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Bend, OR's Van Henion Brewing has posted strong growth numbers in 2025, with $$ sales up nearly 75% vs last yr, when it reported 3.3K bbls produced to the BA. But those numbers tell only part of the story. The rising costs of raw materials, combined with the costs associated with co's takeover of the former Boneyard production facility, an imperative to pay a living wage and the larger craft slowdown, have the lager-focused company scraping to get by in tuff times, co-found Mark Henion recently told CBN. Just to the north, another lager brewer, WA's Chuckanut Brewery, is also growing, but from surer footing. The "OG" Pac NW brewer closed its Portland taproom last year in order to focus on its canning line, which it introduced earlier this yr, driving an increase back toward pre-pandemic production figures in the 5K bbls/yr range, with plans to expand to 6K in 2026, district manager Spencer Ebel recently told CBN. The co has long emphasized slow growth, opting, as lagerheads are wont to do, to let the quality of its products speak for itself. It doesn't always work - and it's never easy, as this look behind two curtains, with views to disparate dramatic stakes, reveals.Chuckanut's Long Journey to Cans Chuckanut was founded in 2008 by Will and Mari Kemper, craft pioneers who co-founded the Thomas Kemper Brewery in 1984(!). But it took them 15 yrs to start canning their beers, "mainly because Will was never super confident" that it would maintain the quality of co's products, Spencer told us. For lager brewers, precision is everything; the focus is on fewer products, made just right, and for more than a decade Chuckanut didn't want to mess with what worked. Covid didn't have such scruples, and its singularly disruptive influence forced companies in every industry to wrestle with occasionally long-shelved existential questions.At first, Chuckanut shuffled its on-premise lineup, closing its flagship Bellingham, WA ("North Nut") taproom in 2021 with plans to expand its "South Nut" taproom in Skagit County, WA, which continues to operate, and open a "P Nut" beerhall in Portland, OR. Last yr, co shifted gears, shuttering P Nut and buying the canning line, which has now allowed co to increase production to 500 cases per week and expand distribution to California and Colorado, which has led to some pleasant surprises. "When we first started shipping beer in California, someone tagged us, and they were drinking beer in San Diego," Spencer marveled. "I was like wow! That's way down the coast!"Moving Focus to Off Premise Co is canning three year-round skus: its Pilsner, Kolsch and seasonal offerings, tho the pils represents "the lion's share" of sales, with Spencer estimating it's near 70%, in line with its historical share. The focus on distribution has left South Nut as co's only taproom, with draft sales on location ("in the middle of farm country next to a small airport") representing less than 1-1.5% of co's total. But what South Nut lacks in volume, it makes up for in charm, with Spencer likening it to "Cheers" and seeing a similarity between his on-premise clientele and co's mission. "Just like I have a schedule for my staff, I have a schedule for my regulars," he said. "The consistency of our customers really lines up with the consistency of our product." So, too, does the on-premise growth; while small, Spencer said sales at South Nut increase 1-4% a yr without fail, which is good enuf for him. "I don't see us expanding to a new location anytime soon," he said.Like many lager brewers, Chuckanut is allergic to chasing trends, rather than becoming a "jack of all trades, master of none. These styles have been around for hundreds of years. Why wouldn't we want to steer into that? We're the kind of brewery that focuses on doing one thing perfectly.""It's A Strain": Van Henion Plays the Cards It's Dealt Just to the south, Mark's doing the same thing: he's a lager man, trying to make perfect versions of the old-world favorites. But that's where the similarities end. At Van Henion, which spun off from Boneyard after that co was acquired by Deschutes in 2021, the tuff industry trends are taking their toll, along with a host of other issues. The co is growing, but there's far more to it than that.Founded in 2022, the company operates out of Boneyard's former 30K-bbl-sized facility as a much smaller operation. Mark is a veteran of both Boneyard and Deschutes and worked with the latter co to arrange terms of taking over the facility; he said Deschutes had been generous to deal with, but as Van Henion is tracking to produce just over 3K bbls this yr, he's operating at a tenth of the capacity while paying the overhead for full amount. "It's a strain," he said. On top of that, he also bought the equipment at reduced rates, and while breweries are closing left and right and selling their stuff at dirt-cheap prices, his deal with Deschutes, which he describes as a "dual favor," prohibits him from capitalizing on it.This is just one way that a brewery showing strong growth on paper can be having a rough go of it, but there are more."I'm Tired of Making Other People Rich" Van Henion was founded by Mark, his wife Dana and John Van Duzer, who work with a tight-knit team to keep the beer flowing and the lights on. Mark and John worked together at Deschutes in the '90s as brewers, a role he reprised at Boneyard. He always wanted to run his own shop, but it's proven to be a bittersweet experience. "The whole thing was, I could find a job and do something else," he recalled. "But I'm tired of making other people rich." Being in charge, however, is a whole different animal. "I'm administrating, I'm paying bills, doing accounts receivable and accounts payable. Financial stuff makes me sweat."The co distributes thru Point Blank in Portland, Salem, Eugene and Bend (for chain stores); recently signed Odom for Vancouver, WA (10-15 bbls/mo), and self-distributes in Central OR. The close-knit nature of the company and community means there are Deschutes veterans and friends scattered thruout the region that are happy to stock the product without Van Henion having to pay distrib fees in the area. "Without that, we wouldn't be making it," Mark said. "It's hard when you're in someone else's book to get traction without representation."Co has a salesperson, but Mark has also done the work himself. "When we tried to go to a new market, the guy was playing hardball," he recalls. "He asked, 'Why yours instead of somebody else's?' I said 'Crack a beer and try it.'" He made the sale. "I'm proud of what we do. We make the best beer we possibly can.""There's No Going Back" There are bright spots. Taproom business is double what it was last yr and distribution biz is still growing. But then, "we're finally building up some traction and we need to do a can order, or trays or labels, and they're all $15K-$20K purchases," Mark said. "Sure enough, it comes right back around." He believes the biz will be profitable if it can get to 8K bbls/yr, but right now it's a struggle.Like Chuckanut's Spencer, however, Mark believes the tide will turn. "Beer's been around for what, 8,000 years? It's going to come back around, it always has," he said. He has no interest in jumping into the RTD or seltzer business - it's suds or bust. "I'm a beer guy. I pick a style I like and make a beer in that style," he said. "There's no going back."

Not All Growth Is Equal: The Agony And Ecstasy of Selling Lager in the Pacific Northwest, Thru The Eyes of Van Henion and Chuckanut

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