Sharing stories and adventures about all things coffee, stories, and stoke
I’m all about simplicity. That comes out in a lot of ways in the worlds of mountain biking, the way I drink coffee, and even how I run Loam Coffee. For a 10 year stretch the only mountain bike I had was a single speed. I didn’t have to fret over broken derailleurs or erratic shifting. I drink my coffee straight black. This simplicity is at the forefront in Loam Coffee from our logo, bags, branding, and more. I love simple. Clean.
We all have our origin stories. Each business has one too. I do know this: if it wasn’t for the countless hours spent out on the trail in the Sonoran Desert there would be no Loam Coffee.
Coffee is a lot of fun. It's more than "hot bean juice" too. We drink coffee because we love it ... the tasting notes, how it feels when we take a sip, and of course the other benefits like caffeine. But it's more like a lifestyle accessory. However, that doesn't mean it should be inaccessible without insider knowledge.
So what is one affordable essential needed for the next time you go camping or want to brew coffee at the trailhead?
One of the exciting things about mountain biking is you never know what you’ll find or see out on the trail. From lost car keys to bike parts to spotting deer or a bear from afar we can never anticipate the unanticipated. I’ve spied on bald eagles perched directly above me and have peered down from a low cliff to watch a 6 foot long white sturgeon lazily swim at the surface. I feel as though I’m always prepared for the unprepared … or at least assume I could anticipate confronting a mountain lion on the trail (which I couldn’t) or troublemakers shooting guns too close to the trail (which I hope I don’t). But a few weeks ago I came across something … someone … I wasn’t anticipating.
A rogue trail builder.
Unless you live in a place where your town or city is the trailhead then it usually means loading up your bike and driving somewhere to ride. Even then, for those of you with access to world-class trails right outside your front door sooner or later they can become a little stale and you hunger and thirst for new trails elsewhere.
Currently I’m sitting in front of my computer (obviously). But what is significant about that statement is it comes on the heels of cleaning up, showering, and putting away my gear after a mountain bike ride in the rain. You know how it goes. Seemingly more time is spent cleaning, de-layering, and putting stuff away after the ride than actual time out on the trail. That’s part of life for many months of the year here in the Pacific Northwest.
Was it a good trip? Would I classify it as a good ride? What then is a good trip or ride? Are those even fair questions?
