Sarah Haas, Peak to Peak.    If it’s 7 o’clock in the morning, Kodiak Cannon-Pattridge, or Cody as his friends call him, is probably up. He loves to sleep, but says, “it’s too good to be true,” with the summer sun shining through his windows, the time for dreaming has passed. Lying awake in bed, surrounded by sun drenched posters of musical legends like Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, and the Grateful Dead, lays blonde-haired, blue-eyed Cody, probably snuggling with the uninvited, but always welcome, neighbor dog, Scout.

Cody doesn’t have a dog himself, but he loves them, and his Facebook feed is full of portraits of him plus one. Scrolling through one after another, the thought occurs that dogs have been speaking to us all along and Cody’s been the only one wise enough to listen.

He’s got content for human friends too, posting daily affirmations like “live it up” and “stay on the sunny side of life,” although, in real life he’s able to say as much without saying anything at all. Cody projects positivity.

Having spent all 25 of his years living in the relative seclusion of Ward and Allenspark, Cody’s the new generation of Front Range mountain man. He’s observant, wary but welcoming of change, and above all else, loyal. The loyalty is important because mountain life for Cody has been surprisingly full of, and dependent upon, people. He was raised one of nine kids and, as if to keep pace, now lives with eight.

As a man of few words, it makes sense he ended up a radio DJ at Wayhighradio.com where he DJs on Monday and Friday nights. The music he plays speaks for him, song by song a message, but moreover the “music is proof that the world is looking out for people,” he says.

It was Cody’s identical twin brother Jake, aka Akrimonious KING, who first got him into radio more than five years ago. Needless to say, the two have a lot in common, but even more than their Christmas Eve birthday, they share the gift of music.

Today Cody’s show is mostly a dedication to local artists, big names like the Gasoline Lollipops and smaller ones, like fellow Wardians Ella and Bear, who often play live music on the air.

Mostly though he sits alone in the studio, left alone with the music, but occasionally interrupted by Facebook messages reminding him that one guy and a transmitter can reach a lot of people.

He once got a message from Dan Fogelberg’s daughter who was brought to tears by hearing her deceased father’s music on the air. Another time, a guy who lives at the bottom of town told him the songs he’d spun had saved his life.

Cody loves his work and is proud of being a radio DJ. Recently he got a stick-and-poke tattoo of his DJ name, Cp3o, on his knuckles. Hiding on his left forearm is another tattoo, an outline of a left hand, and Cody says a lot of people up here have the same marking on their skin.

“It’s a symbol for mountain people to band together, a protective symbol,” Cody says.

The symbol of the left hand is familiar to this part of the world (e.g. Left Hand Canyon, Left Hand Brewery). It’s popularity owing to Chief Niwot whose name translates to “left-handed.”

It’s not common to favor the left hand, only 10 percent of the global population does, and as a result, the trait’s taken on a negative connotation. In Sanskrit the word “vamacara” means “black magic” and in the bible, God is associated with the right hand and the Devil with the left.

Niwot and his people saw the difference, well, differently. In folk tales the Chief’s attributed with saying “the left hand defends the body’s vital centers in battle, the left arm carries the defensive shield.” A sign of strength where others might see vulnerability.

That sentiment is particularly fitting today and in a place like Ward where conveniences are far away and so you live with what and who you’ve got. Even so, Cody looks around at the town and says “times are changing” by which he means, simply, that he used to know everyone in town and now knows almost everyone in town.

“I went on Zillow the other day and most of the houses up here are selling for around $1 million,” he says, matter of factly.

He doesn’t bemoan the change, nor does he try to explain or justify it. He’s silent for a minute before pointing at the historic Chinook house and describing a picture he saw of it back when it was a hotel, “the tree was only ten feet high then.” It’s now at least 70.

When the interview’s over, Cody starts walking up the road in the rain and says, with a smile, “free shower.” As I drive past him on the road he flashes a peace sign and I can’t help but feel glad there’s a guy like him living in the hills on the left hand path.

(Originally published in the July 19, 2018, print edition of The Mountain-Ear.)