About US

First Brewery in Fraser, CO

It was the year 2018, and in the mist-shrouded highlands of the Fraser Valley, there existed a tiny hamlet called Fraser. The villagers were a peculiar bunch—part lumberjacks, part poets, and wholly devoted to their love of beer. They’d gather at the local tavern, the Crooked Creek, to swap tales of mythical brews and argue about the perfect hop-to-malt ratio.

One fateful night, during a particularly spirited debate about whether a unicorn’s tears could be used as a bittering agent, a mysterious stranger stumbled into the Crooked Creek. His name was Nick “Barleybeard McHopface” Crabb, and he wore a cloak made entirely of barley stalks. His eyes twinkled like freshly carbonated bubbles, and his beard—oh, that magnificent beard—was a frothy cascade of foam.

“Good evening, fellow imbibers!” Barleybeard boomed, raising a tankard. “I’ve traveled far and wide, seeking the perfect spot to brew my legendary elixir—the Jib’n Juice.”

The villagers exchanged puzzled glances. “Jib’n Juice?” whispered Old Gertie, the village herbalist. “Sounds like something you’d find at the bottom of a swamp.”

But Barleybeard was undeterred. He pointed to a craggy peak that loomed above Fraser. “There, atop Byers Peak, lies the enchanted spring—the source of the purest, most magical water. And it’s the key to unlocking the secret recipe for Jib’n Juice!”

The villagers scoffed. “Byers Peak? That’s where the goats go to practice their yodeling,” said Lars the blacksmith.

But Barleybeard was adamant. He gathered the villagers—lumberjacks, poets, and all—into a rickety cart pulled by a tipsy mule named Suds. Up they climbed, through mist and mirth, until they reached the summit. There, they found the spring—a bubbling font of liquid gold.

Barleybeard dipped his tankard into the water, muttering incantations. “Hops of wonder, malt divine, yeast of dreams—combine!” he chanted.

And lo, the Jib’n Juice was born—a beer so effervescent that it made angels hiccup. The villagers rejoiced, dancing a jig around the spring. They built a ramshackle brewery right there on the mountaintop, using salvaged barrels and goat-horn trumpets as fermenters.

Word spread, and soon beer enthusiasts from distant lands flocked to Fraser. They sipped Jib’n Juice, sang tipsy ballads, and marveled at the view. Barleybeard became a legend, his beard now braided with hops and adorned with tiny beer steins.

As for the goats, they indeed yodeled—especially after a few pints. Their harmonious bleats echoed through the valleys, and the villagers swore it was the sound of Jib’n Juice’s approval.

And so, in the years to come it was growing tiresome to continue to climb that darn peak every day, so they moved the brewery to Hwy 40 to make it much more convenient to sing more tipsy ballads and continue to jig to their delight.

And thus, Camber Brewing Company was born—a quirky, magical haven where beer flows like laughter, and the spirit of Barleybeard lingered in every frothy gulp. To this day, if you listen closely, you might hear the wind whispering, “Barleybeard” as it carries the scent of malt and adventure across the mountaintops.