Story Type: Industry

In 2018 we made the decision to update our brand. It was terrifying. Here I was making changes to my dad’s 20-year-old company. But our beer portfolio had evolved, and we wanted our brand to reflect that. We were able to work with a designer who had grown up in Black Mountain. He was not only familiar with our area; he knew exactly where we started and what we’d become. Referring to our original brand, he said, “You guys are not Scottish. You are pioneers!” That was really the key.

Our logo now revolves around a simplified compass to capture that pioneering spirit. When I saw it, I said, “This is right.” I knew it was a reinvigorated brand rooted in the same place, but our identifying characteristic was moving forward. That really spoke to our staff. They were like, “Let’s keep creating. Let’s keep innovating. Let’s keep forging a path.” Our branding now reflects the brand that we are today and will be tomorrow.

We’ve also designed our packaging to reflect WNC’s beautiful natural resources. All of our year-round beers feature mountains on the packaging, and our seasonal beers are tied to something of regional significance, be it mountains, flora, or fauna. I think that beer and the outdoors complement each other beautifully. Enjoying a great beer and exploring the outdoors are both celebratory experiences. They give you a feeling of connection.

It’s great to stand out. When Highland was founded in 1994, we stood out because we were the only brewery. We’re now part of a huge community, but we still stand out because of our diversity. I think being a woman-led company has made women more comfortable applying to work here. 40 percent of our staff and nearly 50 percent of our management are women. That percentage of women in management is rare in general, but in craft beer, it’s almost non-existent.

My earliest memories of coming to Asheville are of visiting my parents when they owned a place that they called “The Farm.” When I pulled up and opened my car door, the air was different. I couldn’t help but take a huge deep breath of this mountain air. That is so special, and it’s easy to lose.

People often make the decision to move to Western North Carolina before they’ve even decided what to do for work. It’s our outdoors that draw them. I think that says a lot about what this area has to offer. There people care a lot about our natural resources – and they also care about protecting those resources.

We’ve always operated with a long-term view, and conserving our 40-acre property is a big part of that approach. We recently hired a full time land management professional. With his help, we’re working to control invasive species and develop trails that complement the land—not destroy it. We’re also creating opportunities to go outside, be it to play volleyball or disc golf, or to walk trails. That’s important because when you bring people to the outdoors, they care more about it.

Getting outdoors in WNC is my mental health, centering, recovery, and inspiration. One of my favorite things to do is to go to Bent Creek by myself and run. There’s just something so refreshing about that experience: the quiet, the fresh air, and being around others who are enjoying the same things.

I feel like I’m a better person living here. I give credit to the people who live here and the culture of this place, but that’s all based on the natural beauty that we have. You can’t have one without the other. I’ve felt inspired to dive into who Highland is, what we stand for, and what we can become because of our surroundings.

Kitsbow’s adoption of one-piece-flow production signals a small but significant revival of manufacturing jobs in the old textile town. And that’s just one way Billstrom is encouraging community-building in Old Fort. Just last year, Kitsbow opened the doors to The Old Fort Ride House, a trail-side outpost, cycle shop, and coffeehouse that serves as base camp for visiting riders and locals alike.

Old Fort is Goldilocks. Perfectly positioned. The best of all worlds. We’re right on the western edge of the state’s 150-year textile and furniture building history. We have thousands and thousands of potential employees in driving distance. We’re a 12-minute commute from Black Mountain. Another five to Swannanoa. We have employees who live 25 minutes away in West Asheville. They’re young, hip, and alive—not old fogies like me! They get to live in one of the most desirable locations in one of the most desirable cities, and we’re a short reverse commute from it.

Even more key is that we are part of the Pisgah National Forest. I can’t emphasize that enough. Bicycle brands like to be based in beautiful locations when they can, but most can’t. They don’t have a workforce at their doorstep that stems from a 150-year production legacy like we do. On top of that, we’ve got access to gravel, singletrack, and road and people ride at lunch, because they can. That’s an incredible thing for the brand.

The business model of almost every apparel brand in the US is to make some stuff somewhere else. Some 98 percent of all the clothes sold in America are made outside of America. When you compare that to 35 years ago, when 80 percent of the clothes purchased in America were made in America, it’s been a radical slide. In the old days, Kitsbow had three people sewing in the back room making about 12 of our 75 styles. The rest was outsourced. I saw that and I said, “Tell me some more about these people making stuff in the back room.” Because I knew there had to be a better way.

There are so many implications to manufacturing overseas. You lose control of your cash because of the substantial money you have to put down upfront. There’s also insane environmental waste. When you finally get the clothes in your hands, you need to sell them as fast as freaking possible because you need your cash back. If it doesn’t sell for three weeks, you mark it down. When it gets marked down the third time, it goes to the landfill. Researchers believe between 30 and 40 percent of all the consumer apparel in the world, still in the original packaging, is burned or buried. On top of all that, you’re unable to offer repairs on your goods. And, of course, there are the profound labor issues.

So we made the switch from traditional batch manufacturing to one-piece-flow, a type of lean manufacturing. It means we’re going to make your shirt just before you want to buy it. (Or, right now, we’re making it after you buy it—because we can’t make stuff fast enough.) The business model is well-proven. In fact, it’s how your iPhone is made. It’s flexible, and it’s the way of the future.

We remind ourselves to remain humble every single day. Because we ‘ve been in business for nine years, we know that we can always make it better; we have to keep improving things. And we’re doing the same thing with Old Fort. We’ve been promoting Old Fort to our global constituency for a year and a half now. We’ve got the power and confidence of a four-person marketing department with deep experience in social media. We’re promoting it not just as a place, but as a brand.

At the same time, we have to do that with humility. Because it’s like, who the hell are we?

We know we just got here. Our marketing team didn’t grow up here. Every time we put our weight behind an initiative, we have to do it with humility. We have to look at the local leaders. This is their town; we’ve adopted it—but we can’t control it. If we try to control it, it’s going to turn into something like South Lake Tahoe, which was overdeveloped in the ’70s with a lack of appreciation by outsiders for the people who live there. Or Breckenridge, Colorado, which has been loved to death and where a bartender can’t afford to live within the city limits. We don’t want to love Old Fort to death, and we don’t want to make it a place where only rich people can afford to live. We want it to be real..

A wonderful synergistic circumstance unfolded in the last year. Kitsbow supported the G5 Trail Collective—a nonprofit formed to build trails in a five-county region that includes McDowell—with a small financial contribution and by providing clothes and food to those who work on the trails. Immediately after we moved to Old Fort, we were invited to participate in community meetings led by People on the Move for Old Fort, a black-led community non-profit. This group, led by Lavita Logan and Stephanie Swepson-Twitty, is working on basic improvements that need to be made here, and in our larger community after more than a hundred years of gerrymandering and systemic racism. That in turn led to a focus on trail development by People on the Move for Old Fort, and involving Kitsbow and other community partners.

Lavita and Stephanie saw the trail development as both an economic opportunity and an opportunity to restore access to the woods that they had years ago and don’t now. So the black community ends up being the largest cash donor to the trails. That donation meant they had a voice in the trail development, which has led to more new beginner trails and not just new steep trails, which is important. If you talk to anyone with any experience running ski resorts, they’ll tell you they need a lot more green and blue than they need double black diamonds. We were starting to make the same mistake here. Now, we’re going to have beginner trails because People on the Move Old Fort was involved in the planning and discussions..

From that, the G5 Trail collective got national visibility because of the Black-led investment in the trails, which, in turn, led to a conversation with McDowell Technical Community College about how the college could help. We realized that the forest service pays people to leave WNC and drive to the coast to get the certification to run a chainsaw and work on trails, because that’s the only place you can get it in North Carolina. Within less than six months, we had a Golden Leaf Grant for $800,000 to create a satellite campus in downtown Old Fort at McDowell Community College to teach trail skills. They’ve already had the first class. It’s incredible how that all wove together, and it goes to show the power of community in this place.

Hunter suggests that though the issue might seem overwhelming, the solution is actually very simple. Listen and seek to understand these real and pervasive issues. Find a Black friend. Invite them outside. Invite them again. Keep inviting them, until we are able to lessen and eradicate the fear that’s long prevented millions of Americans from enjoying their public lands, national parks, and even neighborhood sidewalks.

Pisgah National Forest alone has over 250 waterfalls, but I only really started to experience them last year. I found myself actually chasing waterfalls—on top of mountains, in valleys—in search of these amazing, breathtaking things, knowing I’ll never see that same flowing water, ever again.

If I hadn’t moved to this area, I wouldn’t have been able to watch that cold water flowing, or feel the wind snapping, or see those glowing stars. I never would have known the sense of accomplishment that comes after climbing Black Balsam Knob or Devil’s Courthouse. Looking over the city below, you’re actually able to see what you conquered. This area has allowed me to experience things I never thought I would. I’ve been all around the world, but here at home, it’s clean, it’s beautiful, it’s special.

My son and I took a camping trip out west, and I continue to see its impacts on him as he matures. There’s going to be places we saw and things we did that will stay with him forever. And I’ll remember hearing him say, “Wow!” with miles and miles of mountains in the distance, and camping at the base of Mount Rushmore, and thinking I’m seeing buffalo out there, but my son telling me, “No, Dad, those are bison.” He needed me, I needed him. We weren’t going to leave one another. I felt a sense of closeness to him at every step of the way. We were at 49 campgrounds, and sometimes the only Black folk there, but I told my son, “The experience you’re having right now? Every kid should have this experience.”

My daughter has really taken to the outdoors. When she came to me, asking to take a camping trip, I thought she mostly wanted to because her brother and I went. Once we got on the trip, though, I realized that she wanted her own outdoor experience. We drove from Chicago to Hershey, Pennsylvania in search of chocolate, and camped the entire way. With her, I learned something a little bit different than my son.

When young folks are in the outdoors, they become more well-rounded, and they learn what it means to have tranquility.

My first time backpacking, I remember being afraid to go outside of my tent, even though there was a beautiful moon shining on the stream in front of me. It actually took me hours to do a quick in and out. Two hours! My second time backpacking, I cowboy camped and slept right by the fire. I went from one extreme to the next and quickly adapted. There is still some fear I experience, like just two weeks ago, on my first nine-mile trail by myself. I remember feeling very alone at my fifth or sixth mile. But soon, I felt some harmony within, and a real sense of pride as I tried to navigate back to the trailhead. I feel more empowered now, not afraid.

I’m not a formally-trained guide. I grew up in Columbia, South Carolina, in the projects, with no woods around. An outdoors lifestyle wasn’t even in my mind. When people see my content, they see me, my family, my friends, and they start to want to try it, too. Black people need to see more Black families in the outdoors, because when they do, it starts to ring bells for a lot of folks—especially in the South. It’s so important for my children and their friends and parents to see this so they’ll want to join in.

If we’re going to introduce Black folks to Western North Carolina, or anywhere in the outdoors, we’ve got to meet people where they are. And that’s particularly true when they’re afraid. You want the reason they ran out of the forest to be because they want to tell people what they accomplished—not because they’re scared. It’s about understanding that we’re all going to have to go through something to get to something. To get to the top of the mountain, we have to build up first.

I’ve always been a person to take things head-on. It would have been easy for us to have this company in any bigger city, like Atlanta where there are a ton of Black folks. But that would mean taking Black Folks Camp Too into a place I don’t know as well. The company wouldn’t be as far along its path if we weren’t driving it here. I know the great places to go, the places that make me feel welcome, and where I’m meant to feel unwelcome. Our message, that not everyone feels safe outdoors, that’s a new concept to some. If something’s going to be solved, we need to change the narrative.

We want to encourage unity. We say to white folk—understand the reasons we’ve not been outdoors, and then open your arms and welcome us. Black folks don’t need permission to go out and enjoy, but it sure feels good to be invited.

We realized our vision during our first year in business, proving that “Black folks camp too” was more than just a phrase. And that “too” was intentional. We weren’t here to divide, but unite. In our second year, we brought meaning to the campfire in our logo. The campfire is the oldest, most dependable form of light and heat. It illuminates us, it brings folks together. We want everyone around our campfire.

This business needed to come to fruition, long before all of last year’s events. And maybe without COVID, without Mr. Floyd being killed, without folks storming the Capital, people might still be walking out of DE&I meetings, feeling sad, like they’re not able to do anything. We were able to turn these situations into something good. The Western North Carolina outdoor community has a real opportunity to do something extraordinary. To be on the frontend of amazing change, not just conversation. Let’s use all these beautiful mountains, streams, and conserved land. Let’s take the time to educate folks and get excited. If we’re not taking advantage of this time to create solidarity, what are we doing?

Inspired and empowered by her experiences on the trail, she decided it would be her mission to help others along a similar journey. She founded Blue Ridge Hiking Company, an inclusivity-minded guide service for day hikes and backpacking trips, in Asheville, North Carolina—not far from her hometown of Hendersonville—to do just that. Fueled by the mantra that the trail is there for everyone at every phase of life, she and her crew connect newcomers and experienced hikers alike to the transformative power of the outdoors. 

Hiking changed my values. It broke a lot of my preconceived notions about who I was, and what my options were in the world. I think we all grow up as a product of our societies. Going on the trail and learning who I was through the lens of nature—and in a community that’s very different—is an experience where you feel vulnerable in a positive way. You have to trust other people, and you learn to communicate with people who are very different from you. I think it’s empowering because it’s extremely challenging. You learn that you can do more and that you have interests and abilities you didn’t recognize beforehand. There’s a hiker’s saying that goes, “The trail gives you what you need.” I’ve experienced that and observed that for so many individuals.

Hiking can be a powerful catalyst for positive things. I decided I wanted to do it more, and help others do it as well. So when it became clear that I wanted to start a hiking company—because helping other people get outdoors was all that I would think about—I knew I wanted to move back to Asheville. I wanted to share with people the mountains I loved growing up. And it’s funny because I didn’t grow up with the outdoors so much. It wasn’t like my family camped together or backpacked together. But even so, growing up here a lot of my early memories are tied to the outdoors. Picking blackberries from a wild blackberry patch and seeing bear fur in the briars. Being on the deck at my childhood home and seeing this weird loopy thing sticking up through the deck and it was a snake! Being young and playing in creeks with my brothers and looking for crawdads. I think these mountains just become a part of who you are.

Things have gotten so much better now. But sixteen years ago when I got started, I felt like all the gear, all the information was heavily geared toward guys. It was harder for me to find quality gear; it was harder for me to find stories of young women who had solo hiked the trail. And I think that has definitely changed, but still today you see that there are individuals and communities who don’t haThings have gotten so much better now. But sixteen years ago when I got started, I felt like all the gear, all the information was heavily geared toward guys. It was harder for me to find quality gear; it was harder for me to find stories of young women who had solo hiked the trail. And I think that has definitely changed, but still today you see that there are individuals and communities who don’t have the same resources when it comes to getting outdoors. Or that hasn’t been part of their culture, upbringing, or experience. But we believe the trail is there for everyone at every phase of life.

There are several barriers that keep people from going outdoors. One is inexperience, one is gear, one is guilt (a lot of times, for women), one is fear. So many people come to us and say “We’ve never been hiking before.” People are afraid they aren’t in shape and can’t go far. We have the ability to say, “The trail doesn’t care how far you go or fast you go. And as your guides, we certainly do not care either. We’re here to support you and your experience and your connection to the outdoors.” And it’s not about numbers we’re coming away with, like miles per hour or how far we went. Customizing the trips so they suit people’s needs and they have a positive experience with the outdoors is really big for us. Our focus isn’t to push you past your emotional and physical boundaries. Our focus is to give you a positive connection with the outdoors.

The mountains feel like a grandmother or great grandmother to me. They feel very wise, very maternal, very nurturing. I’ve hiked all over—in all 50 states, on 6 continents. And I have seen some jaw-dropping extreme beauty. But it feels more approachable here. And there is also a wealth of knowledge—you’re never going to know all the secrets of the land. The biodiversity is almost overwhelming, how many different plant species or mushrooms or salamanders you can find in these mountains! It becomes this amazing treasure hunt, and every season is different. And they’re so old; that’s part of it. They’re 480 million years old. That’s part of what gives them that feeling of wisdom.

But they’re so full of life, too. That’s the other thing. A lot of places I hike, the environment is more severe. It’s more arid, or it’s colder. Here, we have water. And we take it for granted! There are so many beautiful streams and rivers, and it rains and rains. It’s so lush and verdant. I think it supports life and creativity and is why the mountains also feel very intimate to me. Because so many of the qualities I love are found in the details. You have to go out into it to get to know it. The views are great, but I think Western North Carolina is best experienced inside the forest.

Having traveled pretty extensively, it’s always this wonderful feeling to come back home and think, “There’s no place I’d rather live.” And, quite frankly, I love Asheville. But my favorite thing about living in Asheville is an hour in every direction. It’s just so great to be able to go to Madison County, go to Hot Springs, hit the Appalachian Trail, be able to go to the Smokies, go to Cherokee or Oconaluftee. To go to Linville Gorge, or head down to the Blue Ridge escarpment and see waterfalls. An hour in every direction is just so great. I love that about Western North Carolina.

Inspiration for the idea was simple, Dempsey says. “I envisioned this person sitting at work at lunchtime on a Friday. And they’re thinking, ‘Should I get outside this weekend? Should I paddle, bike, camp, hike?’ I wanted a product that made the answer of ‘Yes! Do it! Go!’ come much easier.” 

My first real job out of college was for the Coleman Company, the iconic American outdoor gear company. Everything you needed to enjoy the outdoors was available from them, from lanterns to sleeping bags to camping trailers to snowmobiles. Later, when I was working in the kayak industry, I watched people who were thinking about getting into paddle sports for the first time get really intimidated. I could see how these products all look really technical, while everybody else seemed to know what they were doing. 

So when I had the chance to start Sylvansport, what I wanted to do was start the modern-day version of what the old Coleman Company used to be: A company that facilitates the enjoyment of the outdoors in a variety of ways. A company that’s a one-stop shop for everything you need. I wanted to present it in a way that was accessible and convenient. That it’s not all hard-core gear that only experts can enjoy. This is stuff that makes all your outdoor experiences more enjoyable, more organized, and more convenient.

Everything sort of overlaps here. There are so many layers you can put on top of each other that all work. For example, take just the geologic characteristics of the space. We’re the highest peak east of the rockies. You take the climatological layer, and we’re at this intersection zone between Deep South, the Piedmont, and, in the highest peaks of North Carolina, we have an almost Canadian climatological zone. There’s a cultural overlap of all the different people who called this land home before me. It’s not a homogenous culture. And you have this diversity of thought and background that all seems to be united by aspects of mountain beauty and climate. The same is true of flora and fauna. From bug species to salamanders to mammals. This multi-dimensionality gives you the ability to choose the direction and focus of your thoughts on a daily basis. You can choose every morning when you wake up what you want to do that day.

What’s my favorite place to be out in nature? Truly, it’s always evolving. As my early favorites become more discovered, as they change, I find a new spot. That’s one of the things I love about here. The seemingly endless opportunity to find new places.

This past summer, I went camping by myself with my bike for three days. I set off one morning on a gravel ride and discovered three or four new places that I had no idea existed. They were these “micro-places.” One was this spot in the middle of the creek with a rock and little grassy bank and the way the sun shone on it in the afternoon, it was beautiful. You could access it from the road, but when you were down there, no one could see you. I thought, “This is a spot that nobody really uses.” And it’s not necessarily a spot I’ll return to time and time again. It was just the discovery of the day. And I know there will be plenty more. So I don’t really have one place, I have many. And as I’m there, I’m highly aware that I wasn’t the first person—and I won’t be the last person—to be at that spot. 

It’s also so fun to be at a spot I’ve been to a thousand times. And you witness a group or family seeing it through their eyes for the first time. You can feel their excitement. It brings me back to not wanting first-time kayakers to feel intimidated. The first time somebody sees a waterfall you may have seen a hundred times, it makes you happy to see them getting the enjoyment out of it that you got the first time you saw it.

I really think what makes this area never grow old or become weary with me is exemplified when you fly overhead. You see what appears to be endless green folds and rocky outcroppings and streams. You know that in an entire lifetime you’ll never be able to find every nook and cranny in them. There’s something so compelling and exciting about having an unlimited supply of places to discover.