Once upon a time, not so long ago, two somewhat twinny-looking chaps with beards opened a brewpub in a former QQ Asian Restaurant in the sleepy Phoenix suburb of Gilbert, Arizona. Within eight months, RateBeer awarded them Brewery of the Year, they were interviewed by Esquire Magazine, and they started collaborating with pretty much every craft beer superstar brewer around the world.
You might think you’ve heard this one before—that world domination followed, huge production facilities were built and you can now buy their beers at corner stores across America. But for Jonathan Buford and Patrick Ware, creating Arizona Wilderness was about something entirely different. In the 10-plus years since they shot to fame, they have forged a divergent path from most of their industry contemporaries, upending expectations and building their business around a very specific set of values.
“Our focus is on saving the planet,” says Buford succinctly, as we sit in the sun-dappled beer garden of their downtown Phoenix location, bustling with drinkers and diners on a Tuesday afternoon. At first glance, the space resembles any standard, hip, well-designed brewpub, with picnic benches and kite-shaped sunshades outside, high-top tables inside, and smiling servers bringing out plates of burgers and flights of beer.
But look a little more closely and you’ll notice some unusual details: There’s no single-use plastic on the premises. Servers assiduously divide waste for composting and recycling. The restrooms are stocked with recycled toilet paper, made by a B Corp-certified company. The food menu is driven by locally sourced ingredients. Many of the beers are made with Arizona flora and fauna, such as the exquisite sweet-tart Desert Dweller, a mixed-culture saison made with local honey and mesquite pods, or the tangy Strawberry Catnip crafted with regenerative red fife wheat and Arizona strawberries and catnip.
Probe further, and you’ll discover that all Arizona Wilderness beers are made with locally sourced Sinagua Malt,a public benefit corporation whose initiatives have reduced its use of water from the nearby Verde River by millions of gallons a year. You will also learn that the ground you’re stepping on is, in fact, a permeable water-capture surface that holds rainwater on a bed of decomposed granite. Looking to buy merch? Arizona Wilderness T-shirts are made from recycled water bottles.
But you might not notice any of this, as you’d be too busy immersing yourself in some of the most delectable beer not just in Arizona but in the whole of the United States. The quality and innovation that brought Arizona Wilderness to RateBeer’s attention all those years ago remain paramount, as evidenced by an Arizona Wilderness beer among Craft Beer & Brewing’s Best 20 Beers of 2023
“Our focus is on saving the planet.”
“If you’re gonna care, you’re gonna care—this is how [Ware and Buford’s] company philosophy encompasses everything,” says Johanna Lortsher, Arizona Wilderness’s head of people. It is this principle—of caring—that has driven Ware and Buford to make world-class beer while pursuing steady, sustainable growth and establishing their identity as land stewards and champions of local agriculture.
The Arizona Wilderness origin story, so thoroughly documented by Esquire back in 2014, is the kind of all-in, guts-and-glory tale that craft beer mythology is built on—but with a deeply passionate beating heart. Ware, the self-confessed dreamer, was inspired to take up homebrewing after watching Dogfish Head’s Sam Calagione on the TV show “Brew Masters.”
“Sam Calagione opened the door to having personality and a business,” says Buford, who was looking for a way to translate his hiker’s passion for Arizona terroir into a professional venture. “Arizona has the third most wilderness in the country—it’s amazing to think of, so I wanted to start a brewery focusing on our wilderness.” Buford began homebrewing and seeking out advice from within Arizona’s fledgling beer community— where he began being mistaken for Ware. Their similar builds and signature beards led to a first meeting in the Chandler, Arizona, cellar of SanTan Brewing, where Ware was working at the time. “Jon came down to the cellar, shone a torch in my face and said, ‘Are you the other me?’” says Ware with a wry smile.
Jonathan Buford, left, and Patrick Ware, right.
After working 80-hour weeks “dungeon brewing” at SanTan, Ware was ready for a change. Instead of overwhelming him with questions like other homebrewers on the hunt for free intel, Buford suggested they go backpacking. “Jon got to my heart as a human. It’s a unique skill he has,” says Ware. “The trip filled me with nostalgia from hiking with my dad in New Mexico and I realized this was what I wanted to go back to.”
Buford’s quality skills as a homebrewer and a trip to Russian River Brewing together sealed the deal. The pair (along with business manager Brett Dettler, who has since been bought out) went all in. Ware quit SanTan and Buford sold his window-washing business to finance the brewery. The two began hiking and foraging for wild yeast and native herbs and berries to capture the taste of the desert.
When the RateBeer news hit, Ware was sleeping on Buford’s sofa. They were still paying back the brewery’s construction costs, functioning with basic brewing equipment and bare-bones staffing. When the calls and customers came flooding in, “We realized it wasn’t nothing—it went a bit nuts,” says Ware. With Esquire calling Buford “Craft brewing’s newest rockstar” and demand for their product becoming huge, it would have been easy for the pair to follow many of their contemporaries and focus on moving as much beer as possible. The choice to stick to their original mission instead took Buford and Ware on a journey that in some ways challenged them as much as opening the brewery itself, but has set an equally important standard of change-making through sustainability.
For Buford, the identity of Arizona Wilderness was paramount from the beginning. “Yes, we are making wonderful beer, but what does ‘Wilderness’ stand for? I was frustrated there were all these local farms producing agricultural goods but they weren’t on any menus, so I wanted to make the connection between our consumers and our farmers and highlight what Arizona agriculture has to offer.” This became the goal — to connect the supply chain and create a broader impact. “Using sustainable ingredients in one beer is great, but we wanted to use them year-round, and this became a selling point for customers,” says Ware.
The brewery lists 50 local partners on its website, purveyors of everything from whiskey to ice cream, cheese to pecans. About 50% of everything they buy is locally sourced, though this rises to close to 90% for their beer. Building these relationships has taken time, commitment, and perseverance, as well as a willingness to experiment, take the occasional loss, and work collaboratively.
These objectives permeate all of Arizona Wilderness’s spaces, from the cozy Woodnotes Cellar — a sepia-toned sour haven where Cellar Manager Nick Pauley works his magic—to the bustling downtown location and chill reclaimed-wood interior of the Gilbert location. Wilderness’s new location, to be opened in 2025, will be a neighborhood-style pub in the Miracle Mile neighborhood, an adaptive-reuse space that formerly housed a commercial florist and a laundromat. Buford and Ware aim to build out with on-site carbon-capture equipment for a closed-loop CO2 system, a permeable gravel parking lot, and a purpose-built brewhouse, which will improve efficiency.
“Yes, we are making wonderful beer, but what does ‘Wilderness’ stand for?”
One of the most significant initiatives that Arizona Wilderness champions is Sinagua Malt. Sinagua (Spanish for ‘without water’) is Arizona’s first malt house, but more significantly, its raison d’être is the preservation of Arizona’s Verde River. It’s a joint initiative from Chip Norton of Verde Conservation and Kim Schoenk of The Nature Conservancy, a genuine labor of love conceptualized and brought into being by two people whose passion for conservation has made tangible strides in local water conservation. The B Corp supports local farms in growing winter crops like barley instead of traditional summer crops like alfalfa and corn, which drained the Verde at the driest, most precarious time of year. Norton and Schoenk created a business from scratch with no prior experience to support that cause.
“We shared Chip and Kim’s curiosity in wanting to know why the river was dry and what we could do about it,” says Buford. As an early adopter, Arizona Wilderness was integral to Sinagua’s initial development. “We knew we had to produce malt we could sell to breweries,” says Schonek. “They helped us evaluate malt and were willing to try it through our learning process.” Arizona Wilderness helped Sinagua brew test batches from its early harvests and provided them with a regular income. Selling almost all their beer in-house meant Arizona Wilderness were able to gauge demand for locally sourced product, with a price increase factored in to ensure the business was still viable. “While we essentially lost money until efficiency and quality went up, it was a worthwhile investment. Working with Sinagua showed how the industry can function as a synonymous organism,” says Buford.
Arizona Wilderness is rightly proud of its commitment to Sinagua. The maltster has grown and expanded and has recently opened a new malting facility, which will increase yearly production from 150 tons to 1,700 tons, giving it the ability to supply at least 25 local breweries. Across Sinagua’s branding are stats on how much water they have saved — approximately 50 gallons per pint—with QR codes on their cans for those who want to know more. This commitment was one of the draws for head brewer Brad Miles, who joined Wilderness in May 2023 from Firestone Walker, where he was head of research and development and innovation. “I wanted to return to having connection with the consumer,” says Miles, who cites Arizona Wilderness’s work with Sinagua and other local sourcing as a major attraction. Miles calls Buford and Ware “very forward-thinking. They are building more than a brewery; they are building a community. They are really embracing the local scene in terms of agriculture and have always been mission-driven.”
Other highlights and successes of Arizona Wilderness’s mission include their work with Rango Honey, which provides job training, support, and fundraising for adults with autism by making raw honey sourced from the Sonoran Desert. Wilderness also works with Indigenous-owned Ramona Farms, whose heirloom tepary beans feature on the menus in both its locations, and is on the search for Arizona-raised beef.
“Using sustainable ingredients in one beer is great, but we wanted to use them year-round, and this became a selling point for customers.”
But Ware and Buford are keen to emphasize two things: the sense of responsibility they feel to their staff, partners, customers, and themselves, and the fact that the journey to this point has not been straightforward. “We didn’t learn to educate our staff ’til we educated ourselves,” says Ware.
When the RateBeer buzz hit in January 2014, Ware and Buford were, they say, in a very different place from the two chill guys I’m hanging out with on their patio. “We’re both super proud of what we achieved—and they were some of the best days of our lives. We had so much energy, but it all caught up and kicked us in the rear,” says Buford, “We definitely took on too much.” Ware notes that it was the culture of the industry at the time. “We felt we had to say yes to every single opportunity, every festival, because it was the norm. But you realize, coming back after each event, you’re not a good leader or in a balanced head space and this is going to enter into your business and personal life.”
Following the rush of attention and demand, there was a period where, while they didn’t lose sight of their goals pertaining to either brewing quality or sustainability, they struggled to balance the pressures of leadership and creativity. As they took on first the taproom adjacent to the Gilbert brewpub and then their downtown location, along with an ambitious wild ale program in the Woodnotes Cellar, the pair found themselves overstretched and at a greater distance from the heart of the business than they wanted to be. “It felt like I was sprinting up a mountain with Pat behind, then I would veer off course and Pat would have to decide whether to follow me or stick to the original route—with a group of people behind him, which was stressful for staff members,” says Buford.
“They are building more than a brewery; they are building a community. They are really embracing the local scene in terms of agriculture and have always been mission-driven.”
Then the COVID-19 pandemic hit, offering an unexpected opportunity to take a step back and reevaluate what they wanted personally and professionally. The realization that they needed to restructure sank in. “We’ve had a 180-degree turn on culture change and spent over two years restructuring the whole company, partly using B Corp framework,” Ware says. “It was something we had to do — we found ourselves in a negative cultural loop and culture eats strategy for breakfast. It is now our primary goal.” Bringing in Lortsher as head of people was a major move to make this change. “Johanna is a very knowledgeable cultural warrior,” says Ware. “Our foresight in hiring an HR specialist on a higher salary has had significant long-run benefits—rates of attrition go down and productivity goes up.”
For Buford and Ware, the syncing of cultural sustainability with their quality and environmental goals has reaped both business and personal benefits. Ware, a self-confessed grinder who regularly pulled all-nighters, is happy to step back from that. “I like being a conduit of inspiration for the brewers now rather than micromanaging the whole process,” he says, “And there is some element of humility involved to know that you might not be the best at every job.”
Buford says the restructuring allowed him to better understand Arizona Wilderness’s culture. “I want to reach out to fans and create a lifestyle brewing brand while letting our people do what they do best.”
Lortsher’s focus is on listening and talking to people, figuring out their priorities and needs, and making sure structures are in place that work for everyone while being open and approachable. “A lot of people think HR is scary. I want to get to know everyone so they know that’s not the case,” she says. Having Lortsher at a senior managerial level may be unusual for a brewery of Arizona Wilderness’s size—3,000 barrels per year—but it feels like the missing piece that connects their values-based ethos to their business. “The AZW story is very complicated, from bees and honey to autism and grain—it can be a lot to take in at once,” she explains.
To many beer nerds, Arizona Wilderness is a bunch of guys who brew incredible beer out of the back of a truck in the desert. But, Buford says, many of their downtown consumers know Wilderness as a quality neighborhood restaurant. “Diversity is the best way to be sustainable and ensure longevity,” he asserts. The evidence is in his favor.
One important way in which Arizona Wilderness has stuck true to its origin story is its annual Camp Coolship expedition. A mobile coolship is parked overnight in a specially chosen remote location, with pre-prepared wort pumped piping hot into a specially prepared truck bed, where it cools in the desert night, becoming imbued with the unique microflora that make up Arizona’s wildest terroir. It’s an experiment in brewing and drinking the desert, capturing its flavor and essence.
The Superstition Mountains are a surprisingly short drive from Gilbert. In less than an hour, you can travel from multiple lanes of metropolitan traffic to the federally designated Superstition Wilderness Area, arid ochre environs whose ancient volcanic peaks and canyons attract hikers, rock climbers, bikers, and gun enthusiasts. Superstition is the chosen destination for 2024’s Arizona Wilderness Camp Coolship.
“Diversity is the best way to be sustainable and ensure longevity.”
Previous locations have included the Mogollon Rim, the Prescott National Forest, Agritopia Farm, and Stoic Cider Orchard—all selected for their proximity to nature and distance from humans en masse. Official campsites are off the table. The trip offers brewery staff and guests the opportunity to experience firsthand the brewery’s namesake wilderness, around which Buford and Ware have built their ethos and whose integrity they are working to preserve. It also enables Pauley to create truly spectacular wild ales, which he ages between 18 months and three years in puncheons or wine barrels and likens to Belgian lambics.
I guard every bottle of Camp Coolship I’ve been fortunate enough to acquire with the ferociousness of a mama grizzly, so taking part in the expedition is almost too much excitement. We head out from the Gilbert brewpub in a “coolship convoy” but are soon separated and find ourselves lost along a rocky dirt road, trailing through rolling tumbleweed and surrounded by Arizona’s signature Saguaro cacti, the rough giant molars of the mountain range rising up in every direction. After we are, happily, rescued by external sales and distribution lead Andrew Villaverde before any keen sharpshooters out for target practice can do us harm, we find ourselves in an isolated clearing. The team is already there, chopping food and building a fire while Pauley hooks up the complex pipe system that pumps the freshly brewed wort into the bed and also sucks it back into its tank about 12 hours later.
Along with Villaverde and Pauley, the group includes Miles, still acclimating to the desert climate from southern California; Woodnotes cellarman Chad Carlton, whose Live Oak Brewing cap makes us immediate friends; and The Bruery’s research and development manager Micah Rush, who has traveled from Orange County, California, petri dish in hand, on a mission to collect wild Arizona yeast to mix with his own.
We gather around the coolship and the magic begins. Pauley releases the valve, allowing piping hot wort to flow bubbling into the truck bed. Phones and cameras snap, rushing to capture the gushing liquid. A thick mist of steam rises from the wort as it hits the freezing desert air. There is something hypnotic about watching boiling liquid effervesce into the bitter atmosphere. I’m reminded of looking into the top of a volcano. With the exception of the odd oohs and ahhs, everyone is respectfully quiet.
Later, as the wort cools and we cozy up around the fire to enjoy spectacular meat pies and gravy cooked up by Gilbert brewpub kitchen manager Seth Marion, we are joined by Buford and Ware. They are both relaxed and at home in the environment in which they first bonded a decade ago, hiking together as they conceptualized Arizona Wilderness. As cans are passed around and we huddle closer to the fire, the sense of camaraderie is strong and authentic.
While I don’t envy those sleeping under the stars on such a blisteringly chilly evening, the passion for making a beer that will truly capture the desert sky leaves me in awe. This is Arizona Wilderness’s focus on the process, the product, the people, and the environment in action, and I can’t wait to try it in 2026.
Words by Ruvani de SilvaPhotos by Jordan Griffith
