You’ve probably held a Black Diamond carabiner. Maybe you’ve trusted your life to one of their harnesses while dangling a thousand feet off the deck, or clicked into their bindings before dropping into a backcountry bowl. But the gear is only half the story. The other half is Peter Metcalf, a guy who didn't just start a company; he essentially staged a corporate rescue mission and then spent the next three decades picking fights with politicians to save the very ground we play on.
Honestly, the outdoor industry likes to talk about "authenticity" a lot. It’s a buzzword. But with Peter Metcalf Black Diamond became something different. It wasn't a lifestyle brand born in a marketing suite. It was a bunch of dirtbags who took over a bankrupt equipment line and moved it to the mountains so they could climb before work.
From the Ashes of Chouinard Equipment
Most people don't realize that Black Diamond shouldn't exist. In the late 1980s, Yvon Chouinard—the legendary founder of Patagonia—was in a dark place with his original business, Chouinard Equipment. The company was getting hammered by "failure to warn" product liability lawsuits. Even though the gear was solid, the legal climate was toxic. Chouinard Equipment filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy in 1989.
This is where Peter Metcalf comes in. He wasn't some corporate shark. He was an elite alpinist who had spent years working for Chouinard. He saw a legacy worth saving. Metcalf led a management buyout, gathered a group of employees, and essentially bet everything they had—including their own retirement savings—to buy the assets.
They renamed it Black Diamond.
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They didn't stay in California, either. In 1991, Metcalf moved the whole operation to Salt Lake City, Utah. Why? Because you can see the Wasatch Range from the office windows. He wanted a place where the designers were the users. He wanted the guy engineering a new ice tool to be able to test it on real ice at 7:00 AM and be back at his desk by 10:00 AM.
Why Peter Metcalf Black Diamond and Utah Had a Messy Breakup
If you follow outdoor news, you know Metcalf isn't exactly shy. For years, he was the industry’s loudest voice for public lands. He helped bring the massive Outdoor Retailer (OR) show to Salt Lake City, turning the state into a global hub for the $800 billion outdoor economy.
But things got weird.
Metcalf started clashing with Utah’s political leadership over their stance on federal land ownership and the protection of national monuments like Bears Ears. He didn't just send a polite letter. He wrote scathing op-eds. He called the state’s policies "an absolute attack on our public lands."
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By 2017, he was calling for the OR show to leave Utah entirely.
It was a "sucker punch" to the local economy, but for Metcalf, it was about principle. He argued that you can't profit from the outdoors while simultaneously voting to dismantle the protections that keep them wild. Eventually, the show did leave (though it later returned in a much-diminished state), and the rift between the "climbing bum turned CEO" and the Utah legislature became legendary.
The Leadership Philosophy: Crisis as "Opportunity in Drag"
Metcalf has this great line about how every crisis is just "opportunity in drag." It sounds like something from a cheesy business book, but he actually lived it.
- The 1989 Buyout: Taking over a bankrupt company during a litigation crisis.
- The 2010 Public Offering: Navigating the transition from a private, employee-owned shop to a publicly traded entity ($BDE).
- The Global Expansion: Buying brands like PIEPS and Gregory to build a conglomerate.
He stepped down as CEO in 2015, but his fingerprints are all over the way the company still operates. He pushed for "clean climbing" and innovation that wasn't just about making things lighter, but making them safer. He was obsessed with the technical details because, in his world, a product failure wasn't a bad review on Amazon—it was a catastrophe on a mountain.
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Is Black Diamond Still the Same?
Since Metcalf’s departure from day-to-day operations, the company has seen its share of ups and downs. There have been recalls—which happens to every hard-goods manufacturer—and shifts in corporate ownership. Some old-school climbers grumble that the brand has become too corporate or too focused on apparel.
But the core ethos Metcalf instilled is hard to kill.
The company still employs people who actually climb and ski. They still advocate for access. And Metcalf himself? He’s still out there. Even in his late 60s and beyond, he’s been a fixture on the boards of the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco and various conservation alliances. He’s the guy who proved you could be a "business person" without losing your soul to the bottom line.
What You Can Learn From the Metcalf Era
If you’re looking to apply the Peter Metcalf / Black Diamond model to your own life or business, here’s the reality:
- Stake Your Claim: Metcalf moved the company to Utah to be close to the "product." Don't work in a vacuum; live in the environment where your work matters.
- Values Over Convenience: He was willing to tank a relationship with a state government to protect public lands. Decide what your "non-negotiables" are before the money starts rolling in.
- Trust Your Tribe: The initial BD buyout worked because the employees were invested—literally. Build a team that believes in the mission enough to put their own skin in the game.
- Embrace the Risk: Climbing Mount Hunter or starting a company from a bankruptcy filing both require the same thing: the ability to manage fear and keep moving upward.
Actionable Next Step: If you want to see the modern iteration of this legacy, check out the latest Black Diamond sustainability report. It shows how they've transitioned from just "making gear" to trying to minimize the carbon footprint of the manufacturing process itself—a direct evolution of Metcalf's early conservation work.