Trip of the Year: Alaskan Escape by Van

Trip of the Year: Alaskan Road Trip

Chip & Alli experience Denali National Park

As a vaccinated and cooped up adventurer, 2021 has been a rebound year on the travel front for yours truly. Since that second shot in my arm in April (and knowing that I couldn’t live with the thought of collateral damage ensued by not doing my part to get it), I’ve experienced the spring slopes of Steamboat Springs, heat of St. George, diverse corners of Seattle, title town of Tampa twice, lakes of Michigan and Wisconsin, mountain lakes and woods of the Uintah Mountains, an east coast swing to see family, friends and work contacts in Boston, Maine and NYC and a sports/work trip to Denver.

It’s been a welcome reprieve but all paling in comparison to the big one, of which I had to detail before the calendar flipped to 2022. With all the international limits on travel with the pandemic still raging, I had to get creative to hit my goal of one new place per year (country, territory or state).

Lucky for my wife Alli and I, we subscribe to a newsletter called Flights From Home, which notifies of the best flash deals on flights from local airports to our home in SLC. You basically get 24, maybe 48 hours, to book before the rates flip. When they posted a $225 Delta roundtrip deal to Fairbanks, Alaska – we hiccuped a little trying to figure out schedules, but ended up booking it in time. Because we hesitated, we got a direct flight going there but had to add a connection on the return with both flights being overnight red-eyes.

We watched them change the timing of the return flights maybe 20 times before departure. We also started hearing more and more about the influx of tourists to U.S. National Parks and Alaska – many parks, restaurants, hotels and vehicle rentals were booked out weeks if not months in advance.

Ultimately, it could have all been a bit more unnerving but we found through social media that our U of M/SLC friends happened to be road-tripping Alaska and overlapping on timing. Not only that, but they had put months of research into their spreadsheet-based itinerary with every distance, budget, restaurant, adventure, campsite/hotel and even shower mapped out (which is important when you’re living that #vanlife). No holds barred – they were going for it. It helped me establish a baseline of stops to research (along with Facebook Groups like the All About Alaska Travel group and some insights from friends and relatives who had been or lived there).

We lucked out and found Roobie via Outdoorsy. At $100/day (plus a mileage fee and mandatory insurance), this 1993 church van was owned by a handy family that was putting in the work to put a big bed in the back and rig it with all the essential supplies like camp chairs, a propane burner and grill, pots, pans, etc. – heck, even the all important can of bear spray. The family ran the business on the side and had multiple rigs and lots of advice had communicated throughout to make sure the supplies were up to standard and my only request was a covering for the windows knowing we were looking at summer sunshine nearly around the clock.

A quick five hour flight later, we touched down in Fairbanks and had to start getting used to dusk at midnight. After an interesting stay in a converted fraternity house turned small hotel, Roobie was dropped off and I got my bearings taking her to make a massive Costco run for snacks, meals and refreshments to take on our way out of town – we had 7 hours on the road ahead of us and off we went.

Interviewing Uncle Tom of Chitina – home of famous legendary Copper River red salmon

The next day, we had a shuttle arranged to get us into Wrangell-St. Elias National Park (as the old railroad turned road was too rough for Roobie). We made it to our pickup area of Chitina (pronounced “Chit-NA”) and poked around the ghost town and quasi-maintained historic buildings before being directed over to Uncle Tom’s Tavern.

We didn’t mess around at Tom’s and drew out some fascinating life stories of locals like Tom, the pilot, gold mine owner, bar owner and fisherman/outdoorsman extraordinaire (who shot the bear above outside his cabin door in the park). We met three local fishing guides who told us how out-of-staters could hire a local and pull up to 30 fish a day out of the river by fishwheel or net (no reels needed here). The legendary Copper River commands more $ per pound for its red salmon swimming upstream at $45/pound! Being right outside the park, there was so much access to the resources around the park – including the grizzlies who tore into one fellow townie’s face. The people were genuine, stories were amazing of how people got there (including one local in George who had killed a man in Oregon at 17 — we didn’t ask for details). So much character and the highlight of Alli’s trip!

Our friends were missing and cell service was spotty across the state but luckily we caught them in the shuttle en route to the park just in-time. Our day in the 2nd largest National Park in the world (#1 in U.S.) was incredible from start to finish. Per owner instructions, we couldn’t take Roobie down the McCarthy Road, a 60 mile rough gravel-surfaced road connecting Chitina to the historic ghost town of McCarthy and took a group shuttle. Along the way, we met a Canadian Lynx, who came out of the bush and strolled right by our van before hopping back into the bush after a bird. What a sight! We also saw a moose calf grazing in a field and got out of the van to watch a very large bull moose cool itself in a pool nearby.

We crossed a rushing river, passed through the restored ghost town of McCarthy and hiked through the expansive restored ruins of the Kennicott copper mining empire, protected as a National Landmark since 1986. Next to the trail was what looked like a ridge of churned up dirt and gravel but in actuality, the Root Glacier of which we hiked down to the base of. Crampon-equipped explorers hiked up the glacier whereas we got to the edge to sample the pure water from the melt. It was an incredibly picturesque and satisfying journey although sad as the photos in the buildings showed how much more expansive the glacier terrain had been that they previously skied on before climate change melted it down to its current state.

On the way back to Chitina, we poked around in McCarthy, met a cowboy that was one of the original couple residents of the town, hopped in the scenic town watering hole to cool down from the heat (of which I was way overdressed for throughout the day). We then got to walk the picturesque bridge that Wrangell-St. Elias National Park is known for, staring down and the river and landscape below.

It took a few hours and a couple extra from summer construction to hit the coast in Valdez and we set up shop at a campsite right on the bay. What a sight it was, surrounded by mountains all around and chock-full of salmon plus the seals and sea lions that love to eat them. Nearby was the fishery, no stranger to bear sightings, where several obese sea lions gorged on all the fish trying to make their way up the man-made channel simulating an up-river spawn quest of which I could catch by hand as they were so plentiful. Nearby was a Glacier Lake with kayakers with ice islands and before heading out on our way, we took a spin through the sleepy downtown of Valdez.

The scenic Denali Highway was the direct way to make our way across the expansive state to our next meet-up point in Denali National Park. This was the 2nd road Roobie was not permitted as it is also unpaved. We opted for the paved AK-1 N and AK-4 W, which proved to be incredibly scenic with jaw-dropping mountain views abound until hitting the outskirts of Anchorage, then took AK-3 up north totaling 10 hours on the day to make it to the park.

Our campsite, booked weeks in advance because of the glut of national park tourist demand, was Savage River, the 1st site in the park. I was able to utilize the river for a quick, refreshing dip (especially nice without showers present). The highlight of the park was the pre-booked park shuttle, where we progressively got closer and closer to the animal action the deeper we got into Denali. We saw numerous Dall sheep, 6 caribou, 6 moose and best-yet, a total of 9 Grizzly Bears! We started spotting their golden coats off in the distance and progressively saw them gorging on berries closer to the shuttle. We arrived at the lookout point as far as the 92 mile road goes and with the luck of having a mildly overcast day, could see the south peak and lower part of the north peak of Mt. McKinley straight on. We saw two beers careening down the mountain, which ended up getting close enough to the overlook and pedestrian area that people had to be ushered back onto the buses by park rangers. What an experience of which I predicted as a “what if” could happen as we arrived!

We were so lucky timing-wise as that next week not only weather-wise, but that next week brought about also the borders opening back up bringing international tourists, there was a landslide that limited traffic to turnaround at mile marker 42 on the road, and a Grizzly attack on a lone hiker near the aforementioned overlook site.

From Denali the “Serengeti of the Arctic”, we headed down to the scenic coast and hit Seward some 8 hours south through Anchorage. We camped right in the town on the bay and river with no shortage of stunning views all around (ever-present theme in Alaska) for $8/day. Seward housed the only Olympic-sized pool in all of Alaska and as I was grilling burgers in the parking lot, a parade for Olympic gold-winning 17 year old hero Lydia Jacoby unfolded before us on the bridge we overlooked of which the state’s top politicians opened for.

The Seward highlight was the Kenai Fjords Peninsula & National Park cruise that we took, of which we took in majestic splitting glaciers, split rock seat-jutting landscapes and the multitudes of sea life enjoying the fair weather. Getting to watch porpoises swimming under the boat, 5 Humpbacks playing in the sound, puffins, sea otters and the like was truly magical.

From Seaward, we day-tripped up to the Alaskan Wildlife Conservation Center to see rescued wildlife of most native species including moose, elk, buffalo (aggressively in heat), wolves, coyotes, and napping/playing Black & Grizzly bears amongst others. We made it out to the picturesque glacier/fishing town of Whittier to poke around although would have loved to see it from the water. We also briefly stopped in Girdwood to checkout Alyeska Ski Resort.

Anchorage proved to probably the most picturesque large city I’ve ever been to, with roads curving around the waterfront. A walk through the 49th State Brewery offered no chance of seating (much like most restaurants booked out and short-staffed). We ate nearby and still got to sample the local beer, salmon and reindeer sausage before crashing in the parking lot of the Native Heritage Center. It was great to walk through the indoor museum with outbuildings, take the tour and hear about the 9 different cultural regions and tribes and clans still holding onto passed down customs to survive.

En route up towards Denali we hit the bohemian town of Talkeetna known for its shopping and McKinley peak overlook views and were not disappointed. We continued all the way up past Denali and past Fairbanks when we started having our first car trouble aside from nearly running out of gas (always fill up when you get the chance in Alaska). Ole Roobie started overheating and not wanting to make it up hills. We pulled aside and called the family contact who was nearby and ready to come if needed but who suggested just putting water in as a coolant substitute, which did the trick for us and we were off on our way down some back roads to get to Chena Hot Springs.

Chena Hot Springs served as our first hotel and shower since night 1 in Fairbanks and was equipped with not only large outdoor hot springs, an indoor pool fed from the springs and a bevvy of activities. I rode a horse with Alli around the area in guided fashion for the first time. We also enjoyed the Ice Museum, which consisted of all kinds of sculpted igloo palaces, knights and the like with a full bar with drinks in ice glasses.

Had we known our flight was going to get derailed and we would be stuck at the airport, it would have been much more of a relaxing relief to stay at Chena, but alas. We made it to the novelty town of North Pole, visited a few reindeer and Santa’s workshop gift shop for some choice items. Our last day was in Fairbanks, we poked around the waterfront a bit but it was a torrential downpour and we found ourselves napping while working on finishing off the ambitious Costco order of beverages and the like unsuccessfully before Delta finally put us on an Alaska Airlines flight (many more of those) to connect in Seattle and head home.

Thousands of miles by van an extra day at the airport, a few dim hours, much daylight and many an adventure later, we were back to reality.

I would easily put Alaska up with any other place when it comes to adventure potential and scenery and its no wonder so many find themselves not leaving!

“Ducks Fly Together:” #MotivationMonday Lessons in Confidence

Believing in who you are is key!

I recently queued up D2: The Mighty Ducks. Regardless of whether you played or liked hockey, my generation beloved the Mighty Ducks movies as kids.  In a tumultuous time like this one, consensus towards the greater good is seemingly impossible.  We can learn a lot by looking back on the once lovable loser Minnesotan kids, who banded together with others of all shapes, colors and sizes from different corners of the U.S. to defeat the bullies of Iceland in the Junior Goodwill Games finals after Coach Bombay centered himself as a leader.  It wouldn’t have happened without believing in the power of instilled confidence.

Personally, I grew up in an achievement-oriented household where I was encouraged to participate (and well) in all kinds of activities.  Some I didn’t like ie. choir and piano.  Others I loved ie. sports – I played four competitively into high school, usually among the top performers on my teams. Hockey would’ve been one had I moved back to Minnesota sooner (my friends were deep into travel hockey by 4th grade).

My folks went to top universities and academics always came 1st – getting into a great school was priority #1 and I had only a decent handful of B’s into high school. I had an outgoing personality and friend groups beyond just the “popular” group.  Despite all the accolades and activity time, I often felt alone and a failure – especially in high school.  If it weren’t for my parents always having my back though, where would I be?

Granted, some of this might be the result of a competitive, achievement-oriented culture. Sure, there were plenty of good teachers who pushed and encouraged.  Coaches on the other hand, not so much.  The dads were more often than not solid, albeit biased towards their kids (as mine was). Winning was common and the times were loose and fun.  It was into high school that the paradigm shifted.  If you didn’t dedicate yourself to the “system” of that specific sport and all the workouts and family politics year-round, then you were missing out regardless of talents demonstrated.  Lesser “system” athletes focused on 1 sport and were anointed “golden boy” status over others successfully competed for their school in multiple competitive sports.

One would think that high school coaches (and teachers) are there because they care about giving back and developing life achievers.  Egregiously, as far as many were concerned, it was all about their ego and attitude coming from doing it the same way for awhile, their image or winning at small fill-in-the-blank hamlet town. “I could care less about what you’ve done or who you are, it’s my way or the highway.” Small-minded small-ball!

I remember going into horrific shooting or hitting slumps.  I would go home, shovel off the snowy driveway and night and shoot until I couldn’t see or get my dad to pitch until he couldn’t throw.  It didn’t matter though as next to ZERO encouragement or support was offered from coaches.  How are you going to succeed when you’ve got it stuck in your head that if you miss ONE shot, you’re back on the bench?

I went to Duke basketball camp two years in a row around national championships and learned from the best and a master motivator in Coach K. Despite Duke being the model for our “system,” I ended up losing out on the last varsity roster spot to the handicapped “system” guy. I walked off after not even logging a play in the game for my last playoff baseball game after starting every career game.  Can you get any more of a slap in the face?

The teenage years are the most volatile and when you’re offered nothing but negativity from those that are supposed to lift you, how can you succeed?

Fast forward to college. I was DONE with high school and the work paid off as I got into every school I applied – except getting waitlisted at the one I thought I was meant for (of which my dad attended).  Gone went the nurturing offered by the home-front and in came freedom and autonomy of quasi-adult life.  College offered the ability for anyone to re-invent oneself.

The times were exciting but the bar was set for failure – proven achievers used to near 4.0’s like myself now found themselves in the “C” range, barely scraping by.  I remember taking a physics class of which I had no business being in having not taken calc and getting something in the neighborhood of an 8 out of 60 on an exam despite serious studying!  My GPA after the 1st semester was near suspension level.  I found out about the verb “South Foresting,” from the parking garage famous for university suicide, the ultimate failure feeling put into action.

I pushed it to the limit, developing association with the “leaders and best” among the “Leaders & Best,” in the Mud Bowl and Greek scene and our acclaimed football program, and lots of time not only on the beer pong table, but in the and classroom and library.  I started to find myself while I kicked it into gear and started competing toe-to-toe in everything on campus and internally started to realize was that I could hold my own (despite the top-notch acumen of the competition).  Confidence brimmed internally and externally and peaked – I was on T.V. on the sidelines, and in the “alpha” social, competitive limelight otherwise.  I had not only survived, but thrived in many senses and graduated with a double major.

Pro

The door into the sports industry is revenue generation and all of a sudden, re-invention had to happen again.  A 99% rejection outcome became the norm and the hurdles were steep in Inside Sales – the “chop shop” of weeding people out. I buckled in, outworked and out-performed my peers after some trying, tough times in a faraway, disaster-ravaged market of which I knew 1 person. I quickly learned what having no culture and a boss departed for punching someone in front of his employees to understanding what a thriving, motivating, positive team-oriented culture felt like.

Fast forward ten years and two grad degrees of which I pushed myself to the limit further, It’s taken many sacrifices, disappointments and failures.  Every B-school will pound in how and stress the importance of leadership and “culture” in the workplace.  Interviews for those impossibly in-demand positions too often yield comes with a boxed, burnt out “work hard play hard” answer when asked about culture. Failure to read the warning signs equated a horrific toxic work environment of which I was thrown in and left for dead, getting picked at by the buzzards daily, where the standard of excellence was driven by egotism and narcissism over any sense of new ideas, morality or ethics.  Put up, shut up and fall in line the sake of the deal.

I’ve now learned the hard way and realized what Michael Thompson learned over 38 years – confidence isn’t about self-promotion, it’s about listening, and feeling comfortable applying and promoting others’ winning strategies to build their trust.

In D2, Gordon Bombay went “Hollywood” and got too caught up in the glam and the image, forgetting who he was and what he had learned along the way.  Before it was too late, he traded the suit for the Ducks jacket and got back to where it began.  He encouraged his kids to do what they did best, believing in each in the highest pressure situations despite dirty play and tactic traps laid by the opponent. In the end, the team banded together and won it all for the good-ole U-S-of-A thanks to being confident in who they were and what they could do.

Life isn’t a Disney movie or a sport, but the message is one we can all learn from.  Believe in those around you and express encouragement – we can all benefit in the end so much more than maintainging a fixation on our own self-serving agendas.

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D2: THE MIGHTY DUCKS, Emilio Estevez, Colombe Jacobsen, Shaun Weiss, Matt Doherty, Marguerite Moreau, Joshua Jackson, Justin Wong, etc, 1994.

Transparency spooks! From ghosts to football, an economic shift to the apocalypse.

Transparency spooks and how it’s moving forward in football, business and life. Apocalypse now?

If you’ve missed me of late, I’ve been blogging about the latest sponsorship news and best practices.  We also took a quick “secret shopper” trip to the thriving metropolises of Nephi/Ephraim/Nebo, Utah, stopping at one of the more said-to-be haunted destinations of the area in Leslie’s Family Tree where the Mormon pioneers of yesteryear clashed with the Native Americans.  I’ve done the research and I’m a believer in transparency – which goes beyond unexplainable paranormal phenomenon, but is increasingly and readily applicable in the sports business and our collective impending future.

“The Game” & Beyond

I just got off the phone with a friend and client of mine in Glenn “Shemy” Schembechler, son of the legendary Michigan coach Bo.  Bo learned everything he knew while coaching under Woody Hayes, who would later become his biggest rival.  Both Michigan and that one state school in Ohio largely played the same way for many years.  Everyone knew that both teams were most likely to run the ball on 1st and 2nd down and throwing if need be on 3rd down.  No frills or surprises, they’re going to rely on brilliant strategy and execution to beat you with tough, talented athletes who believe in their schools’ and coaches’ native credos.  Stop it if you can (sorry, the numbers say you likely won’t as both schools are at the top of the alltime recordbooks).

Shemy, who soaked in all that football leadership along the way and utilized it as an NFL scout, has launched GES Advisory Company, designed to utilize the aforementioned institutional knowledge to benefit aspiring high school football players.  His goal is to give high school athletes the chance to play the sport they love in college (he can be reached at: gesadvisory@gmail.com).  Compared to other recruiting services, he goes much deeper when it comes to taking athletic measurements, gauging mental “make-up” and academic interests, and finding a scholastic fit from the “Power 5” schools on down the collegiate chain. 100% success ratio.  To maximize effect from both a hand-to-hand combat success coupled with today’s demands of information transparency, he’s partnered with Sport Testing, a Canadian company with hockey (including NHL) success stories to build on, patent-pending and coming to you soon.  Sport Testing, “the leading provider of sport specific player testing and a developer of athletic assessment technologies,”has developed equipment shown to be the most accurate in gauging athletic performance. It also has created a database to share this data, serving both the athletes and properties.

Man, I wish it existed back when I was playing!  I was always in-season playing a different ball sport and wasn’t taught the right track technique to run a good 40.  My recruiting service was my grandfather with our team highlight VHS tape knocking on the doors of his alma mater to get me a meeting (not that I would’ve made a different school choice).  5 Star football players who get a verbal offer don’t realize that it has no legal binding, nor does that official offer they received. Now, the gap is being bridged.

The Interview

I just mustered the best 30 minute phone interview perhaps I’ve done to date with Project FANchise to be President of the Salt Lake Screaming Eagles football team by mapping out and checking off what I deemed were the success criteria necessary for the position of my dreams. With the CEO in call 1 before he had seen my resume.  I didn’t do it to work with just another minor league team – this is the 1st ever fan run team.  Everything has been voted on by the fans from the city (they’ll be playing at the Maverik Center, where I worked and of which I had the endorsement of the President I was under) to G.M., head coach, logo and even play calls.

This group (an entrepreneurial mix of tech entrepreneurs, digital, NFL and sport business vets) has crowdfunded opportunities for fans all over the world to get involved with the Screaming Eagles.  Yes, the opposing team might know what’s coming, but can they stop it?  The point is, it opens up the dream of getting involved in what you were/are most passionate about to the masses, where the barriers to entry are the most extreme of perhaps any industry.  Typical sports jobs field hundreds if not thousands of resumes per open position.  This doesn’t even touch on how hard it is to become a professional athlete nor begin to speak to the struggle to excel once you get in on the business side when you’re making peanuts while competing with the hopes of countless others to be G.M., etc. someday let alone keep your current job.

What Project FANchise is doing is to utilize digital transparency that social media has provided us all to develop a competitive advantage – it’s giving live “recruiting tape” to not only to the players, coaches and G.M.’s looking to make a pro impact and move up the ranks, but also to Joe Schmo the fan as well (who can be G.M. for a day for $500).  As the Bo’s of the world have stated, “those who stay will be champions.” Brilliant execution can open up big doors of opportunity.

 

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Salt Lake Screaming Eagles – brought to you by the fans

Apocalypse Now?

All over the place, transparency has become apparent and the effects are rampant. It’s what went into the food we eat and the companies making it.  It’s social media.  It’s the manual processes in life that are being replaced by automatic processes that can share valuable data seamlessly.  We’re starting to realize that sitting in traffic for an hour to commute to shuffle papers and sit in abusively boring meetings all day isn’t always the most productive or efficient way of doing business.

According to the Martin School at Oxford, 47% of today’s jobs in the U.S. will be replaced by artificial intelligence and robots within the next twenty years.   Like the farmers of yesteryear, collaboration will likely create new opportunities.

Or, maybe Terminator was correct and machines are coming to bring about the apocalypse.

Maybe I wasn’t named the 1st President of the Salt Lake Screaming Eagles (someone else got the gig who had been a Minor League Baseball CEO).  I know where I align when it comes to complaining vs. solving come the next apocalypse.  How about you?

Maybe you’ll become the next lost soul tragically left behind to walk between worlds.

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The Terminator fighting the apocalypse with automatic weapons

 

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“The Woman of Bachelor’s Grove”


 

Riots, gunshots, developing world mobility. Oh, and a quality Caribbean vacation on the cheap.

Adventures back in the Dominican Republic.

The Moves:

Still floating somewhere between European and Mountain time zones and current hostile affairs like political blunders and terrorism in Nice, I rediscovered a few American habits quickly.  I went nuts at my local Smith’s grocery store and bought a bunch of unhealthy stuff I didn’t need. I pounded out some productive work time.  And, gained a sense of perceived “manliness” I hadn’t experienced before by taking my car to the shop, pulling out and charging the battery after it’s juices had drained in the hot sun for two weeks.  We also had a fantastic wedding getaway for Alli’s cousin Nate and his Brazilian bride in Park City staying at the fabulous Hotel Park City.

Also, I booked another trip abroad leaving 8 days from the last.

The Return:

Every summer, Alli’s volunteered to take students for a service trip to a different developing country.  This time, it was the Dominican Republic.  Two trips like that back to back is a lot for anyone, especially with planning and funding in mind.  Thankfully, I had another set of credit card bonus offer points to pave the way. The last time, it was my Marriott Rewards Visa, this time my Skymiles Amex got me just about enough points for a flight to the D.R. (although not the full bonus because I had it and cancelled it before using it previously, despite hitting all the benchmarks).

As part of a study abroad experience and the equivalent of my graduate school thesis, I went with my George Washington University School of Business cohorts and each of us explored our own topic of choice tied to baseball, tourism and the D.R.  It was such an eye-opening experience for me that really opened my eyes to opportunities beyond our topic of choice (mine was a case study on the Pittsburgh Pirates’ comparative international efforts).  Although I wanted to hold out to go somewhere new, I caved for the prospects of Cuba, consulting angles and the chance to learn how one could help more in the D.R. not to mention the chance to live a little Caribbean life, “mon.”

Community + Compromises:

We agreed to do this one her way.  She describes her style as “hopping on a bus without being sure where it’s going.”  Antithesis of plans. I like to maximize the experience.  I arrived in the capitol of Santo Domingo, where Christopher Columbus (o Cristobal Colon) landed and created the 1st city of the New World soon after 1492. I was picked up by my softball teammate’s brother Jose Ignacio, who first took me to a meeting I had set up from my 2011 contact list. I sat down with the President of TURENLACES, a tourism organization and spoke about some consulting ideas tied to my past project and visit.  She voiced that there’s still huge opportunity for baseball tourism.  More international players in MLB come from the tiny island that is the D.R. than any other place – kids drop out of school to focus on it early. She also voiced that a small % go back to community service – specifically schools or teaching women a trade.  She said that they really have a tough time – stay home, often working on something and the men come home, take the money and leave them with little if anything, going to spend it on beer.  Political corruption makes it tough for big change when it comes to sustainability, etc.

The Struggle

Jose Ignacio provided a unique perspective on the Dominican struggle. He’s got a Master’s in Engineering, had been working on a skilled logistical engineering project, yet was without full-time work at the time and was doing Uber while trying to land what’s next. He said college grads make $800-1000 per month in the D.R. on average and that he was at $1800 with that project, yet $400 or $700 at factory and other jobs despite the degrees. Subsistence living, with education often not playing as much of a factor making it hard to get ahead.  Over a nice Dominican-cooked dinner on the water featuring Mofongo (plantains mashed with avocado and meat – fantastic sweet and sour mix, and Sancocho – a number of meats in a stew), I heard about their mother, who raised them in nearby San Cristobal while working three nurse jobs after their father was lost when they were young – electrocuted while working on a car.

Eudy, his brother, had a big tryout with the Angels, and it didn’t end up working out but he was still able to come to the U.S. and play at Utah State.  He’s now successful in software, married (which was news to us) and needs to have a kid to help solidify citizenship.  We then went to a comado or colmado for a Presidente, which is the equivalent of a neighborhood hangout spot that sells beers and the like.

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Jose Ignacio and our dinner setting

Botches and the Europeans’ Continued Influence 

Then the ugly head of lacking international wireless coverage kicked in. WiFi-less botched flight pick-up of the lady, who’s flight was delayed, but not by the 4 hours we eventually located her later.  Up for 48 straight hours put her out for the next day.  I got to know the internationals at the Island Life Backpacker’s Hostel in the heart of Zona Colonial in Santo Domingo. Yan, a Dutch student was solo-exploring the remote mountains near Haiti before working his way down to Domingo and taking off on a 60 day sailing trip to the Azores islands off of Portugal before being back to Holland.  Francisco got tired of the Chilean routine and moved to the D.R. with his home-made Marlin spearfishing gun. Romanian, Dutch, British, German, French and 1 American weighed in on the hidden wonders of the D.R. beyond the tourist havens of Punta Cana and Puerto Plata.  After exploring the ruins, Christopher Columbus house and the likes of Zona Colonial and missing out on last spots on an Isla Saona excursion, we took off for a chosen hidden gem.

LOCO!!

When we got to Las Terranas of the Samana Peninsula, there was a swarm of guys looking to get us to point B without cars.  You’re going to get us and our bags there on your motorcycle? You got it.  These locals buzzed around on bikes and scooters all day, constantly looking for tourists they could give “moto” rides to for 50-100 pesos per person.  Based on recommendation, we stayed at Fata Morgana – a set of hostel casitas owned by a Dutch expatriate and local guide named Edith, who lived with her 15 year old son on this sprawling private tropical plot along with 4 dogs, 2 cats, and 2 donkey lovers who found you anytime food was potentially around.

Las Terranas was said to be heavily French and Euro-influenced but walking up through the town it was very third-world local.  Locals outside their tiny casas (houses), comaldos, tiendas (shops) or bancas. I tried to trade in cash at bancas in Domingo and got funny looks, later finding out that they’re lotteries (obviously government-backed) and they’re everywhere.  Beer and lotteries for the poor to invest the few pesos they’ve made and they’re everywhere.  We ended up deeply lost in a very poor neighborhood trying to find the beach while getting directed through backyards, etc. but never got a bad look or felt in danger. We finally stumbled onto the beach, where the Euro-influenced was discovered, explored a bit and ended up taking an adventurous motocoche home.

 

The next day we discovered the beauty of Playa Bonita – a 20 minute walk from our place.  Fine, caramel brown sands, turquoise water, no wonder it was named a top beach in a country with so many great beaches.  After some fresh catch and Presidentes on the water, we walked back, noticing burning trash and the like in the street.  There was lots of trash lying around and if you’ve been to developing countries, you know trash cleanup and disposal is not a priority – survival is. Another fire was off a ways a bit into the brush.

We got back and Edith said there will be no going out tonight – there is a strike that started the night before when we lost power.  It had been a long-endured battle with the electric company, who held a monopoly and was apparently charging the town 3x what others were paying – a really big deal when you’re barely getting by.  The locals had had it and were going to let it be known.  No, not by picket signs either. She showed photos of riot police being sent in the night before, tear gas being shot, fires in the street, etc.  We spent the night playing cards by lantern with the power out commenting when there weren’t gunshots over a 10-15 minute span.  I handled it the only way you could and pretty much the normal nightcap: rum, fresh-rolled cigars, and a hammock listening to shots fired in every direction that wasn’t water.  The locals weren’t going to loot or target their own, they wanted the government’s attention, and we actually fell asleep and actually ended up sleeping better than the previous night (believe it or not).

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No power, riots + gunfire in 3  directions.

We woke up early as we had set up a trip to get off-campus and take a ferry for a tour around the national park across the bay for some caving adventures with Native American paintings and the like.  8 came and went and no pick-up.  The locals were buzzing around like usual, while the street messes were cleaned up.  They had set ablaze electric poles in prominent places, which were still smoldering.  The message had gotten across and a meeting was set with President Danilo, who was the popular choice during our group on the last visit (they have “next door neighbor” photos of candidates looking approachable in suits all over, we probably just saw his the most).  There were many riot police around in case the strike re-engaged, which was common but didn’t happen as the power was back and the meeting was set – initial win for the people.

Hidden Beauty

We were enticed to leave to another legendary beach on the drier east side of the peninsula in Playa Rincon, or a surf beach up the coast in Cabarete, yet were encouraged by others that those are nice but the grass was pretty green here. So, despite all the craziness, we stayed.  We hitched a “guagua” ride on the back of a truck through the next town to El Salto de Limon, fought off claims that hiring a guide with a horse was mandatory and ditched them when they tried to follow us.  A tough climb later, we reached two fantastic waterfalls.  We let the tourist waves pass and enjoyed a cool swim under these, tucked in the tropical mountains.

Although I grew up often near and on the beach, I did a lot of bodysurfing with my pops in the small waves of the Gulf, but never learned to surf until Australia and I hadn’t picked up a board since then in 2006.  I decided to give it another shot at Playa Bonita by renting a longboard for the day.  The surf at Bonita was straight forward for a noob like myself and the beach and waves were pretty empty that day.  I was up on my 3rd try although it wasn’t necessary all gravy from then.  It was tough re-adjusting to catching waves at the right tempo from paddle to peak.  It was tough balancing weight on the pop-up, and surfing just  really takes it out of you.  I got up a good amount, thanks to a helpful drop-off closer to shore and it felt pretty awesome to improve upon where I was at back when and spend a day sitting, spotting and riding waves in such an unbelievable setting.  The shop pro who was watching me from the beach said I needed to keep my arms in and together to get up better.  There’s always next time for further improvements – or maybe learning paddle boarding or better yet kitesurfing!

We then went to explore another hidden gem in Coson, said to be an hour and a half walk from Playa Bonita, with a cool river, desolate beach and mountain scenery, and a legendary restaurant in Luis’ serving the freshest catch you could imagine.  We were joined by two westernized Israeli guys Lior and Avner, just fresh out of the mandatory Army service everyone in Israel serves after high school, who served in Intelligence and at least had some good stories to share.  Lior was traveling for 6 months starting in Spain and Portugal through the Caribbean and ending up in Colombia, Avner previously trekked through much of South America similarly. The walk was about an hour up some remarkable beach line.  It was Sunday, so the Dominicans were off and enjoying it and Coson was more crowded then advertised. We passed a gathering then doubled back to what we found out was Luis’ before enjoying some amazingly fresh catch and sides.  We looked down the shore and could see how on any other day, this setting could offer a uniquely desolate and beautiful scenery and solace.

Back Where It Literally Started

To get more of a look into the area, I thought we’d take the scenic route.  6 vehicle transitions later, we reached the town of Samaná, a colorful town home to many great winter whale-watches on the bay.  We were advised not to take the scenic ferry as the buses back to Domingo didn’t run late enough, so no scenic ferry ride back. We enjoyed a very nice meal at the hotel across the street, met a local guy who played for the Pirates Dominican team a few years back. I checked out his gift shop, bought some Larimar gifts (blue colored stone found only off the south coast of the D.R.), traded numbers as he had a few 15 year olds he thought were good enough to get signed soon and talked about another visit in the winter.

After many vehicle transfers later, we made it to another hostel oasis in Zona Colonial. She left early, I spent a day wandering (read: mostly lost) in and outside of Zona Colonial, finding great food deals in Chinatown on empanadas and the freshest most wonderful fruit smoothie I’ve had (under $2 combined) plus some valuable directions.  I checked out the Rum & Sugar Cane Museum then spent more than I could’ve on Coffee & Passion Fruit Rum made in the Museum, cigars rolled right as I watched at El Tabaquero (3rd visit there) and the legendary local/mythical Mamajuana drink – a mix of rum and red wine with the root of a special plant (said to be an elixir with special mood enhancement powers).  All to enable me to channel a day in the Caribbean life/my inner pirate.

The Lay (Over)

Before long, I was off that flight full of excited Dominicans and back stateside spending a nasty overnight layover on the floor of the JFK airport to avoid missing my 7am connection.  I was excited to soon not have to think, speak and navigate unfamiliar territory in Spanish, got a patty melt at a diner and thought about what the takings were from the trip.  Here they are:

Takings

  • Take advantage of credit card bonus offers to score amazing trips, helping you do it on the cheap (we spent less than $1,500).
  • If you’re adventurous, shed the group/tourist mentality and get off the reservation and off the beaten path, finding out from locals where the best spots are. What you may lose in perceived security and comfort, you’ll make up much more in life experience and cultural understanding.
  • There is ample opportunity to help developing countries via volunteer work, stimulating new thought and economic impact, etc.
  • Developing countries may seem to offer much comparative opportunity but infrastructure is very hard to change, especially if built on long histories of corruption.  Advancement programs in schools, job training especially for females is much needed beyond the programs that feed on the poor like the lotteries.
  • There is distinct need for decentralized energy and I’m interested in further exploring making Solar cheaper and more palatable for the poor – would need buy in from MLB and energy partner to help reduce costs and benefit the masses to sway the government from the deep pockets of monopolies clearly exploiting the masses.
  • Dominicans are very intrigued by Americans, will market services like everyone else but not relentlessly. You are not in trouble going “off the reservation” unless you’re really sticking out uncomfortably.
  • The Caribbean islands are all very unique with much pre/post colonized history. We’re kicking ourselves for not making Cuba happen – the clock is ticking on seeing this gem before we corrupt it. It’s about stepping into the past and the culture, not the beaches there. Bring plenty of American cash though, you’re in big trouble if you run out!.

As always, don’t hesitate to try me for more.

Salud y un amor,

-CR

 

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Great spot for beers, a taco and talk from Larry

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Playa Bonita

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The famous feast at Luis’ with the Israelis

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El Salto de Limon

 

 

 

THIS is what it’s all about. Transformation.

The crux and motivation behind True North Team Consulting.

While catching up on sports buzz one day, I stumbled on this interview that I found to be especially surprising and valuable:

Joe Theismann on The Dan Le Batard Show Clip

Anyone that came across Joe Theisman, either as a fan, personally or working in the ‘biz would agree.  He was a first-class piece of work (to put it nicely).  Everything about him reeked of arrogance – his personality, his comments, his attitude, even his steakhouse.  He won one Super Bowl in a town without too many, and it’s safe to say that all the notoriety over the years made his head swell.

Sadly, this is not a phenomenon unique to Joe, who believably has made a remarkable turnaround in self-realization. Modern society puts our modern day gladiators of sports or earnings on a pedestal and it has a societal effect.

I, Charles Reynolds, had even caught the bug and this is my story.

I graduated from Michigan feeling near the top of the food chain as a part of Michigan football, put up and on the field for ESPN/ABC Sports and a member of swag-centric Beta Theta Pi. My competitive spirit was at a high, that is, until it became time to get a job. I didn’t have those players I was close with signed, so I had to find another way in.

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On the field, pregame at the Big House as a Manager.

I landed in a New Orleans rebuilding from the wrath of Katrina two years after the fact making a hot $17,500 as the newest Inside Sales member for the New Orleans Hornets, who had just quietly arrived back from a positive hiatus in Oklahoma City.  I had the sales pedigree and heralded Game Face Academy training, but that didn’t change that all the phone pounding equating to hearing:

He/she has relocated/died because of the storm/we’re rebuilding/who are the Hornets?

To couple that up, the group was out at our favorite bar Lucy’s after the 2nd game of the season.  Spirits are high, until someone said something to the VP of Ticketing’s wife, a punch was thrown and we were out a VP and Director the next day leaving a skeleton staff.  We were last in the NBA in attendance and notably, Mark Cuban called out our efforts (of which I called him out on, getting him to successfully acknowledge after an MIT Sloan Sport Analytics panel in 2012).  We kept at it, took what we could get, and got some nice publicity by hosting All Star Weekend (which allowed my to sit courtside as a seat filler for Magic Johnson).  The team was playing outer-worldly and Chris Paul was becoming the star he is now in leading the group.

The buzz over the Bees had caught on leading into playoffs and everybody wanted in. I was told my promotion was coming for some time and it finally did (less than 1/2 of Inside Sales reps get hired full-time traditionally).  Our numbers and demands were huge as we took on the NBA’s most-gracious benefit (“Lagniappe” – Cajun speak for extra value) program, we had a great president in Hugh Weber who instilled a community culture in the mix and everything started clicking. We targeted Mark Cuban on our weekly sales contests as the face on the dartboard and the team finished 2nd in the Western Conference. We got the chance to “stop the flop” in the 1st round against Cuban’s Mavericks and our fans made sure he heard about it in his seats near the bench as we won the first playoff series since the team’s move to the city in 2001-2002.  We had the vaunted Spurs on the ropes and a season ticket holder had my plane ticket booked for some love on Western Conference Finals tickets against the Lakers. Despite the series slipping away, the Hive rocked like it never had before with decibels maxing out like at the crazy Superdome across the street.

Despite the turnaround, the team had a legislative agreement to break its lease if fewer than 14,735 fans per game came out to support the team.  Would we be back in OKC, where the place sold-out within days? San Diego? The new Sprint Center in Kansas City? Pressures were sky-high to hit that while finding a way to generate 10k new season ticket holders in a market with the constraints of a poor market largely ignored by our country’s decision-makers during a time of unmatched need.

Well, the grind paid off. Not only did we hit our marks, but we pushed and broke the NBA record for new full season tickets sold (a mark held previously by the Baron Davis led Golden State Warriors) – a monstrous jump from under 2,000 full season equivalents to 12,000 from year-to-year.

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Celebrating an NBA record campaign with Chris Paul (CP3)

Despite the least amount of tenure and local connections (I knew 1 person in New Orleans before moving there) – I outsold the lot.  $2 million produced, including potentially having to see, know and service over 700 people in the house at any game. Like those other top producers that got promoted to manager, I thought I was ready for that.  I bought my dream car in cash – a black IS 350 Lexus. I flew my brother down for the cruise we won for hitting the record.  I was living too fast and too hard, getting in anywhere in town, living wildly in a city with a constant party environment. My head had swelled, it had caught up to me before I knew it and I found myself back to square one, without a job.

I had opportunities to sell for the top potential major league organizations but instead regrouped, dropped off the map to put work into my GMATs and opted for grad school.  Law school and the JD/MBA’s of the world were appealing, but it was late in application season.  Dr. Bill Sutton, who helped start the NBA’s lauded Team Business Marketing & Operations (TMBO) department under Commissioner Stern suggested building on successes for any host of potential teams over going back to grad school, but I was determined that a grad degree was what I needed to get ahead.  I then accepted a Graduate Assistant position to mentor an outsourced sales staff for the Memphis Grizzlies while pursuing an M.S./M.B.A. at the University of Memphis, where I thoroughly enjoyed teaching the ins-and-outs of helping students learn the ropes of what an official relationship with a major league team equated to, while leading a national Case Cup championship extracurricularly with “Operation BobSTATS.” In the process, we produced a 15x revenue multiple while helping place aspiring sports business pros nationwide from the program and Sport Sales Combine. Memphis wasn’t all glitz and glamour as I lived in a roach-infested place and market in need of a lot of uplift.  Again, another major communication snag  was realized when I demanded just average treatment while getting my car serviced – but at the wrong place (a key sponsor of the team).

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With my University of Memphis Case Cup Champion Team and “Coach” Dick Irwin

Another move was in order and I found myself passing up a great opportunity to sell for the World Series Champion San Francisco Giants (who’s VP in Russ Stanley is the most legendary in the ‘biz, 2 more “even year” rings to come) to move up the importance ladder (or so I thought) in sponsorship, the nation’s capitol and a top 50 global M.B.A. program in G.W. Reality set in hard with 18 credit hours of night classes, 3 hours of D.C. traffic a day and a demanding unpaid internship of which I was putting 6 days a week into.  Everybody and their sister with an Ivy League degree wanted into sports in D.C. and rights holders capitalized on this potential for cheap labor for the sake of “experience.”  Warning bells should’ve been ringing when I heard “internship” and not “job” during recruitment.  I graduated super-fast-tracked with two grad degrees in just over two years thanks to a back-breaking schedule allowing my a few hours of sleep at night after school and internship requirements were over.

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With family after M.B.A. graduation in D.C. – including my grandfather and motivation for this platform.

I was left out to dry, though: square 1 when it came to jobs and had to move home to minimize the student loan burn I had taken on and was making no traction despite the pedigree.  Months later, I set up an NYC stay with a school friend and meetings at the NFL League Office on draft day 2012 among others, which spurned other interest.  I picked up IMG College’s Ticket Solutions founder at the airport and sat down to discuss becoming Pitt’s Ticketing GM, drove back to Michigan and flew to Utah the next morning for a few hours. I couldn’t wait for the property to get signed and found myself again a transplant to a strange place, taking a pay cut from my pre-grad school days in the process.

My grit was put to the ultimate test day-in and day-out. The results were there on a large-scale as I got to shape a minor league game-day experience to the tune of production unmatched going years back while influencing the next generation, bumped my partnership average to nearly $100k and 3 years per deal at a top league property despite smallest market, but never received the all-important recognition or validation (which costs nothing). More valuable lessons in leadership learned.

Luckily, I settled down with a girl for the first time who spent her life helping people.  Things had been re-framed for me and I realized how important it was to not only acquire work experience and monetary or physical resources, but more so positive life experiences, especially those that could be passed on for the benefit of others and myself in turn.

Like Joe eventually found out, life is not about stuff, publicity or fame. Be real, remember where you were, who you are and what got you there, live to maximize your experiences in the world, share your “box” and you’ll leave a lot more fulfilled.

 

Recapping Travels: Backwards & Forwards

2 weeks, 8 flights, 20,000 Fitbit steps and approximately 7 miles per day, numerous shuttles, metro rides and even a few Uber and Lyft rides thrown in, my girlfriend and I have returned safely to Utah.  Just with feet and cankles that feel like a whale carcass off of Guadalupe Island after the Great Whites found it. Long live #SharkWeek, I will refrain from mentioning shoe brands for fear of losing future endorsements.

A story of the new meets the old.

Our family on my mom’s mother’s side arrived in this country in Maine in 1607.  Thanks to elaborate genealogical research done by the family, we’ve traced relatives who arrived to Casco Bay off of the Portland coast (part of the Calendar Islands, 365 in sum), not to mention more than a few from the Mayflower. While I joked with my mom about the recipe to a great nap being playing the audiobook on the Mayflower settlers in the car, it was fun to share lobster with generations of the Furlong, Leighton, and Knowlton clans dispersed across this great land. We commemorated my legendary grandfather, who passed last summer and had adopted Maine as his, for reasons we grew to know well every summer growing up.

After a quick Boston visit, reuniting with Study Australia study abroad friends in the South End and Back Bay, it was off to Europe.  TAP Portugal, along with Norweigan have offered great deals from certain locations (keep an eye out on Twitter for these), which we capitalized on over Hawaii or South America.

To avoid ridiculous roaming charges, it was Airplane Mode from then on (except for emergencies).  Here’s to testing the claim that millennials can’t operate without consistent WiFi and outlets.

Although my Airbnb “mom” in Prague might tell you otherwise, it worked out okay without WiFi in foreign speaking lands, despite being a 1st timer on a number of fronts.

Once a property of the U.S.S.R. with major city statues of Stahlin, Czechoslovakia split from the red grasp in 1989 and a few years later, the Czech Republic and Slovakia (where my father’s mother’s Demovic relatives hailed) split from each other a few years later.  Not more than a few years ago, Prague was supposed to be the place to go to live like a king on the cheap.  Not so much anymore as the secret is out.  The history and architecture is amazing, walkable, and German-like food and beers are still cheap though (under $2 at most places for premium local beers).

On to Barcelona, where we felt the ramifications of an airline services strike that started in France (see previous blog post).  Thanks to Marriott Rewards, we stayed at a hotel so modern that we didn’t figure out how to turn on the lights until we checked out.  Glass, Palm tree motif and live foliage throughout.  My kind of place minus the uppity service. And oh, the pool:

We spent five nights soaking in the infectious laid-back culture, the modern (read: oh-so topless) beaches, tapas (too many good places to rely on recommendations) and Gaudi influence of all the different neighborhoods and their tiny, walkable corridors. We met some newlywed Americans while wearing my authentic Nike USA Soccer polo (from Team USA), Californians in Portland who happened to be big Timbers fans that checked out Camp Nuell (F.C. Barcelona stadium) backstage.  No peanut gallery comments while taking US&A photos around town. My New Orleans Hornets dry fit the day before got more banter from an enthusiastic NBA fan yelling across the Metro stop for 20 minutes about his love for basketball, us, and mostly himself.

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Our Barcelona Renaissance hotel & pool view.

Because our flight was round-trip via Prague, we had to fly back there despite our Lisbon connection being only an hour away.  We made the best of it by stocking up on more Czech Absinthe.  We were pretty worn by the time we touched down in Lisbon, and the WiFi-less Metro to walk all over a town filled with cobblestones with slopes like San Francisco to find our Airbnb was a chore.  We made the best of the next morning, checking out an ancient castle in scenic Lisbon, grabbing a local bite, a few gifts and a real sweat before our flight of which we made by the narrowest of margins after getting lost on the walk back.

My takes? Yes, millennials can survive in unfamiliar lands (nearly) devoid of WiFi.  With a little bit of Spanish, some luck and a sense of adventure, we proved that.  The Spanish and Portugese are tremendous folks, but lack the sense of hospitality that we have here (it wasn’t just that I was wearing my new FC Barca shirt on the TAP Portugal flight back with Portugal just making it to the Euro Cup Championship).  Using plastic is a chore unlike in the States.  Living like a local via Airbnb is the way to go, doing more than the tourist traps even if it means getting lost in a neighborhood etc. while getting to know the Metro to save $.  Airports were much easier to navigate there then here (I didn’t have issues until having to go through Security twice in Boston on the way back). JetBlue rocks kind of like Southwest used to.

It was quite the adventure, getting acclimated with the lineage on and mostly off-the-grid.  With a good international cell/WiFi service, a Tim Ferriss “4-Hour Workweek” lifestyle can be had rich in life experiences in places where you can find new perspectives, which was fully put into view when arriving back in a country full of mass shootings and race wars.

Obrigado (“thanks” in Portugese).