What makes our lightning-struck wood unique? Not just nature’s power—but the grueling, unpredictable hunt to find it.
We skip warehouses. Our team heads to remote mountain forests: GPS fades, trails vanish, silence hangs thick. This isn’t a casual hike—we carry 40-pound gear (water, first-aid, weather trackers), wake at dawn to avoid storms, trudge miles over rocky terrain that tears boots.
Lightning never strikes twice, no map left. We scan for clues: charred bark with faint ozone, twisted branches, trunks marked by electricity. But even with experience, most trips end empty—wood decays, hides behind pines, or washes away.
When we find viable wood? Awe-inspiring. We harvest safely (no live trees, no ecosystem harm) and carry it out by hand—sometimes hauling 50-pound logs down steep slopes, step by step. Every scratch, sore muscle, sunrise spent searching? Worth it for nature’s irreplaceable magic—no mass production, no duplicates.