About

Seth on a rocky overlook with his mountain bike, the Blue Ridge Mountains of Western North Carolina behind him

Hey — I'm Seth.

I grew up in New York riding BMX — not the racing kind, the street kind. The kind where you session whatever the city gives you: ledges, rails, loading docks, the occasional set of stairs — and get kicked out of half of them. Nobody hands you a track. You find your own spots, build what's missing, and make it work with whatever you've got. That attitude never really left me — and honestly, it's most of the reason Berm Peak exists.

Years later I was a web developer in Fort Lauderdale, filming scrappy little bike fixes on the side under the name Seth's Bike Hacks. Half of it was genuinely useful. The other half was a popsicle stick and a peanut-butter-and-jelly burrito. People seemed to like that I didn't take myself too seriously and never pretended to be a pro.

Eventually the bikes won. I quit the desk job, moved to the mountains of Western North Carolina, and started building dumb little trails in my backyard. They were tiny. They were kind of relatable. And they turned into something I never planned — a full-time obsession, a bigger piece of land, and a place I named Berm Peak.

Portrait of Seth in a Berm Peak jersey and helmet, smiling on the trail

What Berm Peak actually is

Berm Peak is the channel — but it's also a real place. Trails, a workshop, and a steady stream of projects that probably shouldn't have worked: bike restorations, builds, experiments, the occasional terrible idea tested at speed. These days I've got kids, so I'm less interested in chasing the algorithm and more interested in building things that last — for them, and for everyone who rides here.

It comes down to four things: Ride. Learn. Restore. Give. The give part matters most. With the help of this community, we built Berm Park — a free, public bike park in Canton, North Carolina — because the best trails should belong to everybody. Call it the kind of spot I never had as a kid: one nobody can kick you off of.

About the gear

Here's something I'm genuinely proud of: this merch isn't cranked out by some faceless print shop. It's made with Cognative MTB — a family-run shop right down the road from me, in the same Western North Carolina mountains. They started in a garage, they trail-test what they make, and through their 2% For The Trails program they've put over $100,000 back into trail clubs. They treat you — my audience — like riders and neighbors, because that's exactly what we all are.

For a long time, the simplest way to get Berm Peak gear was tucked into the corner of a bigger catalog. This store fixes that — one clear, simple place that's unmistakably ours. A lot of these designs come straight out of the videos: E.T., Tunnel Vision, the Ranger District trail markers. If you know, you know.

Seth riding down a steep rock face on a Berm Peak trail

Thanks for being here

I'm not sponsored to say any of this. I'm an owner — I say what I actually think, and I put my name on gear I'd wear myself. That's the whole deal. Thanks for watching, thanks for riding, and thanks for supporting the work that keeps the trails growing.

Now go ride something.

— Seth