city or “comfort zone” that is conversely more conducive to a heart attack, and relax a little. There is also that part about not taking yourself so seriously.
Mark Twain once said “truth is stranger than fiction.” Near the end of each winter, in the South Park-like mountain town of Nederland, Colorado, veritas and soaring fish find common ground at a festival for well-known resident “Grandpa” Bredo Morstoel. The event conveys little fiction, and instead relies on wild truths that would be difficult make up. Some revelers are local. Some are regional. A few are international. At least one is dead, but most are alive. That’s right, international. Since 2001, the Frozen Dead Guy Days has recognized Bredo’s mortality, and immortality, through a series of events that are fun, unique and just plain weird: “Grandpa’s Blue Ball,” coffin races, polar plunge, frozen turkey bowling, salmon tossing, and one of my favorites, the parade of hearses, but there are many, many more. This offbeat celebration strikes a global cord, because it has been featured in worldwide newspapers and magazines. It probably has something to do with the fact that Bredo, who died in 1989, is kept on ice in a Tuff Shed, to live (or die) out his remaining days in a state of cryogenic purgatory. None of this would be possible were it not for the town’s decision to (legally) “grandfather” Bredo into the city limits. Apparently, head townspeople were a little alarmed upon hearing the news that dead people were residing above ground in Nederland. Granted, Bredo’s core body temperature will forever be somewhere between -60 degrees and frozen stiff until reanimation, but laws were enacted nonetheless, to prevent people from setting up a mortal residence within the city limits. On the other hand, some people saw novelty in the debate, and the Frozen Dead Guy Days kicked off 11 years ago. Since then, it has been recognized as one of the top festivals in the country, if not the world.
In closing, I leave you with a few of my photographs, and encourage everyone to get out of the house, drive far from your office, part from the cell phone and enjoy life. The Frozen Dead Guy Days is a perfect opportunity to laugh at that which is certain for all of us, and may even put you in a better mood than the other certainty, taxes.
-Rob Mattson
