PORTLAND, Ore. — The unthinkable has arrived: Next Adventure’s exit has ripped a canyon through the city’s outdoor identity. For nearly three decades, the beloved retailer made it possible for everyone from weekend hikers to professional mountaineers to outfit themselves without mortgaging the house. Now, with founders Deek Heykamp and Bryan Knudsen announcing every door will lock by autumn, the community faces far more than another vacant storefront. They face a profound test of civic character, economic resilience, and generational memory. “We thought we’d spend our retirement paddling the Columbia, not bailing water from a sinking fleet of dreams,” Heykamp admitted in a somber news conference that drew tear-streaked climbers and stunned city officials alike.
The Collapse That No One Dared Imagine
In the span of a single press release, Portland went from boasting a bustling gear corridor to staring into the abyss of a retail void. Analysts at the Portland Chamber of Commerce estimate that Next Adventure’s four locations—Grand Avenue headquarters, Sandy outpost, and two paddle centers—pumped nearly $38 million into adjacent cafés, repair shops, and guide services last year alone. “Think of it as a tent pole yanked from the region’s economic canopy,” warned retail strategist Lana Mirel at a hastily convened roundtable.
“If Next Adventure folds, the ripple could swamp dozens of micro-businesses that relied on its gravity,” Mirel said.
A 2024 study by Metro Council showed that every dollar spent in adventure retail typically recirculated $1.47 into the local economy. Without that loop, nearby merchants brace for a 19 percent revenue cliff. Meanwhile, a lightning-bolt liquidation sale—launching May 28—threatens to lure cash-strapped residents into a frenzy that could leave other small outfitters cash-starved for months. Axios confirmed the sale will run all summer, magnifying market whiplash.
Community Identity on the Brink
Portlanders don’t just buy gear; they forge a shared narrative of scrapes, summit photos, and soggy trail epics. Next Adventure’s famous Bargain Basement, stacked with garage-sale skis and once-trusted backpacks, doubled as an unofficial confessional where strangers swapped beta and fears. Sociologist Dr. Petra Valdez likens the closure to losing a public square.
“When a node this central disappears, the social fabric frays—first invisibly, then all at once,” Valdez told Top Coverage News.
The anxiety shows: online forums buzz with panicked posts, climbing gyms pin flyers begging patrons to “Shop Anywhere Local.” Even Mayor Zahra Moon, usually stoic, declared a “Week of Outdoor Reflection” to rally civic pride. According to KPTV, City Hall is exploring short-term tax relief for independent gear shops. Still, many fear goodwill alone cannot replace the deep discounts and encyclopedic staff knowledge that made Next Adventure irreplaceable. “It was our REI without the corporate vibe,” lamented customer Nova Pearson, clutching a dog-eared map sold to her in 1999.
What Happens After the Last Kayak Sells?
The aftershocks loom larger than the liquidation. Tourism officials predict a potential dip in adventure travel bookings as visiting climbers, paddlers, and thru-hikers no longer see Portland as a one-stop gear depot. Startup outfitters eye the vacancy, yet face high rents and supply-chain chaos. Meanwhile, Heykamp and Knudsen insist they sought local buyers for a year with no takers.
“We didn’t walk away—we waited for a hero. None came,” Knudsen stated, voice cracking.
City Council is debating an emergency “Retail Legacy Ordinance” that would classify cornerstone businesses like Next Adventure as cultural infrastructure, unlocking low-interest loans and mentorship grants. Critics call it a bandage on a hemorrhage. Supporters argue failure to act guarantees a hollowed-out downtown. Ultimately, the question echoes through every trailhead: Who will anchor the next generation’s adventures? Answering that could define whether Portland remains a launchpad for wild dreams—or a cautionary tale of complacency.
