Anjou Spa, a local spa in Bend, found itself in a pinch when the building it was in burned down last September. Over a year later, owner Jenna Walden and her team have reinvented the spa as it rises from the ashes in a new location.

Jenna Walden was stunned when Anjou Spa was destroyed in a fire last September. With seven years of ownership under her belt, a natural disaster was one thing the seasoned entrepreneur hadn’t expected.

Walden, who has a background in architecture and real estate development, soon came to view the tragedy as an opportunity. “We did some soul searching,” said Walden. “Managing the day-to-day operations of a business that was open seven days a week meant that we never had the time to dive deep. Once the shock wore off, we had the chance to rethink everything.”

The former location just east of downtown, said Jacqueline Smith, PR representative for Anjou, had never been entirely ideal. “Parking and visibility were challenges,” she said. It was immediately clear that fire wouldn’t be the end of Anjou’s story. By November, Anjou had taken up residence in a temporary location, a vacation rental house on Bend’s west side. Then the decision-making began around a permanent home for Anjou. Rebuilding meant rethinking everything from locale and floorplan to paint, spa slippers and service menu. It was a chance to recreate Anjou with an eye toward creating a premium experience for clients.

When a new-construction space at the base of college hill on Bend’s west side became available, Walden took it. The advantages were clear: Anjou could be designed from the studs up, in the heart of a flourishing neighborhood near the homes of many of the spa’s local client base.

“We thought a lot about what kind of Bend spa we are, how do we fit in this place that is popular and trending,” said Walden. Rather than go for busy centers like downtown or the Old Mill District, Walden chose calmer, more accessible digs that where locals and visitors alike would feel welcome. The new location “is a restful space between the west side and NorthWest Crossing,” she said. “We are of course open to the tourist population, but the core of our clientele is local. We wanted to cater to that.”

Rethought, too, were Anjou’s guiding principles. “We’d always been Bend’s green spa and organic spa,” explained Smith. “Now was a chance to re-own that and to challenge ourselves to do it even better.” Anjou re-committed to organic products, including Eminence Organics, a line out of Hungary so pure that its products are edible, for treatments. But “organic” didn’t stop with cosmetic products—the filter was applied to everything the spa would need to operate, from brochure paper to spa robes. “Local” was the secondary filter applied, leading Walden to round out the spa’s offerings and accoutrements with Oregon-made items. “We embraced the makers,” said Walden. “There are so many artisans and artists working in Bend.”

Place and philosophy in order, now it was on to the design. Walden drew on her past experience in architecture and real estate design to reimagine Anjou. “I like to create a backstory for each project,” she said. “It helps me focus.” For the new Anjou, the backstory was rooted in Bend’s past. Walden imagined a family living on the western frontier around 1910, creating wealth from timber and ranching. Eventually, that family moves to town and builds a home. What would it look like?

Walden said, “Our style is Edwardian with high ceilings and rustic touches. It’s a modern aesthetic accented with materials of the region, like Ponderosa pine, Douglas fir, and volcanic rock.” Entering the spa will feel like entering someone’s home. The lobby has slate floors, natural light and casual seating. “The relaxation room is a formal space, with a fireplace. Colors are warm and light low. The couple’s treatment room is lush, like a master bedroom, with nice touches like crystal lamps.” The overall feeling is welcoming and true to place. “We’re a friend recommending to people—this is how you can relax in a way that is unique to this place.”

An amenity that the old Anjou didn’t have but that is sure to be a hit is the sand room, or Korean sauna. Six inches of sand sits over a floor with radiant heating. The room has infrared heaters with a starry night LED light show installed overhead. “It’s a great place to stretch, relax and meditate,” said Smith. At 140 degrees, the sand room is cooler than a traditional Swedish sauna, but because it’s lit with infrared heat lamps, the heat warms the body directly, instead of the air. “It’s a great place to heat up your body before a treatment,” explained Walden.

Anjou is set to open in early October, just over a year after the devastating fire. The fire may be in the past, a lingering catalyst to the new amazing Anjou, but Walden doesn’t intend for it to be forgotten. Purposeful touches throughout the spa will remind guests—and staff who stuck with Walden through the rebuild process—of Anjou’s origin story. The lobby is accentuated with wood that has been charred and lacquered, in a Japanese process called shou sugi ban. Explained Walden, “Plants will emerge from this charred wood, representing what we’ve been through. Fire brings life; even devastation can make us stronger.”

DrinkTanks meets a growing demand for craft beer containers.

DrinkTanks, founded in Bend in 2013, strives to meet a growing demand for premium craft beer containers. Two years of research and development had gone into the company’s growler that doubles as a personal keg, designed to preserve the freshness, temperature, carbonation and overall quality of your favorite premium craft beer. The company, which has thirty employees, imports stainless steel, vacuum-insulated bodies for the growlers and personal kegs, which are powder coated, laser-engraved and assembled by hand, one at time, in Bend.

Nicholas Hill worked on starting the company with his father, Tim Hill, a retired professor at Central Oregon Community College, who died in 2011. Drinktanks have two distinguishing characteristics: a truly leak-proof lid and the ability to hold sixty pounds of pressure to preserve carbonation. The keg cap accessory kit allows drinkers to also dispense from the growler while preserving carbonation up to a week.

A 2013 Kickstarter campaign for DrinkTanks raised about $240,000 from nearly 2,000 backers. Two years later, a second campaign for the Kegulator Cap and The Juggernaut, a 128-ounce growler, raised more than $300,000 from more than 2,000 backers.

In June 2016, DrinkTanks moved from Bend’s west side to triple its footprint at a 17,250-square-foot facility off Empire Road in Bend.

The company has recently been moving into the coffee-drinking arena, too, launching a line of vacuum insulated cups earlier this year. The line won the Best New Product award at Coffee Fest, a large specialty coffee trade show in Nashville.

“A few hundred breweries across the country are selling our products, as well as several dozen large retailers including REI and backcountry.com,” said marketing director Jackson Esselman.

Sales are growing, and being in Bend has played into the company’s success, he said. “Bend is a hub of craft breweries and one of the most sought-after outdoor towns in the country, so being based here gives us instant credibility. It’s what started our company and fuels us, so rather than outsourcing labor and production, maybe it’s not the most profitable, but it’s true to our roots.”

Tribe Pilot is an app that will make planning multiday outdoor adventures easier.

Last summer, after a five-year bender in startup land, Bend’s Matt Smith took some time to regroup and play. The biggest adventure of the summer was a mountain biking trip into the backcountry of British Columbia with a group of friends. In planning it over months, the friends sent hundreds of emails—maps, gear lists, pack lists, mountain bike reviews—amid tons of useless banter. Locating the map? That was a twenty-minute affair.

By the end of the trip, photos were spread across four platforms and the email string had 250 messages. It was on that trip, cranking up and down the mountains of B.C., that Smith found his next adventure: finding a way to solve that problem of decentralization, one likely shared by many lovers of the outdoors.

Smith’s app acts as a trip dashboard, compiling critical trip details in one location for easy access to trip dates, locations, pack lists and assignments.

Tribe Pilot is largely a virtual company, relying on outside contractors for much of the work. It has been self-funded so far, and at the Outfound startup festival in Hood River in June, it won the popular vote in the concept-stage startup competition. (The prize was essentially bragging rights.)

The app was in beta during the summer, and the official launch is set for September 15. Smith said he has some great launch partners that will give them a rapid growth curve out of the gate.

“Several million users would be spectacular, at some point, but currently we are focusing on making our first 1,000 extremely happy,” he said. “If we can do that, then a million users are around the corner. If you pinned me down and tickled my feet, I would have to tell you that by the end of 2018 we are targeting 100,000 users who are constantly planning adventures and inviting their friends.”

His strategy is to collect user feedback metrics to rapidly iterate the product next year. By year three, they are looking to have a loyal user base that considers Tribe Pilot an integral part of all of their outdoor adventures that uses it as their tribe’s indispensable platform.

LeadMethod is a software startup based in Bend that closes the gap between leads and sales.

For businesses grappling with the steps between leads and sales, a Bend startup has the solution. LeadMethod’s eponymous software platform helps this along, generating feedback about lead status, expected close dates, pipeline projections and other data that can increase sales, especially for companies that sell through distributors and independent representatives. Founded by Justin Johnson in 2014, the company is poised for growth.

“The market continues to tell us that we are a great product-market fit and there is a big opportunity for us,” said Johnson, a veteran software product manager.

In the last two years, the startup doubled its revenue and number of staff. The team of ten is seeking to hire more sales, development and client services staff. In the last year, the company has been investing in its technology to better integrate it with other software products, something that large customers require.

The next six to twelve months are key to growth. The company has the technology, talent and a strong customer base, so taking it to the next level likely requires fundraising, a larger office space in Bend, and a second office in Portland.

“The good news is we have fantastic current investors and many other investors that want to be a part of the new raise,” said Johnson.

He has the background for the endeavor, too. For fifteen years prior to LeadMethod, he was in a software product management position, with experience in startups and large companies.

“Dozens of times I have identified good market opportunities and built software products to fit,” he said. “I applied the same best practice to understand our target market, test the market with the idea, then finally build the market to sell. It worked. It worked through lots of interviews, research, and looking at what other companies have tried and failed or succeeded with in this market.”

LeadMethod’s silver bullet is that it addresses a specific customer need, a software problem that no one else has solved, said Johnson.

“In the first two years we solved the problem, and now it is time to apply the same model at a much larger scale. There are more than 30,000 companies in the U.S. that should be using our software, and five times that globally.”

Another distinguishing factor is that while many people have good ideas, not all have the ability to execute them.

“Our team at LeadMethod are masters of execution, and that is the reason for our success,” said Johnson, who, while crediting his team, also possesses the confidence that startup leaders need.

“We’re in a very good position … this will be one of Oregon’s next great companies.”

Cairn will deliver the best new outdoor products to your door once a month so that you can always be ready for your next adventure.

Cairn is a monthly subscription box service of products aimed at inspiring and equipping people for outdoor adventure and discovery. As such, it offers consumers an introduction to brands and their products, and brands gain exposure and data from the market.

Last year, the Bend-based company raised $2 million in funding to expand its offerings, team and community. Since then, it has brought on an outdoor-products veteran to guide its curated selections of gear, and digital specialists to analyze how best to attract and serve customers online. The company now has a team of seventeen and has shipped more than 1.5 million products in its four-year history.

Rob Little and Jared Peterson co-founded the company, having met while pursuing MBAs at the Wharton Executive Education Program at the University of Pennsylvania. They discovered they shared a passion for the outdoors as well as startups. Peterson’s background was in operations and tech. He was a part of the team that launched the Apple watch, while Little, an aerospace engineer, worked on deep-space vehicles and stealth fighter jets.

They said they like how flexible and nimble a startup can be, with the ability to be able to react and engage the brand without having to sit back to gain approvals from higher-ups. For example, Cairn, which began as a monthly subscription service ($29.95 per month), introduced Obsidian, a premium outdoor subscription box, in December 2015. Obsidian is a quarterly subscription box service priced at $199 per quarter (including domestic shipping), filled with gear valued at more than $300, and including anything from packs and cooking supplies to outdoor electronics.

“The decision to launch was quick,” said Peterson. “It was clear it was in the market’s interest, with the brands of the core product at a higher price point than the monthly service. It took a few months to execute it.”

Little offered the following advice to anyone aspiring to startup-dom or struggling with it: “Surround yourself with incredible people who motivate and inspire you to help your business, from your partner or co-founder to investors and advisors. It’s not something you do alone.”

They say that necessity is the mother of invention. That’s certainly the case with Sam Powell, who started sewing frame packs and bikepack accessories a few years ago because he needed them for his own commutes. The creations soon turned into a small side business for Powell, who runs the sewing shop at Bend’s Gear Fix. He sews the hanging bike bags in his home studio and markets them under the name Three Sisters Threadworks. We talked to Powell, 34, about his side business and the allure of bikepacking.

You have a small business sewing/making frame bags and accessories. How did you get started?

I started just making bags for myself and my bike. I would then make new ones and sell the old ones at the Gear Fix, where I run the sewing shop, and then at some point I started making them directly for other people. Since then I’ve put together a little production shop in my garage so I can work when my son is napping and at other odd hours.

Have you seen much growth in demand for your products?

It seems like there is quite a bit of growth in interest, but I’ve only been doing this a couple of years so I don’t have a real long-term perspective on it. There definitely is interest though. We’ve done a couple of intro to bikepacking clinics at the Gear Fix and they were well attended.

Is it like Hairclub for Men, are you the owner and a customer, too? How often do you get out and use your creations?

I am my first customer, for sure, and, yes, both in the sense that I enjoy making the bags and also enjoy using them. I use the bags I make for daily commuting and I typically get out for four or five bike overnight trips each year.

How long have you been involved in the sport and what is the primary appeal for you?

I’ve been riding bicycles and camping for my entire life but only put them together a couple of years ago when I started making the bags. I started making the bags primarily because it looked interesting and then started camping with my bike after that. Making bags is a side business, so I try to only take on projects that are both interesting to me and for people who really appreciate it. I’ve really enjoyed having a consistent creative outlet beyond my day-to-day of repairing gear that other people have designed and built.

Going through the Bend Venture Conference with two different startups, Ryan Andrews was intimately familiar with the state’s largest angel conference. Becoming the manager of the BVC’s first social impact fund, which debuted last year, offered Andrews another way to get involved with the conference—and exercise his investment expertise. Andrews wears many hats, but most of them involve finance. In addition to managing the newest BVC fund, which requires him to both solicit investors and evaluate investable startups, he’s also a partner in Trueline Capital, a Bend-based real estate fund. We recently caught up with Andrews to learn more about the BVC’s social impact, the interest in socially responsible investing and his new side project, a series of letters written to thoughtful investors.

First, how do you describe the Bend Venture Conference’s Social Impact Fund?

The fund invests in for-profit, early-stage companies that have a social or environmental impact as a core part of their business model. We purposely made the definition broad; we wanted to open the floodgates and then be able to decide who had a stronger or weaker social impact proposition. More than thirty companies applied last year. One of our two winners, Hemex Health, creates a portable, inexpensive device that can be used to screen for malaria and sickle cell disease in developing countries. Their social impact was off the charts as well as their potential revenue and market share.

What misconceptions do people have about social impact investing?

I sometimes get pushback that social impact startups aren’t viable or that they generate lower financial returns to investors. But the evidence is stacking up that there’s a strong business case for social impact startups that solve real, societal problems. Society at large is willing to reward these companies with revenue and market share.

The Bend Venture Conference takes place in October. Is there anything new or different about this year’s social impact track?

We have a lot of momentum coming off of last year. People are excited, especially after watching Hemex Health go on to raise another $1.7 million in a Series A round. Our fund was the first investor in the company. Last year, we raised $110,000 for the fund, about half from institutional investors. This year we’re aiming for $150,000. We’re also doing a Reg D 506(c) offering for the fund, which allows us to advertise publicly for investors.

You also manage investments for your day job, a partner at Bend-based Trueline Capital. What does Trueline do?

Trueline Capital is a boutique real estate investment fund focused on residential construction and development in the Pacific Northwest. After the last recession, most community banks stopped lending into the residential construction market, even as the economy came back, leaving a lot of these projects without a good source of capital. We manage the fund on behalf of our investors, investing in smaller, in-city and infill residential developments, usually projects that are too small for a large, private investment and not eligible for bank financing. We’re currently invested in more than thirty-five projects, valued at $32 million.

Lastly, tell us about your Thoughtful Investor series of letters.

I found myself having a lot of one-on-one conversations with investors about how money and monetary systems really work. I started writing about these conversations in a serialized letter format at thoughtfulinvestor.co. The goal is to write sophisticated, but accessible, letters to investors. Recent topics include the role of central banks, the importance of hard assets and whether we’re in a bubble. I also plan on writing about cryptocurrencies, the coming artificial intelligence/machine learning labor revolution and the innovations occurring in real estate finance. It’s pure thought leadership and a chance for me to start these conversations.

The No-Bake Cookie Co. went from a project for a family-owned deli to one the next great Bend companies.

Mmm. Cookies like grandma used to, well, not bake. Carol Healy started making old-fashioned, no-bake cookies for her family-owned Expressway Corner Market & Deli in Bend, and soon the nostalgic recipe dovetailed with one of the hottest food demands: gluten-free products. The wholesome treats, made with natural nut butters, premium certified gluten-free whole-grain oats, butter, Madagascar vanilla, cane sugar and milk also boast no preservatives, hydrogenated oils, corn syrup, wheat flour or genetically modified anything.

The cookies developed a fervent fan base among the market’s customers, mostly from the Southeast neighborhood, who head there for burgers and other housemade dishes at the cafe-convenience store-gas station at the Reed Market Road and 15th Street roundabout.

In 2011, Healy and her husband, Tom Healy, created the No-Bake Cookie Co., and it took off quickly that year after she presented the sweet goods to Nordstrom. The high-end retail department store’s buyer and her team had grown up eating no-bake cookies and loved them. The gluten-free certification fit Nordstrom’s demographic and the timing was perfect because demand was building, yet not many products had been certified as gluten free. Stores were looking for them.

Now the cookies are in thousands of stores nationwide—from Whole Foods, Kroger stores and Fred Meyer to Alberstons, Safeway, Market of Choice and Newport Avenue Market—plus convenience stores, including Sheetz, with 550 stores. The growth prompted the Healys to recruit their son, Eric, as chief operating officer, who left his ten-year career as an aerospace mechanical engineer for Boeing and other big corporations. All twenty employees work in the 5,000-square-foot facility in Bend, except for a Los Angeles-based national sales director.

Entrepreneurship is also in the family’s blood. Eric’s grandfather, Bill Healy, founded the Mt. Bachelor ski area in 1957, and his uncle, Cameron Healy, founded Kettle Chips, now an international manufacturer of potato chips, tortilla chips and nut butters in Salem.

The company hit its goal on funding the recent growth with a summer funding round on CircleUp, a crowdfunding platform that serves consumer brands seeking to raise money from accredited investors.

Eric Healy said manufacturing in general has its challenges. Shipping from Bend, in particular, can be challenging, especially last winter, when big snowstorms slowed semi-trucks delivering ingredients. A local advantage has been working with FoundersPad, which is selective in funding and mentoring early stage companies.

“They have been very instrumental, helping with all aspects of the business, working on margins, supply chain, fundraising and branding,” said Eric.

Flyte Camp, a vintage trailer restoration company in Bend, breaks the mold in the camp trailer industry with its new line of trailers that look vintage, but have modern luxuries.

It all started with a 1958 Shasta Airflyte. To some, a heap of aluminum and rubber tires rusting in an overgrown junkyard. But to Anna and Justin Scribner, it was a piece of living history that deserved a second chance. Their work to restore the vintage trailer to its former gleaming glory spawned a successful business and a popular TV show, but, more importantly, it marked the beginning of their crusade to restore American craftsmanship to camping trailers.

Almost a decade and close to 100 renovations later, Flyte Camp is embarking on a new adventure: designing and building their own model of trailers. Dubbed the Neutron, the trailers are high-end and designed in mid-century vintage style but with modern amenities.

Justin said that the idea came when the trend of vintage trailers picked up and other companies started putting out their own models that looked vintage. But those trailers “missed the mark” when it came to the craftsmanship that is the hallmark of the trailers made in the mid-twentieth century.

The Neutrons are made-to-order, three-at-a-time at Flyte Camp’s Bend shop. Designed and made using all the knowledge they’ve gleaned from years working with vintage trailers and racking up insight into their craftsmanship, the Neutrons are dripping with nostalgia.

Adding the Neutron felt like the logical next step to Anna and Justin, who wanted to make their mark on the retro camping trailer market. Even as they drive the business forward, they do so with one eye on the rearview mirror of history and that first trailer that marked the beginning of a lifetime infatuation with classic design. Anna recalled seeing that Shasta Airflyte when Justin brought it home, almost a decade ago now.

“Man, the first time I saw that thing, I walked through it and fell in love,” she said. “I loved all the mid-century detailing and the quality that was in the small things.”

Justin, a contractor by trade, echoes that sentiment when he talks about what sparked the idea for the business.

“We’re preserving a piece of Americana,” he said. “It doesn’t need to be rotting out in a field somewhere.”

Like many upstarts, success didn’t come overnight. The work grew slowly and organically in the first few years. In some ways, they didn’t know they had a business at all. The couple spent several years buying, restoring and selling vintage camp trailers as a hobby before officially launching Flyte Camp in 2009. Less than a year into it, their renovations caught the attention of a television producer. He offered them a spot on Extreme RVs, then their own show, “Flippin’ RVs,” which is now in its third season on the Travel Channel.

Justin grew up camping in trailers around the Pacific Northwest, and has a passion for all things nostalgic, but especially vintage camping trailers.

“[Vintage trailers] all need to be saved, in my opinion,” he said. “We’re too much of a throwaway society anymore. They should be out on the road.”

One of the reasons the business has been so successful is that they know how to capture the look and feel of an era through their restorations. They also capitalized on a trend that has swept American culture in the last decade.

“People just want that experience of stepping back in time, escaping to an earlier era,” said Anna. “That’s one thing we try to do, is make sure that our restorations are era correct, are the real, true look and feel of the year.”

The business has turned them into experts in the field, and the couple is sought after around the country for their design and craftsmanship.

Despite the TV show, the business and building the new trailers, Justin and Anna are still out camping as much as possible. Though today, they’ve traded in the vintage trailer for the Neutron, taking it camping to places around Central Oregon such as Crescent Lake and Paradise Campground.

Justin and Anna are hoping the Neutrons will stand the test of time like the vintage trailers that they restore.

“Hopefully, we’re putting out something that will last another sixty years,” said Justin.

Big Story owners Josh and Heidi Spencer are hoping they can finally live that bookstore owners’ elusive dream: actually having time to read.

The Bookmark, the longstanding used bookstore on the corner of Greenwood and Third Street in Bend, is getting a sequel. Josh and Heidi Spencer, who live in Bend and own the iconic The Last Bookstore in Los Angeles, bought The Bookmark in February, renovated the building and renamed it Big Story.

With Big Story, the Spencers are hoping they can finally live that bookstore owners’ elusive dream: actually having time to read.

Heidi and Josh are married with two small children. Though they moved to Bend two years ago, Josh still spends a week in L.A. each month at The Last Bookstore. The two didn’t have plans to open a bookstore in Bend until The Bookmark came up for sale. Josh described buying the used bookstore as “a little challenge for me to take on.”

Beginning in February, they began renovating everything, including the shelving, by hand. “That means something to us,” said Heidi, “to create something that we want to be in.”

The Spencers are also dedicated to building a community with the bookstore, hoping to keep the previous owners’ loyal customers coming in to buy and sell books. “People have been very open to the changes that we’ve made,” said Heidi.

Big Story is the second independent bookstore that has opened in Bend within the last year; Roundabout Books opened in NorthWest Crossing in the fall. But Central Oregon isn’t the only place where bookstores are having a renaissance. Despite competition from Amazon and e-readers, indie bookstores are thriving across the United States. Between 2009 and 2014, independent bookstores rose by 27 percent, according to the American Booksellers Association.

Big Story is a new chapter for the Spencers. “It is a challenge,” said Heidi. “It’s a real juggling act,” she continued, referring to their challenge in figuring out how to run this bookstore versus their L.A. bookstore, which is a cultural destination in the city as the largest new and used independent bookstore in California (by square footage and the number of books sold). “Our heart is to be a local, independent bookstore,” she said.

“It really is a family-owned, family-run business,” she added. “[Big Story] is this manageable, fun thing in a small community.”

Bunk and Brew offers affordable lodging for travelers in Bend—and a free beer when you check-in.

Frankie Maduzia and J Charles Griggs had the same goal: create a place with a bed for travelers, and beer for good measure, in Bend. Both avid travelers but novice entrepreneurs, Maduzia and Griggs had a serendipitous meeting that resulted in Bend’s first hostel, Bunk+Brew.

Opened in January, Bunk+Brew is located in the oldest brick building in Bend, the historic Lucas House in the north section of downtown. Maduzia and Griggs, who both recently moved to Bend from Portland, had noticed a void in Bend’s lodging options during their pre-move visits.

“I love coming here to climb at Smith Rock, and I don’t mind being dirty and roughing it sleeping in a tent or my car, but sometimes a shower and a bed can’t be beat,” said Maduzia.

About a year ago, Maduzia and Griggs met through a mutual friend, discovered their shared passion for traveling and lodging and decided to go into business together.

Before getting into the hostel business, Maduzia worked in the medicine and technology industry. Maduzia has traveled all over the world, beginning with a trip to Ecuador when he was seventeen. His partner, Griggs, is a licensed attorney and also has ample travel experience. In 2015, Griggs traveled from Mexico to Panama and ended his journey in Cuba, visiting a total of eight countries and staying in more than fifty hostels. During his travels, Griggs noticed a trend of more young people choosing to stay in hostels rather than hotels, himself included.

“Millennials all over the world are on the move,” said Griggs. “Hostels are not only incredibly cost effective, they also offer a community atmosphere.”

The first guests at Bunk+Brew were from France and Germany, and more guests from around the world have stayed there since. The hostel already has a map stuck with pins, representing the global origins of the hostel’s guests.

Built in 1910, the Lucas House has a history of accommodating travelers, predominantly as a boarding house. The seller supported the business partners’ vision for the property, hinting that their plans to continue its legacy sealed the deal.

The hostel sleeps twenty-four people in seven rooms, with beds in a shared room starting at $33 per night. Private bedrooms can be booked starting at $68 per night—an affordable rate considering the average night in a local hotel room cost $121 last year, according to a report produced for Visit Bend. Guests also have access to a full kitchen and laundry facilities. Community living and dining room spaces encourage guests to mingle over coffee in the morning or beers from local breweries in the evening, beginning with a free beer for each guest upon check-in.

“We hope the hostel will be a welcoming place for all ages,” said Maduzia, who envisions guests stemming from a variety of demographics coming to visit this “young, fresh, hip house.”

Wildflower Mobile Boutique sells affordable—and adorable—fashion in a renovated retro delivery truck.

With rising rent prices and falling retail vacancy rates, more new businesses around Bend are sprouting wheels. One of those is Wildflower Mobile Boutique, which sells a curated mix of clothes and accessories.

Mariah Young, 34, opened the truck two years ago this fall. Originally from La Grande in Northeast Oregon, Young had been working as a dental assistant in Bend.

“I always wanted my own business or my own store, but I knew that would be a huge commitment,” she said. “I had the seen the mobile retail businesses that were taking off, and I thought I should do a clothing store out of one.”

Young found a former Frito-Lay delivery truck that was being used by a plumber as a shop vehicle. With the help of her husband and a couple friends, the truck was renovated and open for business in just four months as a mobile boutique. The result was a light and bright space, with a few racks for a curated collection of clothes and jewelry and a small dressing room. “It honestly all came to fruition in a really incredible way,” she said.

The truck is parked at Spoken Moto every Thursday, and Young spends the rest of the time bringing the truck to private events, where people can have a personal shopping experience, usually from their homes. Without the overhead costs of a brick and mortar store, Young turned a profit in less than a year.

“It was something that hadn’t been done here,” said Young. “I also know Bend’s a very progressive town and very supportive of local businesses, so that was something I felt like I had going for me. This town is great that way.”

We caught up with CrushCore founder Adam Krefting to learn more about how he came up with the idea, why he moved his startup from Texas and what he’s learned from his entrepreneurial ventures, or rather, adventures.

One of the most common questions that CushCore founder Adam Krefting gets from mountain bikers who hear about his invention is ‘When can I try it?’ The enthusiasm for Krefting’s patent pending product is understandable. The CushCore inner-tire suspension system promises to prevent flats, in addition to offering more stability, traction and a smoother ride.

A foam injected mold insert that sits on the inner radius of your mountain bike tire, CushCore serves numerous functions, but acts primarily as inner-tire suspension that dampens impacts and provides a smoother, more consistent ride. It also improves durability by preventing impact-related rim damage and the dreaded pinch flat.

CushCore began selling its products in March, and you can find them in many Bend bike shops, as well as online.

You noted that you’re a natural tinkerer. What was the process for inventing CushCore?

I started with a hacksaw, and I just cut foam into a trapezoid shape, glued it into a ring, and inserted it into my tire. After I realized that worked, even in a primitive form, I set about trying to find the ideal material. I wanted something that was super lightweight but could also handle repeated impacts. I probably tried fifty kinds of foam, and all sorts of different ways to shape it. At one point, I brought a giant piece of foam to a woodworking shop to see if they could mill it. It disintegrated. It was a two-year process to get where we are today. Now we use an injection molded foam.

CushCore began selling its inner tire suspension system in March. What’s the response been?

If we can get people to try it, they love it. We’ve received lots of positive reviews from pro riders across the country who have tested it. We get some concerns on our Facebook page from people who are worried about adding 250 grams of weight to their wheel. But you can often offset that with a lighter tire or wheel. More significantly, riders say our product increases ride quality and overall speed. That’s something we’ve also been able to back up with demos and tests.

You moved Kreft Moto and CushCore to Bend from Austin last year. What brought you here?

We were interested in living in a smaller community, and the strength of the startup programs here were a big draw. My wife is a physical therapist; she got a job at St. Charles and that made our decision. So far, it’s been a great fit. I’ve found excellent techs for Kreft Moto and EDCO connected me with CushCore’s first employee, who used to work in Honda’s R&D department. We also ended up winning $18,000 in grants from the Bend Venture Conference and the Venture Out Festival.

In addition to Kreft Moto and CushCore, you’ve launched a couple other businesses. What have you learned?

You have to be willing to try and fail. It’s easy to look to people for advice about what kind of business to start, whether it’s a good financial risk, etc. But at some point you have to get comfortable answering those questions yourself. If you think you have a good idea, give it a try—you’ll know in a short time whether it will work.

A mix of desperation and determination fueled Bill Smith and his enduring contributions to Central Oregon.

It’s approaching midnight on the Deschutes River and the scene is unusually quiet at the Brooks-Scanlon lumber mill. A workers’ strike has silenced the churning economic backbone of Bend, which, in 1973, supports many of the nearly 15,000 residents, directly or indirectly. The night watchman patrols the riverbank.

The river’s current is slackened by a dam and the banks have eroded from years of industrial activity. As the watchman goes, he snips off pieces of willow and pushes the tender shoots into the riparian mud, a minute reparatory act. The river’s surface, temporarily relieved of some of the logs that typically choke it, tempts him to drop in a fishing line, an act strictly forbidden on this liquid conveyor belt to the mill. Then it dawned on him: “I’m the night watchman; the only one who’d catch me is me.”

It wasn’t a job that William Smith was used to doing. Among the company’s top brass, he was pitching in to cover skeleton crew shifts during the work stoppage. The strike would end, but the problems were just beginning for the logging industry. Later that year, Smith would be named president of Brooks Resources Corp., the four-year-old real estate subsidiary of the timber monolith. He knew timber resources were limited; someday soon, the mill would close. But, boy, did he like that stretch of the river. Despite its industrial baggage, the site had potential. He wouldn’t have a chance to act on his notion, though, for two decades.

Fast forward to 1993, past an entire collapse of the Pacific Northwest timber industry, past Smith launching his own development company, and past a visit to San Antonio’s River Walk—where the shops, restaurants and public art lining the riverbank inspired him. Timber giants such as Crown Pacific and Weyerhaeuser are conducting fire sales on their timber holdings. Among those lands are several parcels bundled with the idle Bend sawmill, which most buyers considered the ugly stepchild in the portfolio. Smith, a consummate dealmaker, forms the River Bend Limited Partnership, and calls up the likely bidders with a proposal: buy the land and give him the unwanted mill, for a price. It didn’t take long for him to put together a deal.

It would take nearly five years—“four years, eleven months and two days,” Smith is quick to say—to funnel his plan through Oregon land use laws and get city zoning approval to begin creating the 270-acre Old Mill District. Central to that was cleaning up more than two-and-a-half miles of the riverbank that had been off-limits to the public for most of a century. The area opened in late 2000 with Regal Cinemas and Ben & Jerry’s ice cream shop as its flagship tenants. Today it has more than sixty businesses, including local and national restaurants, retail stores and nine historic buildings. The most iconic is the mill powerhouse, with its 200-foot-tall silver smokestacks, that now houses an REI store. A footbridge bedecked with colorful flags connects the shopping area to an outdoor amphitheater that hosts year-round events and attracts musicians on national and international touring circuits. Four hotels overlook the retail-lined streets and the walking and cycling paths that parallel the river and link to Bend’s extensive network of parks and trails. Thousands of people paddle or float by on this lazy section of the river, where otters frolic, offering evidence of the habitat’s restored integrity.

While the Old Mill District is Smith’s signature piece, and widely credited as integral to Bend’s rebirth, his prior work with Brooks Resources helped shape Central Oregon’s evolution from timber outpost to outdoor mecca. From Black Butte Ranch, Sisters and La Pine to major developments in Bend, such as Awbrey Butte and Mount Bachelor Village, Smith oversaw work that helped transform Brooks-Scanlon from a mill operator to a purveyor of destination lifestyles—work that helped rebrand and redefine the region in the process. He launched William Smith Properties in 1985, extending his holdings to vast ranches in Eastern Oregon. His wife and co-owner of the firm, Patricia “Trish” Smith, has taken the lead on their significant civic and philanthropic work, supporting arts and culture, education, and healthcare in Bend and throughout the state.

Known widely in the Central Oregon business community as a consummate dealmaker, Bill Smith turns 76 in August, with no intention of being more laissez-faire, even as the couple’s son and daughter assume responsibilities in the family’s thriving enterprises. By all accounts, including his own, it’s Smith’s pure love of work, ox-like persistence, obsession with detail and unrelenting desire to live nowhere but Bend that have allowed him to make a lasting mark on Central Oregon.

“Bill has cemented a place in our community’s history with his vision for the Old Mill District, whether you agree with his vision or not, and there are those in the community who didn’t necessarily want his vision,” said Kelly Cannon-Miller, executive director for the Deschutes County Historical Society. “It has had an undeniable impact on changing the face of Bend and what it means to visit here.”

Last summer, the Old Mill District was a finalist for the Urban Land Institute’s Global Award Program, alongside twenty-five others from Paris and Geneva to Manhattan and Mexico City, said Ken Kay, whose San Francisco-based design firm applied its specialty, linking urbanism and ecology, to Smith’s project.

Smith, known for his laconic style, sloughs it off. “It’s just fun,” he said. “I like to fix, rewind, repair, redo, rejuvenate. Historic preservation’s fun. Doing that gives you a place to know where you came from.”

The Making of a Dealmaker

You could argue that Smith pours so much into his work because he doesn’t know how to have fun. But it’s more complicated than that. The value of a day’s work was a notion embedded in him as a child. His maternal grandmother lived with his family when he was growing up, and she spoke with a heavy German accent. Trish recalled that the matriarch would sit in her rocking chair, always with a book, dispensing her favorite piece of advice: “You must verk.”

Smith, born in Denver to a mechanical engineer and a homemaker, the oldest boy of five children, launched a forty-hour-per-week lawn and garden business when he was a high school sophomore. He capitalized on the fact that the school was overcrowded. Half of the students, including Smith, had classes from 6 a.m. to noon, and the other half went until 5 p.m. Once he turned 16, he worked for his workaholic uncle’s growing trucking company, doing office work and filling in on the dock.

He graduated from the University of Colorado, Boulder in 1964 with a degree in economics, but the best employers avoided hiring men who might be drafted, so Smith joined the Navy. His four years of service included twenty-two months aboard a destroyer that bombed the shores of Vietnam, rescued pilots who’d been shot down and searched for those who missed aircraft carrier landings. In Saigon, as an Officer in Charge of Construction, he slogged through Agent Orange during the Tet Offensive.

When he returned, he entered the MBA program at Stanford. In 1969, after Smith’s first year in the program, Mike Hollern, president of Brooks-Scanlon, recruited him and another graduate student to work for the lumber company during the summer, having interviewed about a dozen candidates. The company was founding its real estate subsidiary, Brooks Resources. That October, back in Palo Alto, Smith was at a party when a dark-haired, blue-eyed, fourth-grade schoolteacher walked in. He asked if he could buy her a beer. They were engaged at Christmas, married in June and moved to Bend in July 1970.

“Bill had turned down offers in L.A. and New York and chose Bend, where he could fish and hunt, which he did a bit, but not nearly as much as his imagination held,” said Trish.

Maverick Methods

Newly formed Brooks Resources was creating Black Butte Ranch, and Hollern placed Smith in charge of marketing. Hollern recalled, “We did so many things differently—as young kids, we didn’t know any better—and I credit Bill with the marketing ideas: no paid advertising or print media.” Instead, Smith had frame-worthy posters made of Black Butte Ranch landscapes surrounding the undeveloped vacation home lots on 1,800 acres. He got the membership lists for all the private golf courses in Northern California, Oregon and Southern Washington.

“Every doctor, dentist, mortician, plane-owner,” Smith said, “anyone who made enough to afford a second home.” The vacation home concept had just arrived in Central Oregon with Sunriver and Inn at the Seventh Mountain (now Seventh Mountain Resort). The market research showed they could expect to sell about fifty lots at first. The Black Butte Ranch site had a natural advantage—people had to drive by it on their way to the other resorts, Smith said, “and they’d have gotten this unsolicited, nice piece. We didn’t have to spend as much to recruit them, we just had to get them to stop as they went by.”

Smith worked with a local designer and McCann Erickson ad agency in Portland to create the posters. The only information was a single slogan (which the property still uses): “There is a place … Black Butte Ranch.”

James Crowell, former communications director for Brooks-Scanlon, worked with Bill on the project. “Smith’s marketing approach was pure genius and set the tone for the way Brooks Resources sold property,” he said. “There was a very strict architectural review committee and they started with a limited number of lots to limit speculation. They wanted people to buy a lot, build a house and bring their family.”

It was a maverick approach for the 1970s, with the dawn of timeshares in Mexico and direct marketing brochures with price lists and huckster-like radio and TV pitches. “Real estate was being sold like used cars,” said Crowell. At a time when salespeople worked strictly on commission, Smith put his team on salary, which set them apart and kept aggressive pitching in check. “It was a heck of a different approach to selling property that nobody absolutely really needed,” said Crowell.

The team had sales objectives, though, and Monday breakfast meetings were important for the entire staff, not just salespeople. Smith reluctantly agreed they’d commence at 7 a.m. instead of 6:30 a.m. “He wound up every meeting with something I always thought was brilliant: ‘Nobody makes anything until somebody sells something,’” said Crowell. “Everyone loses track of that.”

Tough Times

Black Butte Ranch was the most fun because “success is always fun,” said Smith, but there were tough times, too. In 1982, while he was president of Brooks Resources, he led the company to invest heavily in Kennewick, Washington, piggybacking on the construction of a planned nuclear power plant. The gamble was ill-timed. The Washington Public Power Supply System was about to default on $2.25 billion in construction bonds for the project. It remains one of the one of the biggest municipal bond failures in U.S. history. WPPPS (dubbed WHOOPS by the national press) halted construction of several Pacific Northwest nuclear power plants, including one near Kennewick on the Hanford Nuclear Reservation. Speculators such as Brooks that bet on the accompanying boom had no recourse when the bottom dropped out of the local economy. Smith’s research on Kennewick had included several contingencies, but not an outright collapse. “I didn’t count on them hitting the pause button and there being no jobs,” he said.

The fallout was swift. Smith left Brooks Resources and began William Smith Properties with the ranchland that Brooks Resources didn’t want. It was precarious, and he admits now that he was afraid, but he had a plan: work even harder. “Instead of getting up at 4:30, I’d get up at 3:30.”

Hollern said, “He owed us a lot of money. We financed it, and he paid it off and we’ve maintained our friendship.” It took about six years for the market in Kennewick to turn around and Smith’s son, Matt Smith, now manages that region for William Smith Properties.

For all of Smith’s sheer love of dealmaking, positioning Bend for success in a new economy was central to the goal, and it aligned with his business philosophy: “If you’re doing good deals, you’ve got to have both sides win.” For him, that means a Bend where future generations can continue what he started. He still works every day, but when he isn’t at his desk with the resident cat, “Teeny,” he’s seen around the Old Mill’s wildflower beds with a couple of his five grandchildren, pulling weeds.

A Renaissance, Complete with a “Benign Dictator”

Trish, whose triple major included Renaissance history at Gonzaga University in Spokane, Washington and a year abroad in Florence, said, “I have a theory about Bend in the ’70s. It was a convergence of people who had a vision, like in Tuscany at the time of the Renaissance, and what they did lasted.” She cited Fred Boyle, a Harvard graduate who sought to model Central Oregon Community College after his alma mater; Mike Hollern, who came West to run Brooks-Scanlon even though the timber industry was dying; Sister Catherine Hellmann, a driving force behind St. Charles Hospital that spawned a regional medical complex; Rod Ray, who pioneered the area’s biotech sector with Bend Research; and John Gray, who created Sunriver, the area’s first destination resort, when “people didn’t know quite what it was,” she said. “All of the institutions in Bend we’re most proud of, the backbone, had those influences in the ’70s.” It created a foundation for today’s entrepreneurial tech and startup community, she said. “In some ways, it’s another Renaissance.”

A true renaissance also goes beyond brilliant, fresh ideas to compassion, and Trish has made that her life’s work. Since serving on Oregon Public Broadcasting’s board twenty-two years ago, she has become a primary source for philanthropic work east of the Cascades. She’s served on the board of many nonprofits, including: Oregon Health and Science University, Oregon Medical Board, Central Oregon Community College Foundation, Oregon Watershed Enhancement Board (which distributes a portion of state lottery funds for salmon recovery, watershed improvement and state parks), St. Francis of Assisi Church and its school foundation and the Oregon Community Foundation.

Evoking the Renaissance, Smith refers to himself as the “benign dictator” of the Old Mill District, only half-jokingly. Clad in his unofficial uniform of blazer, Oxford shirt, striped tie and khakis, he removes posters and flyers which violate the Old Mill’s strict CCRs. He picks up litter, compulsively. His family recalls taking walks at Black Butte Ranch during its early days. They’d always have a Safeway bag with them for collecting litter. It’s a small act, but indicative of what has permeated all aspects of his business: a commitment to excellence. From his insistence on landscaping with flowers (another influence of his German grandmother and mother) to paying tribute to Bend’s history with pithy epitaphs on plaques throughout, to sending memorial gifts to the families of anyone who ever worked at the mill, Smith’s vision has always encompassed the micro and the macro. Trish summed up his credo: “‘Pay attention to the details,’ he would say, ‘It’s what always makes something good.’”

Giving Back

Among Trish Smith’s many charitable activities, she has been deeply involved with the Oregon Community Foundation, where she sits on six committees.

The foundation holds a $1.8 billion endowment, composed of about 2,000 charitable funds created by Oregon individuals and families, including the Smiths. It is among the top ten wealthiest and most generous statewide community foundations in America. OCF awards more than $100 million in grants and scholarships to Oregon nonprofits, and local recipients have included the Tower Theatre, High Desert Museum, Boys and Girls Clubs of Bend, Bethlehem Inn, KIDS Center and the La Pine Community Center.

“It’s ‘Oregon for good,’” Trish said. “We’ve touched every community.” OCF’s work ranges from the absolute essentials to the arts. She details how OCF made possible a symphony that took eighteen months to write and was performed on the rim of Crater Lake. In the next breath, the former schoolteacher rattles off statistics about the broader societal impacts of meeting the needs of children between birth and age three, that Oregon children’s dental health ranks near the bottom nationally, and that third-grade literacy is linked to school drop-out and juvenile justice rates. “We can move that needle,” she said. “Imbalance of opportunity directs your life one way or another, and if we can address it at an early age and solve problems, we can close prisons and open universities.”

Cheryl Puddy, an OCF program officer, said Trish Smith’s deep knowledge of Central and Eastern Oregon goes from the grassroots up to all stakeholders, on issues from schools to salmon to ranchers, and that’s just the beginning of what makes her an invaluable philanthropist. “‘Time, talent, and treasure,’ we always say—and Trish has all of those,” said Puddy. “I don’t know where she comes up with the time she devotes to all kinds of causes.”

It was only a matter of time before a region obsessed with beer would find a way to integrate the nectar into its health regimen, too. Enter: Hop in the Spa.

Deschutes Brewery’s Red Chair makes a great breakfast beer.

I discovered that on a recent early morning in Sisters, soaking in a warm tub filled with a potpourri of hops, lemon slices and minerals while drinking a tall pour of the Northwest pale ale. Despite the less-than-conventional hour to imbibe, I wanted the full experience of Hop in the Spa, even if that meant sipping beer before coffee.

Located in a renovated house on the edge of downtown Sisters, Hop in the Spa received a parade of media attention for being “America’s first beer spa” when it opened in February 2016. While beer, exclusively from Deschutes Brewery, is ubiquitous in the spa, one of the biggest misconceptions of Hop in the Spa is that spa-goers soak in beer. That’s not the case. Instead, hop oil, extracted from hops grown in the Willamette Valley, is integrated into spa treatments such as full body soaks, massages, and soon-to-come facials and foot soaks.

Two years ago, owner Mike Boyle was in a car accident that almost took his life. Post-accident, Boyle sought pain relief and met Sally Champa, who practices Ayurvedic massage therapy. Boyle called the practice “miraculous” and key to his recovery. On a subsequent trip to Europe, he heard about beer spas and the wheels starting turning.

Returning to Central Oregon, where he’s lived for the last thirty years, he and Champa decided to go into business together. They first made hop-infused bath products, and then integrated Champa’s naturopathic knowledge and massage therapy practice to create Hop in the Spa.

Extracted from the same plant that provides the bitterness and flowery aroma to beer, hop oil is anti-inflammatory and antimicrobial. It’s been used as a sleep aid, a pain reducer and a natural remedy for dermatitis.

The signature soak at Hop in the Spa is a blend of hops, hop oil and other natural ingredients that are steeped in hot water just before you soak. The hops’ calming qualities are released in the hot water. That, plus the refreshing beer and the dark room, made for an instantly relaxing experience.

While touring the building recently, Boyle shared his plans to grow Hop in the Spa. “We’re onto something here,” said Boyle. They have big ideas for the business—some seem a little off the wall. Then again, so did a beer spa.

Oil Essence at Home

“Beer spa” may have an oxymoronic ring to it, but the ingredients that make up beer, especially hops, have several health benefits. Sally Champa, who partnered with Mike Boyle to create Hop in the Spa, integrates hop oil into the Ayurvedic massage therapy.

“Oils of the hops create a nice moisturizer for the skin,” she said. “It helps with any kind of muscular inflammation. It’s also great for eczema and psoriasis. Because it absorbs into the skin, it’s actually great for the nervous system as well.”

To get similar benefits at home, Champa recommends massaging your body with hop oil before you shower. The shower then helps pores open so the oil can absorb into the skin.