Adventure can look like a stadium roaring as a horned bull charges, or like a quiet, unfurnished apartment in Juarez where a man and his dog sleep on the floor and ship bags at night. Dave Munson’s road to Saddleback Leather wove danger, faith, and an obsession with quality into a single throughline: choose craft over comfort. The spark was a bag he couldn’t find in stores, so he drew it, had it made, and wore it everywhere, often empty—just Doritos and limes inside—because the love of the thing mattered. Strangers asked where to get one. Curiosity turned into a calling, and soon the $100 apartment, bus-station pickups, and late-night eBay listings formed a scrappy, purposeful engine. The broader lesson is simple but rare: let the product earn its story by living a real one.
Photos Courtesy of Dave Munson
Risk wasn’t just market risk. Dave’s path included a bullfight, a Federale encounter that could have ended tragically, and years of personal delay on marriage and comfort to build something worthy. He frames cost through materials and ethics: if his cost of goods exceeds another brand’s retail price, the question flips—why is theirs so cheap? That edge comes from refusing shortcuts and insisting on durability you can feel. The brand voice is equal parts grit and grace—bags meant to last a century, a slogan built on legacy, and a willingness to explain what quality demands. It’s an argument for stewardship in a disposable age: buy fewer, buy better, and know the maker’s sacrifices are stitched into every seam.
Faith runs through his choices like a backbone, not a banner. Dave asks boldly—sometimes for the “coolest ever”—from an old Land Cruiser rack to a headquarters made of compressed leather bales, and he treats prayer as both dialogue and direction. That posture informs the business: people over profit, craft over scale, and a willingness to put resources into education and community. The factory in Mexico is paired with a homeschool program for employees’ children and an English-language institute that keeps opportunity affordable. In Rwanda and Uganda, the family sponsors students, returns often, and brings others to witness change firsthand. Generosity becomes strategy; impact becomes part of the product’s provenance.
Travel turned into marketing with meaning. The original bag shows up in airports, deserts, shark dives, and croc tug-of-war videos because story travels farther than ads. Customers started sending their own photos from Tunisia to Australia, and the bag became a passport stamped with shared pride. Dave’s family piled on stamps early, not to collect countries but to collect perspective. A practical hack even emerges: long-haul tickets often allow free stopovers, so the journey can include Morocco on a Rwanda route without extra cost. The subtext is empowering—adventure isn’t gated by elite budgets, only by willingness to hop off the planned path and learn.
Leadership lessons land at home first. A lunch with Zig Ziglar distilled success into three actions: court your spouse, encourage everyone, and help others succeed. Dave admits he once led with pride but is learning to serve—picking up the trash before being asked, rubbing tired feet, modeling humility for his daughter’s future choosing. In the company, trust is paired with accountability; the proverb “trust your friends, tie up your horse” guards against quiet drift. The culture aims to make quality the habit and service the reflex. That approach builds teams that last, much like the goods they craft. 
Finally, Dave reframes adventure. He bans the word from branding to avoid cosplay swagger and instead lives it as a lifestyle of unknowns. You don’t need Everest; you need a first step. Drive from Zagreb into Bosnia with unreadable signs and let Google Translate fill the gaps. Learn a few lines of French before Gabon if leatherback turtles call you. Point at a map, throw a dart, and trust you’ll figure it out on arrival. That same mindset fuels a company that ships timeless leather and a family that keeps finding new roads. Craft is the constant. Courage is the practice. The rest is just where the story goes next.
