Frozen Norwegian won’t leave Nederland for resurrected festival
Colorado’s most celebrated Norwegian, long dead and frozen, can command a crowd even when his corpse isn’t present.
This weekend’s Frozen Dead Guy Days festival, newly moved from where it began in the mountain hamlet of Nederland to Estes Park, is expected to draw more than 12,000 revelers starting Friday. Visit Estes Park promoters said tickets required for access to activi- ties are nearly sold out.
But the cryonics-pre- served body of Norwegian grandfather Bredo Morstoel still sits in a Tuff Shed 40 miles away in Nederland — where the mayor and others don’t want to let it go.
That may change. Morstoel’s remains must eventually be moved to the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, according to hotel owner John Cullen, who returned Tuesday from Norway following a second round of negotiations with Trygve Bauge, Morstoel’s grandson who in 1989 brought the body of his beloved, then recently deceased grandfather to America.
A deal in the works will transfer Morstoel from the Tuff Shed to a new facility next to the Stanley for longterm state-of-the-art preservation as part of a nonprofit cryonics museum, Cullen told the Denver Post. Thousands of bodies are suspended cryonically in the United States at considerable expense, and properly handling Morstoel requires professionals, he said.
“Right now, all we have got is the festival,” but a three-party deal should be signed within the next month, Cullen said. “Bredo the grandfather would have to be transferred into a nitrogen system, as opposed to dry ice.”
Norwegian family members have financed the preservation of the body on their property at an elevation around 9,000 feet above sea level in Nederland for three decades, paying $1,000 a month for dry ice hauled from Denver by hired caretakers. The ice is packed into an insulated crypt in the stalwart gray, red-trimmed Tuff Shed, where a red-blue-and-white Norwegian flag droops Daliesque from the rafters. Their motivation: enabling cloning in the future as human technology advances to allow resurrection.
A raucous pre-easter celebration that emerged in Nederland became the Frozen Dead Guy Days festival in 2002. Owned by Nederland locals, it featured coffin races, a hearse parade, Bredo lookalike contests, and icy cold plunges. But, during the COVID-19 pandemic, the festival itself became a casualty, canceled in 2020 and 2021 due to public health concerns.
Then, in 2022, an estimated 22,000 people, including scores who drove up from Denver, overwhelmed Nederland, which has fewer than 200 motel beds and a population of 1,523. Festival organizers, to prevent cancellation this year, sold the festival to Cullen, who has owned the historic 1909 Stanley Hotel since 1995, when he bought it from foreclosure for $3 million.
Nederland officials this week, unaware of Cullen’s overtures in Norway, expressed ambivalence about losing the festival to Estes Park, where industrial-scale tourism is a force, though they politely wished Estes Park good luck and pledged support.
“The void of there being no frozen dead guy festival here this year is undeniable,” Nederland Mayor Billy Giblin said in an interview.
Frozen Dead Guy Days worked as a “rough-around-the-edges” affair befitting Nederland’s freewheeling spirit, and this will change, Giblin said, in commercially oriented Estes Park, the gateway to Rocky Mountain National Park.
But keeping Morstoel’s body in Nederland matters far more than the festival, he said.
“The bigger loss would be losing Bredo,” Giblin said. “Bredo is the real deal.”
Not everyone in Nederland — where legal fights in the past and Bauge’s deportation in 1994 for overstaying his visa complicated storing the body — supports keeping it.