Clif you

The American Dream is star of the heartwarming CLIF Bar story, in which founder Gary transcends his lonely existence in a garage, with only a "dog, skis, climbing gear, bicycle and two trumpets" for companionship, to run a $100 million company based on inventive use of oats and pectin. During a run-of-the-mill 175-mile bike ride with his friend, Gary had what he repeatedly hang quotes "an epiphany": he will make his own energy bars. It is unclear whether "the epiphany" was a bad case of saddle rash, the ecstasy of peeing off a tall summit, or a gnarly crash. Nevertheless, a few short years later, Gary is king of the miscellaneous gooey, textury, fancy pants energy food market.

In the last frame above, Gary is pictured with his mom, who came to maturation during the 1930s, according to sartorial clues. Gary's advanced age as a child of the Victorian era has not interfered with his ceaseless hunger for adventure, in the form of 175-mile day bike rides, treks through Nepal, or "roadless cycling tours" through the European Alps - each funded by Gary's crunchy granola empire.

Gary's spires-of-the-world existence is flaunted on each and every CLIF Bar packet. One package may tell the tale of his frugal unicycle tour of South America ("The Unicycle Diaries: why monopolize two wheels when some men have none?"), another of his traveling down the Amazon in a boat made out of old coffee machines and popcorn makers discarded by the feckless American public. Each story is fashioned so that you, the consumer in need of dense high-cal energy sustenance, can attend that Blues Traveler concert or social volleyball tourney without bonking, and with confidence intact. For enhanced results, carry an ice ax with you to the baseball game.Obscured above, I recount one of Gary's tales:

"While ski-touring through the remotest stretch of the San Juan mountains with my friend, Trevor, my skins began to ice up. I flailed epically on an incline, unable to gain a vertical foot without slipping. We decided to set up and take an energy break. I unwrapped a Carrot Cake CLIF Bar, bit into the patented mix of nutrients and chewy stuff, and lo, an "epiphany" visited me - I sprang into action, possibly saving both our lives. I trapped, de-veined and skinned two marmots, and fashioned some eco-friendly skins to affix to my skis. Soon we were schussing down ski slopes the nearby heliskiing companies could only dream of having access to. But you only get here with nature's help. It's the spirit of CLIF."

And another:

"Me and my friend Jock had long talked about trekking the wilds of Nepal, but were concerned about the appalling impact tourism has had on the area. When we arrived, we were taken aback by the beauty of the people there - and I mean all the people in brightly colored Patagonia shell wear. I have long been an advocate of barefoot running, as it allows me to dialogue with the ground as I run on my toes, often responding, "Fuck, Nepal! Take it easy with all those pebbles." It wasn't until we jogged into Everest's base camp and downed a mint choc-chip CLIF Bar that we realized an "epiphany": feet are smaller than shoes. So we began training, and returned a year later to complete the first barefoot ascent of Everest, leaving a smaller footprint than ever before."