What They Couldn’t Take

Five Years in Guffey

When Mike and I came to Guffey five years ago, we weren’t dreaming of owning a bar and restaurant.

Our dream was liquor.

For years on the Western Slope, making things was simply part of our life together. We made beer and wine. We experimented with moonshine. We hiked, picked berries, wild-foraged, raised our family, worked full-time jobs, and came home to projects that interested us. It was something we loved doing together.

Then our kids grew up.

Covid happened.

Our employers basically told us, “Get a satellite phone and go wherever you want.”

So we did.

We found Guffey, thought it was one of the coolest little places we had ever seen, and bought what we believed would simply be our next home.

That home eventually became Colorado Mountain Distillers.

And that is where the education really began.

We learned how to run a business. We learned how to hire people. We learned about restaurants, bars, payroll, regulations, customers, community, friendships, loyalty—and sometimes the complete absence of it.

Most of all, we learned a tremendous amount about people.

Over the years, we have had people lie to us, steal from us, take advantage of opportunities we gave them, and then somehow turn themselves into the victim when they were caught.

That part has been difficult for me to understand.

Mike and I were raised differently.

Integrity matters deeply to us. We don’t steal. We don’t cheat. We don’t knowingly lie to people. We raised our children with those same expectations.

That doesn’t mean we are perfect. Far from it.

But when we screw something up, we believe you own it.

You say, “I messed up. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

And then you try to make it right.

What has surprised me most during these five years is how difficult that seems to be for some people.

Sometimes, rather than admitting what happened, people invent an entirely different story. They gossip. They rewrite history. They create some horrible version of you because apparently that feels easier than saying, “I did something wrong.”

That has probably been one of the hardest lessons of owning this business.

Because the truth is, Mike and I have probably forgiven things we shouldn’t have forgiven.

We have given second chances, third chances and sometimes tenth chances.

There have been moments when we probably should have had law enforcement on speed dial.

Instead, we kept hoping people would do better.

And perhaps that is something these five years have changed in us.

We are still forgiving people.

We are still generous people.

We still believe most people deserve some grace.

But forgiveness doesn’t require allowing someone to repeatedly take advantage of you.

Grace does not require stupidity.

And integrity does not mean remaining silent forever while someone else behaves without it.

I have also learned something about myself.

I have to write things down.

When something hurts me, angers me or confuses me, I need to get it out of my head and onto paper. That is part of how I process things. It is part of how I let them go.

And after five years in Guffey, there is certainly plenty to write about.

But despite everything—the people who disappointed us, the mistakes we made, the money we lost, the lessons we learned—I would never want those experiences to become the definition of our time here.

Because they aren’t.

Colorado Mountain Distillers is still standing.

Mike and I are still standing.

Our marriage is strong. Our family is strong. We still laugh. We still dream. We still make things. We still believe in treating people fairly. And somehow, after everything we have seen, we still believe there are far more good people in this world than bad ones.

Maybe that is the real lesson of these five years.

People can disappoint you without changing who you are.

They can lie about you without changing the truth.

They can steal from you without taking your integrity.

And they can take advantage of your kindness without convincing you that kindness was a mistake.

We may be a little wiser now.

We are certainly less naïve.

And these days, our tolerance for bullshit is considerably lower.

But the things that mattered to us when we arrived in Guffey still matter.

Family.

Honesty.

Hard work.

Integrity.

Creating something with our own hands.

And building a life together that belongs entirely to us.

Five years later… that’s still what we are doing.