The Power of Pizza: How Miguel's Catalyzed the Growth of the Red River Gorge
The humble beginnings of a small business-turned-iconic climbing destination
By Dario Ventura | July 19, 2021
Tommy Marshall climbing near Emerald City by Mike Wilkinson (@wilkinsonvisual).
The heart and soul of a climbing destination is the community that surrounds it. Oftentimes, non-climbers become integral to the climbing community and the development of an area without even realizing it. This is what happened to Miguel Ventura when he opened his business Miguel’s Pizza in 1984 and became a cornerstone of one of the best climbing destinations in the world. Miguel’s is a gathering place, a place of nourishment, and a testament to what hard work can achieve. Below, Miguel’s son Dario reflects on the growth of his family’s business alongside the evolution of the Red River Gorge climbing scene.
Young Dario with Keith Phelps, Mike Susko, another climber, and his dog, Bear. All photos are from Dario’s family collection.
This isn’t a story about pride; it’s a story about perseverance day-after-day for 37 years to build a business and a place for many people to call a home. My name is Dario Ventura, and I'm going to share with you a glimpse of my family’s story and the beginnings of what would become one of the most popular pizza joints in the country, if you’re talking to the right people.
February 28th, 2020, right before the reality of the COVID-19 pandemic took hold of our world, I was on a trip to track down my family’s roots in Portugal and Ireland. On this day of the trip, we ventured deep into the mountains along the Portugal-Spain border. Our mission was to find my great-grandfather’s homestead. Sure enough, we discovered it in a beautiful valley surrounded by endless miles of almond trees. The four stone walls were all that was left. My father’s family came to the United States in search of a better life. The life they left behind was beautiful but provided little opportunity for them and their future children. After many years of working as janitors in New England, my grandfather and father eventually ended up in Slade, Kentucky in 1984. This is where the story of Miguel’s Pizza took root.
Dario, his sister, and mother in front of Miguel’s.
When you work yourself up from nothing, the people and places along the way build your story. My father, Miguel Ventura, came from a family of bakers and millers in Portugal, so creating good food was in his DNA. His business began when he took over an abandoned storefront once known as the Jottem Down Store in eastern Kentucky in the 1980s and renamed it Miguel’s. The location of this store happened to be in a somewhat failing tourist destination across from the Natural Bridge State Park. On paper, it was not a good time or place for such a venture, and this proved to be true. For many years, Miguel’s was very quiet and lonely, but my father still worked hard and provided for anyone willing to receive. Eastern Kentucky has a deep history of shunning outsiders. Coming from out-of-town with brown skin and non-traditional names, my family stuck out, to say the least. The pack of neon tight-wearing hippies hanging in front of the establishment certainly didn’t help the situation. Logically, you would think there is no way this could work out well. But my father had faith. He simply showed respect to the locals and their ways, letting pride go and working hard. People in the mountains respect hard work and aren’t looking for anyone’s approval. My father understood that, and little by little, he built friendships and opportunities that led us to where we are today.
Dario, his father, and Bear taking a lunch break while building their house.
Climbing seemed like a seed that blew into the parking lot of Miguel’s. The lack of options in the area, coupled with a brightly painted rainbow door, made Miguel’s a no-brainer stop for climbers visiting the Red River Gorge. They related to my dad and enjoyed his carefree welcoming place. Climbers back then seemed to enjoy a simpler—although some may call it “dirtbag”—lifestyle. Sleeping on the ground, eating around a fire, and embracing the challenges posed by nature drew them to this place. Miguel has always been very honest, sometimes crude, and more than anything, simply not ashamed of his personality. The climbers of that generation were looking for something out of the norm, and my dad’s place seemed to hit the mark. Through the late 1980s and into the mid-90s, Miguel’s was a gathering place for a core group of the founding fathers of the Red River Gorge trad scene. Each year that core group might add a few climbers, but the familiar faces never seemed to change. These men who swore like sailors and embraced every indulgence became my peers and my family.
Over time, climbing started to change. This seemed to begin when Porter Jarrad rolled into town. Porter was on a search for adventure and saw the potential for sport climbing in the region. He set up his home base in a run-down farmhouse, later dubbed the Love Shack, that once stood next to Miguel’s. Thus began his journey that ultimately kickstarted the explosion of the RRG. I like to think the trad climbers wrote the intro, and Porter created the first chapter of what we have today. Thanks to Porter’s spark, the place grew a little every year. During this time, Miguel’s saw a glimpse of how a successful business could look. At this point, we were cranking out 30 pizzas on a Saturday night, and climbers were sitting on the floor or on the tailgate of their cars. The parking lot buzzed with an overwhelming stoke to be there, and the stoke only got higher.
Dario and his parents.
Miguel laying down the laws at the outhouse.
Even after many years of working in and around the climbing community, my father and mother remain unchanged. I don’t think people realize how hard it is to run this business for that long, providing for so many people each day. My parents have given everything to it, and now my brother and I are doing the same in hopes that we can continue their legacy.
Dario, his sister, and his parents in front of an old tree in Tight Hallow.
When I decided to take on the family business, my father said to me “you have a good work ethic and motivation, but the pizza business isn’t the only way to get through life.” I considered other directions I could go, but when you can work for something that makes your family happy, the choice is obvious. I was fueled by the opportunity to continue building something important and ensuring its past will never be forgotten. The hardest part for me was realizing the massive workload my parents had all those years as I began taking on more responsibility. I have an incredible amount of appreciation for them and what they achieved despite all the obstacles in their path.
Looking back, this community has supported us so much, which has always been seen and appreciated by my entire family. I believe we have also supported it by being a beacon for growth and a gathering place for so many years. It is a privilege for me to be able to carry on and continue to provide. Miguel always says, “you can’t just be a taker; you also have to be a giver. Nothing in this life is truly free.”
Miguel's has grown into a multifaceted business that is constantly trying to keep up with its growing demand. Old-timers occasionally swing in and gawk in amazement at how things have changed, but we all know that no matter how faded the rainbow door may get, the heart and dedication at the core of this place will always remain.
