mountainlabblog

[mountainlabblog]

First-time Factory Visit

Unfinished boots on the line. Soon these will climb mountains.

This past March, the TML team took a trip to visit two of our clients in Europe to take a look at the operations, meet the entirety of the individual teams, discuss product, and to really get to know these brands we would be partnering with.

One of the many highlights of the trip was having the opportunity to visit and interact with the entire production chain for AKU’s various shoe, boot and highly technical mountaineering lines.

Tucked away in Montebelluna, Italy, a mere stone’s throw from the Italian Dolomites, AKU’s offices and factory work in conjunction with each other on the brand’s footwear from the ground up. This dynamic, while not completely exclusive to this brand alone, is atypical of footwear, I’ve learned in my short few years in the industry. As I walked into the office on my first morning in Italy ever, I had my eyes opened to not only the precise cooperation and synchronization between departments, but also the close personal relationships that existed within the brand, regardless of whether one worked on design, or on the injection mold line.

…That and coffee. Europeans, I learned, are huge on coffee, and the machines that pop out whatever you order, seemed magical to me. I’ll have a couple more red-eyes, please.

We began the tour by dropping our bags off in the showroom; it’s always nice to see the final products, however merely looking at the final products doesn’t quite do the creation process justice. It was important though, to note how many different styles existed in the brand’s line—an importance I would realize only two or three steps into the process as I silently extrapolated the amount of work for one style, into several dozens of styles.

Heading upstairs past the designers’ offices, we visited the room that housed prototype ideas, materials and concept drawings that would soon make it off of paper, and into a computer for pattern digitizing. To be totally cliché, this is where the magic happens—where ideas are either modified, scrapped or graduate to the next step in the production process.

As we made our way out to the factory floor, we hit two pit-stops on the way. The first was a smaller warehouse in which materials were stored. Lucky for me, a pallet of leather was just opened up and being tested for quality control. To be honest, I didn’t ever think about the amount of work that goes into simply making sure the materials received, were of the quality desired. Each delivery of leather went through vigorous testing, from color, to thickness, to imperfections, to even sending a sample to Gore-Tex for its own independent testing.

After the materials warehouse, we said hello to the guys behind the computer screens who digitized the 2D drawings into individual 3D patterns. This stage was effectively a test of whether the design made sense in the real world or not. If it didn’t, then the design would go back upstairs for review and adaptation. Once a drawing was digitized, each pattern became apparent. The construction of an individual boot was starting to make sense.

From pattern digitization, we walked through the doors into the factory itself. We were greeted by a large machine that projected patterns of light onto the materials, and in this case, a large sheet of Gore-Tex liner. The operator was careful to achieve the maximum yield, as anything but optimum pattern placement meant a waste of material for the next shoe. From here, the Gore-Tex patterns went straight to the sewing machine and prototype sewer Maria Stella, within a couple of minutes, had the liner in the form of a foot and ready for taping. Once the seams were taped, the liner was then inflated and submerged to test for waterproofing. It’s not that I didn’t believe in the technology, but it’s an eye opener to watch the liner literally keep water out and pressurized air in.

Maria had the liner completed in a matter of minutes. 

Keep in mind we haven’t even begun the construction of the upper, only the liner. This was one hell of a process, and by the end, I was completely amazed that these boots and shoes were able to make it to market for as relatively inexpensive as they do. This realization, I felt, was applicable to all footwear.

We continued down the line in what felt like a real-life timelapse, materials turning into parts of boots and eventually the parts into individual completed boots. The workers on the line smiled, and looked critically at each piece and process he or she was responsible for, really revealing to me the individual pride in the craftsmanship that takes place on the floor each and every day, for each and every item.

This terminator-esque machine stretched the upper around the lasting board and prepared the boots for the application of a sole. 

One of the several instances of buffing that takes place.

In order to create a perfect shoe or boot, each and every process must be carried out with precision. 

But alas, there are no shortcuts here, and a cut corner on one end of the line, would render the rest of the line’s effort and work, a waste. Each piece and each process must build off of the last in order to achieve the quality the brand prides itself on.

Some of the guys on the floor had been working with AKU as of their teens, some had become complete specialists in individual tasks and Luigi, the lasting line manager, was even ready to retire after three and a half decades of working on the floor. He even had his own Facebook fan page among the staff at AKU.

Obviously this little Italian operation was very different from an overseas operation in Asia for several reasons I was able to identify pretty quickly, even with my limited experience.

The first was the ability to rapid prototype—and I mean rapid. The office being right next to the factory lent the ability to come up with a design, and to turn that design into a physical prototype and eventually a sample in a very short timeframe with minimal constraints. There would be no lag time in communication between factory and office, no minimums, no hesitation to apply a trial and error style approach to something new. This is an approach that just oozes innovation and in which ideas can come from anywhere and anyone in the process.

The second major difference I had assumed, was the family feeling of the whole thing. Everyone knew each other and were friends, and sometimes even related. Galliano, the original founder of AKU, is even known to regularly be on the factory floor playing with new ideas. In fact, he came into our line meeting at around 6:30pm the first night, after obviously being around the operation all day. That says something.

Full moon hike, stoke was high.

Finally, the location of the entire operation sat in an enormous testing ground. Not only was it possible to create prototypes, but it was possible to turn around and test these prototypes in the field, which was essentially AKU’s backyard. The team believed so much in this ethos that they invited the TML team for a full-moon hike in which we would be able to try out one of the more popular trekking boots. We were quick to realize that by “full-moon hike,” they meant post-holing straight up an old ski area to a summit with a killer view and summer villas, where we would eventually drink Prosecco and eat delicious cheese in sub-freezing temperatures by moonlight.

We wrapped up the work week with a family style lunch on the eve of Easter weekend. The whole team, factory line workers and all, sat at a table set for a couple dozen and we enjoyed a multi-course meal as if we were all related. The brand truly has some great team chemistry and bonds, a characteristic that’s imperative when running an operation such as this one.

I’m incredibly grateful to have had my first factory experience in one as unique as AKU’s. I do look forward to eventually taking a peek at the way other factories and operations work, but not as much as I look forward to visiting the AKU team in Italy again…Maybe I’ll have to extend my return flight out by a week or so the next time around and really take advantage of the backyard these guys are blessed to have.

[mountainlabblog]

The Road From OR

I have a feeling this is why I like Nevada so much. The state is seemingly desolate anywhere outside of the mini metropolises that exist on the north and south end of the state and the quiet towns we gas up at in central Nevada, but I for some reason remain fully allured. It takes our crew roughly 9 hours of driving each way to and from Salt Lake City and Mammoth, often only seeing a car or two per hour, if that—all the while clocking sub-zero temperatures and the occasional random blizzard that can stop drivers faster than any other mountainous region I’ve visited.

Nameless-to-me mountain ranges litter the silver state and inspire adventure as long as I have enough sunlight to peer out of the truck windows. Now, to be fair, there’s a lot of history, danger, unknowns, and very little people…the perfect recipe for some type 3+ adventure. Regardless of all of that, I think the reason I’m so inspired on the road back from Salt Lake City is because of having just spent a week at Outdoor Retailer.

The people, the brands, the causes, the athletes, the stories, the gear, the parties, the lack of sleep and the red-eyed expresso shots to make it all right…all of it plays into the euphoric mindset of the drive home in which I’m attempting to describe. I feel like I felt when I was child when we used to drive up to Tahoe from the Bay Area- all of that snow and the mountains that seemed to go forever beyond the road and the ski resort—the possibilities seemed endless to me at the time—they still do today, but as a young adult I’m looking much further beyond the highways.

Maybe I’m still a newb in the space. After all, it’s only been six shows for me so far, but I still get the same feeling when leaving OR. In fact, I think it’s been becoming more apparent and intense towards my last few shows, partially because I’m really getting that feeling of belonging, and the fact that I now have dozens and dozens of friends I can hang out with comfortably at this point.

What’s going through my head on these drives back?

There are the obvious thoughts relating to work and everything we’ve put together, organized and orchestrated at TML, as well as the potential project seedlings in which the team casually discusses, but sometimes I’m also off in my own world. Staring into the sunset with my nose pressed to the window (if we’re lucky enough to leave with 4 or 5 hours of daylight left) at these mystery ranges, I can’t help but feel inspired to send these adventurous trips in which I’ve fallen in love with—mainly because for a week straight I’ve been surrounded by people who have already sent their own missions into the unknown, survived, and have come back to tell otherworldly tales to their friends and acquaintances at the show.

At the show I’m surrounded by people who pursue missions much bigger than themselves and are SUCCEEDING in changing the world, even if by just a little bit at a time.

I’m surrounded by people who have built their lives around adventure and have somehow made it lucrative enough to be self-sustaining.

I’m surrounded by the young, new generation of explorers, adventures and photographers, all of whom are completely stoked on each other’s progress towards the dream. We all have a feeling we’re going to make it one day, it just takes some hardcore perseverance and work, not to mention the mental support of one’s peers.

The show is way more than happy hours, catalogs, booths, softgoods and hardgoods. It’s about the people who make these gears fit together and turn. I literally leave the show inspired to be a million times greater than when I arrived.

With that, I’m stoked to see everyone this summer and I can’t wait to hear about the rest of the winter adventures, both during coffee a half hour before the doors open and an hour after they’ve closed as we finish a final happy hour beer.

Cheers everyone, send it!

A

[mountainlabblog]

Did it for the likes

It’s not a very good shot, for I am no photographer, but I did think it was pretty cool to catch the Sierra shadow lining up with the snowline on the Whites

Wednesday I ducked out of work early to take the dog out via split. She’s been a really good sport about hanging either at home or in the backyard while I work and snowboard during the daylight hours, so I figured I owed her a midweek adventure.

I managed to rope a buddy into the destinationless traverse along the Sherwin Range that looks over town, and while I really enjoy going out solo with the pup at least once a week because it clears the mind and feels good to be alone in the wilderness with her, I was appreciative of his and his dog’s company. I have a feeling his common sense wouldn’t let me try for 3k vert and 9+ miles round trip starting at 1pm, and so he felt compelled to cruise with.

We started late, naturally, and took our time on the ascent. It was rocky, the sagebrush created pockets in the skintrack and to be honest, it was a huge pain in the ass to get up there. Once we were up, it was nice. The sun was warm, the views of the Sierra crest gave us an idea of coverage and to our surprise, there was enough snow on the ridgetop to keep skinning.

We skinned until the sun started to crest the mountains to our west and figured it was a good time to hang out, take in the view and call it. The four of us (dogs included) marveled at the shadow cast by the Sierra on our neighboring White Mountains, the lights pop on in town down below and the sunset start to really blow up as we strapped back in for the skin back down the hill.

Many likes

Quick, an unposted image! How do we show that we like it?

She’s happy with the midweek special

We were able to ski (yes, ski, with our splitties) for a total of about 50 feet before we headed back by sunset and later, moonlight. We survived without any dislocated hips.

There were no gnarly lines, no face shots, no GoPro footage. We literally just went for a walk across a ridgetop for 4 hours and it was, oddly enough, relaxing. A great midweek treat for the dogs, really. I joked that we were doing it for the likes, because I had to post a shot or two on Instagram, but it wasn’t about that at all. It was about taking the dogs out after work and getting our skinning legs under us in anticipation of a long season. On a Wednesday. That’s all.

-Alex

[mountainlabblog]

Balance

Today was day 17 of being on the snow for me, and it it’s only slightly halfway through November. I’ve got two days on the split, 2 days on the sled, a couple days hiking the ski hill before it opened and the rest have been close to 50% pow days on the hill. I’ve sat on half a dozen first-chairs already and have also blown out about 18 inches of edge on my daily driver—which I’ve managed to frankenstein back together… (it’s what screws and p-tex, epoxy, beer and friends are for.)

Ouch, that hurt. No stress, this can be fixed, right? 

This amount of riding is more than most people do all season, and given the state of the snow and weather last season, I probably didn’t hit these numbers until January. Sure, I may only do a handful of runs before I need to bail, but I’m on the snow as much as possible, and this season I’ve been out 100% of the days there’s been snow on the ground.

I’m not writing this to brag about how much I snowboard, rather to demonstrate that it’s possible to pack half a month of riding in during early season and still manage to show up to work 5 days a week. Yes, sometimes I show up at noon and sometimes I leave at 1 to hike, but I’ll be damned if I skip work entirely. In fact, I’ve already had one web meeting in full gear at the hotel next to the hill- I needed wifi and a good parking spot…the top was popping that day.

Anyways, this is a tribute to the mountain life I signed up for 3 years ago, and evidence that sunrise starts in the frigid cold and late nights at the office are totally worth it. Furthermore, Scott and Rick fully support my addiction.

One of the first pow days of the season, Scott said to me about half hour into riding together, “I need to take a call soon, are you coming in at 10?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in by then,” I responded.

“It’s pretty good out here, you just should keep riding. I’ll see you later on,” Scott told me.

Why yes, that’s exactly what you want to hear from your boss on a powder day.

Another comment Scott had for me around day 10 was, “So are you going to hit 30 days before December?”

Snapchatting my friends, I yelled to Scott, “What time is it?” He yelled back, “IT’S OFFICE TIME!” before sending Wipeout 1 in front of me in early November.

Knowing my employer supports an achievement such as packing a month of shred in before December 1st is a good feeling…I’ll sure as hell be trying for a month of riding under my belt by December 1st.  

To everyone living in the mountains, I toast my insulated mug filled up with coffee—keep doing what we’re doing.  After all, I’ve had a smile on my face since it started snowing on November 1st. 

To those of you considering living in the mountains, I still toast my coffee to you guys—you can do it too, it’s totally worth it. It’s a beautiful balance when you can get yourself into a solid rhythm of work and play.

Day 17, temps are up from the 10 degrees it was yesterday, and it’s a perfect opportunity to lounge on my snowboard and drink coffee at 7:30 this morning while waiting for a buddy to lace up.

One last note—to everyone who’s gotten early season dumps (which is pretty close to most ski towns at this point I think,) keep in mind that it’s still November. Pace yourselves, we still have a solid 6+ months of snow to play on and it’s only getting better!

[mountainlabblog]

Mountain Town Opener

Looking out towards the backside of Mammoth from a popular early season spot. Photo/Alex Garcia/November 3, 2015

Sunday night was the first snow of the seasons here in Mammoth. It’s a special day in a mountain town when the snow finally sticks down in town, as much of our audience probably knows. Weather reports from Whistler to the Northwest to California to Jackson to Loveland all spell out stoke in the form of November dumps—some bigger than others—notably that Mt. Rainier forecast, you know, the one that noted a potential 13+ feet…

We spend all summer long looking around at dirt and rock features, daydreaming along the highway wondering how much and how low the snow will come this season. This is especially true for the drought generation of the Sierra and Northwest, those of who moved in after the epic winter of 10-11 and have been patiently waiting for normalcy…for three to four long and warm years.

Enter Fall.

Most all of us wait the entire Fall for signs of an early season system coming through and delivering a surprise. We have hopes of cleaning off the cobwebs from gear and stretching our shredding muscles out for the first time in months. We partake in sometimes humorous rituals like leaving the firewood out, washing the car, or not buying boots until the last minute, all with the intent of taunting Mother Nature into catching us with our pants down. If it snows and life becomes hard for a few days or even weeks, it’s an incredible success. Some even look to the critters and how the pinecones appear, but it all comes down to the shared enthusiasm of winter, spending time with good friends inside and out, and starting on that list of goals that were outlined last July (or in my case, last, last, last July.)

November 1.

Smiles all around town. You literally couldn’t find a single person who wasn’t happy about the early arrival of winter. As quickly as the scenery and landscape changed, so did everyone’s attitude—from the 9-5ers, to the seasonal mountain employees, to the dedicatedly unemployed and poor—troubles are traded with stoke, problems with powder and a sort of Zen takes hold for the foreseeable future.

As I sit in the office writing this, the snow showers continue for the third day in a row outside of my window. I have half-a-dozen friends from Tahoe to San Diego who have already reserved couch space for opening weekend, and a healthy balance of work, snowboarding and splitboarding already starting to materialize.

It’s on. See you all on the hill. Or on other hills, or on the road, or at the shows. It doesn’t matter. This smile and excitement is here to stay for the next 6 months, minimum, and I’m bringing everyone I know and run into, with me.

[mountainlabblog]

Exposure Part 2: Choosing your team

The Lucas Debari in Antarctica with Xavier De Le Rue for the duo's Mission Antarctic is a very different Lucas from the rookie that took home his first Transworld title. Image/Transworld Snowboarding/Mission Antarctic

Full disclosure, I worked for The North Face from 2008 – 2012 and during that time served on the Expedition Council. This allowed me unique insight into the programs, but I am in no way still associated or employed by the brand.  Scott

When we lead, much of our responsibility is in providing guidance and direction. It’s the classic role of a parent, mentor or coach. In business, much like life, who is on your team not only dictates your capabilities as an organization, but also influences how the group dynamic, the overall attitude and the structure of growth and development of the individuals unfolds. An interesting case study is the athlete team at The North Face.

Now the Big Red Square (as I am fond of calling it) has earned some of its stripes as a corporate giant. While not quite up there with Coca-Cola and Apple, the brand is global, ubiquitous and well recognized. It’s been a darling of Wall Street and occasionally reviled by naysayers. Yet one area that has stood the test of time and public opinion is the athlete team. Sure, its easy to say that TNF has a big budget and can afford to pay for lots of amazing athletes, but I think it’s worth taking a deeper look at the group, how people enter the team and more importantly why they are chosen and stay. There are some good lessons in leadership and management to be gleaned from this process.

As good backstory, pause from this post and go watch “The Denali Experiment” from 2011. In particular, watch for Lucas Debari.

Welcome back.

Now, I mentioned that I worked at TNF, but it’s worth noting that outside of a couple passing interactions, I don’t know Lucas or have any connection to him. In the video, we see a young guy getting his first big mountain experience, often in the form of a serious ass kicking. Now pause again and watch this recent post of Lucas in Greenland, just three years after Denali.

See a difference?

In 2008, Lucas had won Transworld Snowboarding’s Rookie of the Year. Now if you really want to go back in time, watch Lucas’s part in “These Days”, arguably the video that put him on the map. In my opinion, while incredible riding, there is little in there that shows what Lucas has become. So the question is, how does a ripping Mt Baker grom that can barely hike a peak end up on the most iconic athlete team of all time and a few short years later have several expeditions under his belt that showcase a prowess and skill set that usually takes decades to achieve?

This is the magic and lesson of The North Face process.

I watched amazing, top of their game athletes get passed over because their attitude was not a match. Often it was an ego or a sense of pride that was an undoing. Sometimes it was the rest of the team just feeling like there was no way that they’d want to share a tent with that person for weeks on end. Go check out the recent posts from Renan Osturk on climbing in Myanmar if you want to see how important your team camaraderie is when suffering miserably. Often, that tent mate is not just another face in the picture, but the one that keeps you sane and motivated when all you want to do is collapse and give up.

The other aspect is the ability to see potential. Now that word, potential, comes with all the burden of your muttering high school guidance counselor. “Live up to your potential”, yet this is exactly what makes the selection process important. When that person, that teammate is chosen, are they going to thrive under duress; will they seek challenges, strive to be better and inspire others around them, or are they going to chase the limelight and self-aggrandize? As a brand that relies on marketing, there is a certain short-term appeal to someone good at attracting attention. It’s not too dissimilar from the sales person that can deliver the quarterly number, damn the culture and the ethos of the company. What I found unique and inspiring in the TNF process is that the team was selected not on short-term gains of fame, but on how they would be as a contributor to a greater program and they themselves be willing to grow and stretch in the process, maybe for decades.

Think about your business and reflect on the jobs you need to fill. Are you focused on who can deliver tomorrow, or who is willing to do the work for your budgeted hourly wage, or are you thinking about how any person you hire will add value to the company, to your own growth as a manager and how they as a part of the team will evolve over long periods? Are you willing to invest in potential and take the time to do the due diligence and invest in mentoring, or are you trying to put an ass in a chair and check a box that the space is filled? If you are doing the latter, expect high turn over and poor long-term results. However if the former is your modus operandi, you will build a loyalty and a bench strength that is unbeatable.

It’s one of the telling aspects of the TNF team that while roles change, there is remarkably low turnover within the team.  Look to Jim Zellers, icon of the early days of snowboarding. He is not likely to show up in mainstream snow films these days, but he maintains a critical role of mentor, advocate spiritual pulse of what it means to be on the TNF team, while still getting in expeditions here and there as well as dragging R&D teams out on sandbagging trips,  I mean, experiences. And in the sponsorship world where you are only as good as your PR value, TNF has athletes (several in fact) that have been involved and dedicated for decades that have left the peak of the limelight, but remain a critical part of the brand as they evolve as athletes.

While careful selection is the first step, and mentoring and building is the second, a third key element is exposure. Take that shy person and help them become an articulate voice for their sport. Read the recent Op Ed piece in The New York Times from Alex Honnold in response to his (and other iconic figures) dismissal from the Clif Bar team as a great example. Long before Alex became a household name and was on 60 Minutes for his exploits, he had to present to TNF all-company meetings and write blog posts about obscure trips read by a few dedicated followers. Alex’s talents are his and his alone, but how this capacity for engaging the public is cultivated, supported, nurtured, expanded become the responsibility of the team, his peers and the managers alike. When choosing that team, everyone must know that they have a time to educate and give, a time to learn and take. Only then will all parties rise together.  Everyone has to be willing to be exposed to new experiences as well as shepherd others through their own trials.

Finally, engage the collective voice. As hiring manager, you may need to justify the budget spend and ROI on the investment in new people, but the rest of your team needs to feel good about their peers. Of course The North Face management team plays an essential part in choosing new athletes, but there is a remarkable amount of influence from those already on the team, and not just a few senior voices. While a marketing manager needs to have good content, they don’t have to spend weeks on end listening to this person snore next to them in a small tent while eating the same miserable 900 calories because you have been stuck out longer than expected and are rationing food. If you have started with a strong team chosen for the right reasons, trust that they will help you make the best selections and point out blind spots you may have missed. If you have made a wrong choice, everyone will know it. Correct it quickly before they become toxic.

Remember these lessons when choosing your own team:

1. Choose those that you want to suffer with because of their capacity to be a good support person, not those who you think will illuminate you while they stand in the spotlight. Anyone can high-five you on a summit, but it takes a special person to inspire you when the objective is elusive.

2. Hire for what someone could be, and not what they are today. Chose for a decade and not the moment, and you will be rewarded.

3. Understand that like any relationship, it takes work to be on a team. Some experiences come to you that make you grow, but as a manager, it is also your obligation to create those experiences that stretch your team’s comfort zone.

4. Listen to your team when adding new members. Actively seek their counsel. And if you end up with a bad seed, don’t delay in correcting. Slow to hire, fast to fire.

[mountainlabblog]

Scott's Boomer Rant

An image from Guthook Hikes, a gear review blog, was captioned, "What a bunch of nerds we are with our puffy jackets, all the same brand." The traditional outdoor crowd knows what it wants; the next generation...not so much.

Let’s say you are a creature of habit.

 You walk up and down the same street in the town you grew up in. You eat in the same restaurants; even eat the same meals as you have for years. You want something new, something fresh and healthy, but you see the same stuff over and over again because of where you go. Your friends tell you to forget about it, look at Stan, he lived to be 95 eating this stuff.

 Welcome to the Outdoor Industry.

 We, the collective industry, have been bemoaning our lack of youth engagement and our lack of diversity, or loss of the urban consumer, for as long as I can remember. We conduct studies, review market opportunities, have hundreds of executive leaders engage in half day brain storming sessions with some of the highest paid consultants in the world so we can tell each other the same narrative over and over again. And yet, we sit at the same table and dine on the same meal time and time again.

 A couple of months back, I attended the Outdoor Industry Associations annual Rendezvous event. It’s always at a pretty nice place, like this year in Asheville’s Grove Park Inn. Some years are better than others for seminars and speakers, but the connections and camaraderie building are one of the key draws.  I had a random hallway conversation with Wes Allen, President of Grassroots Outdoor Alliance, which was a highlight of my trip.

 As is the norm, we once again sat in on sessions about the future of the industry.  While the industry has seen a much-needed influx of gender and race diversity, it is still as vastly over-forty white male crowd of ex-ski and climbing bums that gave up van life for an office (ie, me).

 Next year I hear James Balog is going to set up his cameras to document that there is something that moves slower than the glaciers he normally photographs.

 For the love of god, can we move a couple of streets over instead of plodding down our same route? While the industry keeps asking the questions of “what do we do” while doing nothing, brands like Alite and Poler, retailers like Huckberry and Without Walls and events like Hipcamp  and Mappy Hours are creating the future that the industry claims it is seeking. They are finding new consumers, new ways to engage and recognizing that the model the outdoor industry is built upon is not only antiquated, but nothing like what the future holds for the next several generations.

 The marketing of the outdoors has often been focused on the aspirational imagery of folks doing high-risk adventure activities. But the draw for most folks under 30 or coming from dense urban center is not to wear a logo that says “I aspire to be like those folks,” but instead they want actual experiences; tangible, real things they can do this weekend that are fun, story worthy and memorable.  Experiences are the future value. Don’t believe me? Ask the music industry how selling an item vs. an experience is going for them. Hint, festivals are where it’s at these days.

 I will be the first to admit that the world of haberdashery, of big beards and bow ties, is little more than a fashion trend. It will change and pass, but what inspired that trend, in my highly opinionated view, is a fundamental desire of the most digitally engaged generation to get back to basic fundamentals of human connection.

The campfire story.

So before you write off the latest in $300 custom axes as ridiculous, or that it is all done for a Tumblr image, think about what is behind it, why is this resonating with the audience and how do we as an industry connect with that emotion and need.

No disrespect to Marshal Cohen from NPD, but when the audience cheered at the end of his OIA Rendezvous presentation while pointing out that we have at least another 12 years of Boomer driven consumer power dominating the landscape (“Don’t write off us Boomers, we aren’t dead yet!”), he basically reinforced the attitude that the Outdoor Industry doesn’t have to do a damn thing.

 It’s like the hunter gloating over how full his freezer is while all the animals and food for next winter die off or move elsewhere. When that freezer runs dries, then what?

 If the industry doesn’t do a damn thing, yes, we will still keep selling the same fleece quarter zips, the same plaid technical shirt and the same 30-liter nylon backpacks (with hydration port of course) to the Boomers who have another 12 years of spending a shit-ton of the money that the next three generations behind them don’t have.  Do nothing but sit back and milk that cow for as long as possible.

 But when that runs dry, and it will, remember the adage from Peter Sheahan, CEO at Change Labs. “Change is slow, until it’s not”. At the pace this industry has moved, 12 years is a break neck pace to get this figured out.  Either that or we’ll watch an entire new school of brands, retailers and consumers go play in their own sandbox and take with them those buying dollars we hope fills our coffers when the Boomers are gone.

 My generation, my experience, does not matter. Because even though I’m in my early 40’s and it seems like it was just yesterday that I was discovering a love of outdoors, how I got here is not the same way my staff, my kids or even several of my peers are going to engage going forward.  The sooner we recognize (and accept) this, the sooner we can help shepherd in the next wave of outdoor leadership, on their terms.

 Stepping off the soap box……Scott

[mountainlabblog]

OR Show Wrap Up

Like a small community park, the benches and trees were the centerpieces in which each brand was positioned around.  Park benches were shared between different meetings and friends were made. Photo/Alex Garcia

The summer OR show is all wrapped up and while hall-cruising time was pretty limited for me due to the Venture Out space, part of me didn’t really want to leave the area all that often in the first place. 

The vibe was a little bit different back there in Pavilion 2 and you could definitely sense it, either by the way the 16 brands who we selected to take part in this new area interacted with each other or how the different, more established brands talked about the space as they entered and left.  I may have looked like the standard booth monkey who was in charge of set up, break down, smiling, saying hello and passing out flyers for our guest speakers and happy hours—and maybe I was to an extent—but I made it a point to be especially observant on multiple levels.  This space was a trial run in a sense and I wanted to know why it was either successful or a failure in real time.

First off, I mentioned the vibe as being different from the rest of the show, let me explain what I mean by that:  We built a space that 16 hand-picked brands would be living in for 3 days, and not unlike some ridiculous reality show, everyone was introduced to everyone else in a chaotic panic of “this isn’t a 10x10!” within the first hour of showing up on Day One. The spaces accurately reflected a defined square footage; however they weren’t boxes like every other space in the show.  It was stressful at first because the brands went into home-improvement mode and right away started modifying the spaces we tried so hard to prefect.  The drills came out, tables wandered, electrical was moved, spaces were added on to and subtracted from, and everyone played a never-ending game of musical pallets (pallets made up the booth floor space). 

By the time the doors opened on Day One I had a solid feel for everyone in the space purely judging on how they dealt with the adversity of an irregular booth space, and do you know what I found?  Creativity prevailed!  Each space, while they started with similar elements, ended up looking nothing alike—and that was a good thing. 

That morning was a slow trickle of interest from the Pavilion crowd and a few from the main hall.  By the early afternoon, traffic started to pick up and once Jeanie Pesce, founder of RANGE magazine started to present, I was looking at a packed house.  Happy hour followed and after that RANGE’s release party was well underway.  Security had to shuffle close to 100 people out at 7:30 p.m.

The morning of Day Two looked like the afternoon of Day One and I think a lot of our brands were pleasantly surprised that they would need to work their asses off first thing in the morning.

The crowds never died down and while traffic would dip into the occasional lull, it never stayed that way. Even at 2 p.m. on Day Four, business was still well underway at almost every brand’s booth.

I have a feeling that once our initial event, happy hour and presentation drew in a few of the main hall folks, they went back to their home bases and most likely had something positive to say about the new space and word must’ve spread judging by the turnout at 9 a.m. on Day Two.

I mentioned earlier that I was up front taking note of the various reactions.  The accounts of those who were pleasantly surprised with the space, reactions of wanting to be in the space for winter or next summer and general excitement about something different far outweighed the very, very occasional scoff at how “different” these brands were from traditional OR standards.

I made a comment to Scott sometime on Day Two that this space reminded me of the first time I walked through SIA from alpine land into snowboard land- the imaginary line I crossed into the loudness and bustling of something different. Granted, I was making this comparison to the rest of the pavilion Venture Out sat adjacent to, but it still felt very different from even the main hall. 

The shared community space created a little bond between everyone in the area; something that I think is missing from the rest of the show and ended up working really well in terms of attracting people and fostering a connection and friendship between the brands involved.

Given the feedback, generally everyone who was involved wanted to be involved again.  I’m hoping to see this space really mature and grow, not so that it will take over outdoor, but so that traditional outdoor will take the brands under its wing and really embrace the creativity, design, brand stories and the genuine attempt to get a different, more urban and perhaps a less hardcore crowd outside to enjoy our marvelous outdoors.

This is what it looked like for the majority of the show, with spikes in attendance during happy hours and presentations. Seemed like these brands represented a bit more than "what's trendy" at the time. Photo/Alex Garcia

This is Alex's second OR. Unlike Scott's 20+ years of shows, back to when Teva was cool the first time, Alex is looking at the entire atmosphere with fresh eyes and as the target consumer that seems to elude so many traditional brands despite desperate marketing attempts to connect with the new generation of outdoors enthusiasts.

[mountainlabblog]

The Route Less Traveled

Stay off the snow! Above, the pass can be observed with a careful eye. Photo/Alex Garcia  

A couple friends and I went into the backcountry with our huskies last week. Standard 2-day backpacking trip, except the way we routed the trip was more based on landmarks and geography than actual trails.

In fact, we didn’t see a trail or even a single person until halfway through the second day.

That’s how I like it.

Referred to as cross-country, we simply looked at our topo, talked to a few wise men (er, one wise-woman) and sent it through terrain that people usually don’t hike through. We scrambled over boulders, through icy glacial ponds, springtime marshes and an unnamed rocky high mountain pass situated at 11,500 ft.

Unnamed, it just barely existed on the map as topographic lines that “looked” doable.

It was a beautiful experience and required more than staring at our feet, as we would have, had we simply followed one of the many trails out here in the Eastern Sierra. We literally solved problems the entire first day and a half; there is no laziness or brainless walking, just a constant awareness with regard to our surroundings of where we were.

The group often stopped, asked each other which way we should go, studied the map, made well informed decisions together and took in the vastness of not just the backcountry, but of the wilderness in which we were guests to.

We ate trout, the dogs almost caught a beaver and the mosquitos ate us. 

We even discovered a fabled plane wreck.

When you head into the wilderness with loose plans and good common sense, it makes for a much better adventure and you will, in absolutely no time at all, find yourself in a bizarre high country wonderland. Take the route less traveled—hell take the road never traveled—just don’t forget your brain, your map and several audibles in case the original plan changes. 

[mountainlabblog]

Exposure: Part 1

The group starts the day's adventures with yoga. Photo/Scott McGuire 

From Webster’s:

 ex·po·sure noun \ik-ˈspō-zhər\

: the fact or condition of being affected by something or experiencing something : the condition of being exposed to something

: the act of revealing secrets about someone or something

: public attention and notice

Three decades ago I had been on YMCA camping trips, I fished with my dad and slept in a tent, but “Outdoors” was still an unfamiliar concept. I played outside, but the spirit of the outdoors was not yet in my blood. I was not an easy child; opinionated, rebellious, unruly and self-determined. Somewhere along the way it was decided I should go on a long backpacking trip with similar kids, experience the real outdoors and hope it would have some impact on my attitude. And it did, it certainly did.

I did not return much different, per se. I was still rebellious, but I had a new confidence in myself. I had slept on the ground under starlight, navigated several miles solo and stood atop several Fourteeners. I had eaten my share of oatmeal seasoned with mosquitos and when I returned home, I commented that my first shower in two weeks removed the best tan I ever had. And I was in love with the Outdoors.

Recently, I joined a similar trip of young men and women being exposed to the wilderness for the first time. Unlike my modest, middle-class, stable upbringing, these teens have truly endured some challenges. One commitment of the group was that what is said in confidence stays in confidence, and as such none of the details will be shared. Yet know that many of these high school students have been through more than most adults I know and have lived through horrors, tragedies, setbacks and hard times too dark to imagine. They share with honesty, watch each other’s eyes during evening council and shed tears of sympathy, solidarity and gratitude that they are not alone in their pain.

The day begins at 7:30am. Despite the nearing summer solstice, the air is crisp at 10,000 feet. Campers shuffle to the first spot of sun to reach the meadow and start their day with yoga. As their teacher leads them through poses, some move with experience and others struggle through the stiffness of the previous days adventures. A hearty breakfast cooked in the old camp cabin and eaten al fresco on picnic tables, I catch kids stopping their consumption and gazing at 14,032’ Mt Langley in the distance.  What likely seemed an impossible climb when they arrived here now seems an alluring goal.

We divide into three groups, each with a different purpose. One team will make a short journey to a spot suitable for a day of yoga, stretching, meditation and journal writing. Another will climb above the valley floor, seeking the open space above tree line and travel in pursuit of a stubborn mule that broke free of its pen the night before. The third will venture to a nearby lake; the day’s conversation focused on sex and drugs. While these youth are far more aware than I was at their age, they are also prone to misinformation and full understanding of the impact of their lacking knowledge. I opt to go with the naturalist walk in pursuit of Indigo the mule.

It is a mild day, but the altitude and thin air raise heart rates. As we climb, one young man, noticeably quiet the evening before, seems jubilant as he runs ahead and captures images on his SLR. I think perhaps I misjudged his solemn nature the night before, but as the temps rise, he roles up his sleeves, exposing scar marks from a gang initiation cutting and burn scars that appear to be from cigarettes. He catches me staring, looks down at his battle wounds, stares me back in the eye and shrugs, then smiles and bounds up trail. Each one of these young adults is carrying far more than water, a snack and an extra layer.

On the ridge, high thread clouds punctuate a perfectly blue Sierra sky. As Nick, the naturalist explains the geology of the area and the presence of Foxtail Pine vs. Ancient Bristlecone, a Clarks Nutcracker sounds its call and startles the group. Silhouetted against the skyline stands Indigo, her black coat a spec in the grey rock and alpine blue sky. While Nick and Lindsey, the mule’s owner try and bring her back, the rest of the group heads to an outlook point staring down to the Owen’s Valley. The green pastures around Lone Pine, the dry, once magnificent Owens Lake, now drained by LA, and the rolling Alabama Hills, a site of many a John Wayne film fill the view. It is breathtaking.

I am asked about the area, where I live and what it is like here. I try to capture the sense of space, the sparse population and exposure to wilderness. Analogies and descriptions seem to resonate, but I question whether my words have the meaning I desire.  A voice of one of the more city-hardened girls that opted to sleep on a cot under the stars the night before asks “Do you appreciate it, where you live?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“You should, because this is magnificent.”

As we descend off trail and find a brief rest in a spring fed meadow, several lie down and fall fast asleep, others sit quietly staring at the surrounding and the rest write in their journals. No one speaks, and in the absence of voice, the words of nature, bird song and wind in the branches fills the void. When all wake and the walk continues, we spy Three Sierra Bighorn peering down on our group.  Balancing precariously on a rock escarpment, these enduring beasts stay long enough to convey some sense of trust or bond expressed through soft, dark eyes. Then as quickly as they arrived, they disappear back into their rocky world, out of sight and without a sound.

It is dusk when I make my way back to where “civilization” begins. I leave behind the camp and the group, as they have another several days in the wild. It was a short trip, but one that fills my thoughts as I wander down trail and over creek crossings. I've hiked many a mile in the Sierra, but this walk comes with new perspective, new found appreciation and gratitude for the lesson and exposure one finds where the pavement ends.  

[mountainlabblog]

500 cc's from Topaz to Mammoth

From some of the mountaintops our views stretched for almost a hundred miles.  On top of Potato Peak (not pictured) we were able to identify Bloody Mountain nearly 80 miles in the distance.  In the image above, we crossed streams, mud pits, snow, a mess of slush and even a dead lake in an attempt to summit the lesser known Mt. Patterson of the Sweetwater Range north of Bridgeport in search of a stone hut. Photo/Alex Garcia 

This past month I undertook a 210-mile dirtbike trek and it did something to me.  I’m not taking about some kind of injury or the extreme fatigue my buddy Paz and I most definitely underwent, but something clicked in my head after finishing up that journey.  Upon arrival back in Mammoth, the instantaneous response is that of relief.  The following days were accompanied by some aches, bruises, blisters and general pain, but I was pleased to find they were only minor in comparison to the discomfort I had mentally prepared myself for.

“Hmm…Turns out that wasn’t so bad,” I said to myself.  Three days of abuse-by-bike apparently allows for a little bit of adaptation.

Paz, on the other hand, told me upon arrival that, “this was the gnarliest thing he had ever done.” That sentiment, though it didn’t resonate as much with me, made sense nonetheless.  The 500 cc’s I’m referring to in the title is not the engine displacement of my bike, rather the combined engine displacement of both of our bikes—my XR 400 and his XR 100.  You can imagine who had it harder…  

I immediately wanted to go on another quest.  Longer, less planned, more unknowns, objectives!  You know, just all around more adventurous.  I had been backpacking and camping and all of that in the past, but it didn’t have the same effect on me as covering such distances on a motorized vehicle did.  I have a Jeep Cherokee, a dirtbike,  a backpack and an adolescent husky … I can go pretty much anywhere I want if I do it right.

210 miles felt long, especially after our last day, in which we covered about a hundred miles through some pretty nasty terrain.  Maybe we ought to have camped somewhere along the way, and gone another 70 the following day?  We could have just kept going and going!  I guess it comes down to pace at that point; who’s to say a 400-mile trip is out of the question? An 800-mile trip?  Imagine what you can see in those distances!  The exploration!  I’m getting excited just thinking about it.

I’d definitely hone in my gear if I were going to send a week-long trip. Paz and I were using bungees and tie-downs to strap our gear to the rear fenders to our bikes, constantly rearranging and iterating new fastening strategy, but that’s a whole other rant…

Anyways, what I’m getting at is, I wouldn’t have known where I stood adventure-wise had I not just jumped off and sent that 210 miles on bike.  I know now, that I want more.  No, I need more.  When we send it next time, it better be in a different geological realm and at least 200 miles, or I won’t be satisfied.  In a way, I’ve set this imaginary bar for adventure, and having struggled through sand, snow rock and mud, rebuilding a carburetor on the side of the highway, getting lost and plenty of supply issues, I expect no less chaos from my next adventure—hell maybe I’ll plan that into the next trip as some sort of obstacle.  It’s definitely more fun when you don’t know what lies ahead though…

So now I sit here on my laptop, google earth open and several dozens of Forest Service topographic maps lying open on my pool table, trying to figure out my next escape from reality—trying to decide what logistical constraints I’d like to build into the next trip and wondering who’s insane and/or naive enough to say, “Sure, I’ll go with you.  Where are we going again?”

[mountainlabblog]

Larrainzar, Chiapas, Mexico

"Scott McGuire confers with Dr Marty Kim (in reflection) in search of the elusive Wheatlander, something he had never heard of before this trip. Something learned" Photo/Sara B May Photography

Testing. Pushing limits. Finding what holds, what breaks. What can be improved and what should be discarded. 

Many years back, I was told that one should try to learn something new every year. It is good to be a student, not just for the perspective, but to stir the grey matter and tease the neurons that retain knowledge. It is a difficult challenge as routine is simple and the ego, at least my ego, is not particularly fond of failing or being the neophyte. Yet to grow, one must embrace the difficulties of feeling the edge of comfort, like a child riding their bike just slightly farther from home each day, their world expanding with each new block.

 I have fanaticized about a do-over, a change in career towards medicine for many, many years. I like the observational requirements, the science, social skills, the human contact and the capacity to do work for good, tangible good that directly benefits another. It has led me to be a volunteer firefighter and EMT and most recently as an adviser and member of Mammoth Medical Missions. As a non-secular, non-profit, the purpose of MMM is a three-legged stool of delivering care. Provide training in Mass Casualty and Disaster Response, practice austere medicine skills by conducting planned missions to remote communities in the developing world where resources are constrained or absent and finally, rapidly respond to disasters where the training and practice are put to the real test.

 In the outdoor world, expeditions are often organized with highly aligned parties that have known each other for years. It’s unlikely that a Conrad Anker is going to head off to the Himalayas with a partner that has never been in a tent, or take on an objective that may require rock climbing or kayaking, but you don’t know until you arrive. Yet this is the very nature of a medical mission. Some staff might be highly proficient in an OR, yet have no experience in camping. Others may be well versed in “roughing it” but have limited knowledge of the surgical theater, the instruments, and the scope of practice.

 Our team of 20 arrived in Larrainzar, heart of Zapatista territory, under night skies, storm clouds and after a long day of travel. Camp was established on a concrete pad in front of a clinic, grass a novelty and the village remote enough to make camping the best logistical option. MMM prides itself on attracting volunteers that embrace these challenges. At dawn, the team rises early to prep for triage, with the understanding that hundreds of patients, some from communities’ hours away in the forest, have come for our services. It is past midnight when day one is complete and the scope of the week is laid out.

 We will conduct 10-18 surgeries a day for the next several days. An autoclave (sterilization device) that operates far slower than anticipated forces alternative solutions. The team will need to MacGyver parts to repair a Bovie Cautery device, repair a 2nd autoclave without a manual and comes up with alternative surgical instruments when simple connections for air tools are not compatible with local fittings. Supplies will fill back hallways, blood will be scrubbed from instruments to prep for sterilization, and meals will be missed. In short, a team of many, some complete strangers, will function on little sleep doing stressful work in a foreign environment and come away feeling delighted, bonded and inspired.

 The smell of Café de Olla, prepared before dawn by our local cook Yolanda, is a warm reprieve from a cold shower and the damp, misting morning. The sun is still lurking behind dense cloud cover.  When the rain comes, and in this season it will certainly pour, the sweet smells of pine and mountain air return. It is easy to forget in the humid, semi tropic scene that we are at 7200’ above sea level. The smell of burning trash and decaying matter are temporarily held at bay. 

 Sipping the brew and watching Yolanda smile as I cradle my cup and inhale the smells of cinnamon and clove, I reflect on the trip.  For me, it is not the grandiose nature of the experience that strikes a chord, but the moments in the halls with patients. It is the smile from a mother waiting for her child to climb out of an anesthetic stupor or a patient’s nervous eyes then humble blessing of gratitude as they wait hours for their turn on the table.  These are the memories I will carry with me forever.

 In the days after the trip, when a hot shower, tourist activities and plane flights remove the reality of Larrainzar from the forefront of the mind, what remains is the sense that with little, much can be done where sheer will, camaraderie and compassion become more important than the obstacles in the way. As a Board, we have met and held meetings on post event recaps, next steps and future missions. It is an exciting time. New designs for gear bags, ideations on process, procedure and supplies show that there is much to improve and much that may carry benefit to our own first world lives. What it reinforces for me is what I have seen time and time again in the development of gear.

 There is simply nothing that delivers solutions, inspires creativity and conveys meaning like a personal experience.

 It did rain. It rained hard and flooded the ground. Our tents did fantastic; as did much of the gear we carried. And yet in conversations with my fellow travelers, time and again a question was posed “why aren’t tents designed this way ” or “could this be done to improve the pack”. I’ve spent two decades looking at gear and how to improve the product and some of the best ideas I have heard come from neophyte campers on a medical mission while sleeping on a concrete porch.

 There is always something to learn, and often delivered in a format that you least expect. 

[mountainlabblog]

Looking Forward = "Active Authenticity"

Looking forward, by looking backward!  What does this mean? While there are myriad examples of companies with burgeoning bottomlines, the key to long term success is to have a clear view in the rearview mirror. I remember a famous line from a “Gumball Rally” movie of the 70’s – “What’s a behind, no matter” as the Italian race car driver tore the rearview mirror off the dash. While this may be true in racing, it is not in business. Having a keen view of where you came from and the reasons why consumers first engaged with your product is absolutely crucial to future success. Having that DNA in front of mind while bringing new products to a wanting consumer base sets a company up for long term success.

Innovation is absolutely crucial to future success, but innovation simply for innovation sake may not be the best approach. It is imperative that brands firmly grasp their heritage and actively maintain their DNA, or actively steer clear if need be, but the key is to be pro-active.  Be active and be authentic!

BMW Motorrad (their motorcycle division) had long been known for making superior touring motorcycles and their appeal leaned towards "building bikes for old guys". The choice to actively pursue a new customer and dedicate the vast majority of their massive engineering capabilities to one significant project was courageous and inspired. BMW had been relatively stagnant and simply selling a new bike to their existing consumers. Admittedly, they were selling tons of those, but they realized they were struggling to reach a brand new customer base and also to extend more broadly into the ripe US market. This decision process coincided with the worldwide economic downturn and the resulting pull back on resource allocations by the vast majority of BMW's competition, particularly the Japanese, who owned the sportbike segment. The brain trust in Munich faced a difficult decision - do they simply rest on their laurels (selling 50,000 1200 GS's a year and 25,000 other road touring bikes a year) or do they look to the future? It was time to do something proactive! But how to stay true to their superior engineering roots and be authentic to their brand as well as create a masterpiece of speed and style - two things their automobile side has been known for. BMW took up this challenge with typical German determination and thought and the genesis of the first BMW sportbike took hold. In creating the S1000RR, they not only created a technologically superior product, but did so in a way to alter the demographics of visitors to their showrooms.  These new visitors were then exposed to all the existing products and in turn sales have been on fire in recent years, with 2012 sales surpassing 100,000 new bikes and exceeding all prior sales records. This could not have happened without a firm understanding of their past and present and an active willingness to look forward. When I went to work in-house at Osprey, I was excited to go work for a brand that was willing to make a similar decision. Throughout all of Osprey's early life it had been known for making superior big packs and had just decided to completely overhaul their top selling series. Decisions like that are not typically done, as the risk of alienating a passionate and loyal consumer base often overrides the desire to push new technologies. By undertaking that risk and committing fully to really making the best functioning and load carrying big pack, Osprey brought new innovation to the market, with custom moldable hipbelts and lighter and more streamlined designs. These new packs were a huge success and helped create the stranglehold that Osprey now has on that segment of packs. What it told me however was this was a company that was not going to rest on its laurels and was looking forward, actively. And similar to the BMW example, Osprey also faced a similar dilemma- how to expand its sales and reach new customers while maintaining its brand DNA, authenticity and consumer loyalty? By introducing more modern materials, cutting edge technology and clean design on the big pack program, Osprey strategically set itself up to follow that blueprint into new segments, and introduced a luggage line and new lighter weight, activity focused products that brought new customers to the fold and has seen sales grow by more than 10 fold in half a dozen years. Another great example of inspired product decisions that fit into brand DNA while pushing new territory is Icebreaker. While they were an early proponent of Merino wool long underwear, they realized that "next to skin moisture management" was a very crowded product space, with wools and synthetics from MANY manufacturers. By maintaining their material story, which is really the heritage of the brand, and branching out into new product categories, Icebreaker managed to become a full apparel supplier and never lose sight of their faithful consumer base and brand identity. Apple is another great example of a company that has recently expanded into new product categories (phones, tablets) by maintaining their brand DNA while also taking bold product extensions to a new level. Remember the old Sony Walkman? Apple took the concept and made it better, with the first generation iPod. On the other hand, take a quick look at a few companies who failed to maintain innovation or just simply rested on their laurels and has watched their business erode to the point of no longer being relevant - the above mentioned Sony, Kodak (they built Rochester, NY and are now defunct), any Detroit auto company not named Ford, Eddie Bauer and Suzuki to name a few. These examples show that, while sales growth can be maintained, but for a significant spike to occur and future success, bold decisions need to be made about product direction and innovation must lead the way.  It must be actively pursued in a manner that is true to the brand, does not repel the loyal followers and draws new consumers to the fold. As anybody who knows me has heard, I am huge fan of how BMW manages their brand image and product launches to enhance it in a systematic approach that not only continues to push technology and innovation at the higher end and then filters throughout their lineup of cars and motorcycles, but because of their thoughtful approach, they not only engender mass loyalty but also significant anticipation for what is next. They are "actively authentic" and always looking forward, and as a result have some of the most innovative products that continue to push sales to higher and higher levels. Ducati is another prime example of a brand that has invested heavily in new technology, launching new products that have made them one of the most dynamic and innovative brands today. By maintaining their core products with innovative updates and launching unexpected line extensions, they have kept a focus on their long time loyal followers while bringing new consumers to their brand. I saw a quote in one of the motorcycle mags that really highlights this dynamic - "By constantly updating their core superbikes and nakeds, and at the same time ruthlessly increasing market share with new and unexpected models and now this year filling micro-niches, Ducati has successfully transformed itself into the most sophisticated and desirable motorcycles on the market." Ummm, yep!! This dedication to ongoing innovation without losing focus on company heritage is what separates the men from the boys. Boys are always risk takers, but without a true sense of surroundings and implications. Men are wiser, due to experience. That wisdom augments in the approach to product and particularly to enduring brand strategy. Look at the Japanese motorcycle industry - their success was built upon making ridiculously fast motorcycles at approachable price points. Remember in the days when the Euro brands were struggling to survive because their price points were considered stratospheric? They were, and most of the customers were rich enough to pay those prices in cash and those funds were in turn being recycled into R & D, as mentioned earlier, that now bears prolific fruit. In turn, the Japanese focused on continually building faster and faster bikes while maintaining those approachable price points, however for their key target consumers (younger men looking to simply go stupid fast) a loan was still necessary to buy a new bike. I know, that is how I bought my Suzuki. When the credit crunch hit, the Japanese struggled to sell more bikes, therefore had less available profits and had to pull back on R & D. Now, as the economy recovers and consumers are looking to buy again, the Japanese have no new and amazing products to recapture the motorcycle rider’s fancy. It is an age old story, highlighted by venerable US industrial giants now gone dormant and passed by. You must take risks, but they need to be calculated to match a long term strategy. Be a man, not a boy! How to maintain technology, run a profitable business and maintain brand value? That is the question many companies ask and the ones that land on the best ratio are the most successful examples of market leaders. While sales numbers and market trends are paramount, stopping there is traditional, and not the path chosen by the true innovation leaders. Passion is crucial but without strategy, it is just that - passion. By surrounding that passion with an innovation driven strategy of logical product launches you create market leading products that captures the consumer loyalty to drive your brand to new heights! 

[mountainlabblog]

Alex's Divingboard

My name is Alex.  I’m fresh out of school and after working all summer at my college job for enough money to finally live independently, I dragged my girlfriend to Mammoth Lakes to ride. 

Growing up just outside of San Francisco, Lake Tahoe would’ve made more sense, but having gone to school in San Diego for five years, I was formally introduced to this giant playground we know as Mammoth after joining the SDSU Ski and Snowboard Team.  Prior to that, Mammoth to me was just a mystical place that I thought had some sort of assembly line that popped out pros, photos and footage.  Magazines and movies from the late 90’s and 2000’s would solidify this notion with that iconic M slapped on some of the biggest shots.  After visiting almost every other weekend in college, I realized that my assumptions as a kid weren't completely inaccurate. 

Mammoth is bigger; it contains a caliber of park I had never experienced before.  The town is small and the mountains big.  The backcountry out here still has me in awe; I’ve never studied topo maps like this before.  I’ve found peers to ride with that are either sponsored by recognizable names or are already on track to becoming professional with the big names. While just another mountain town, this is a powerful place.

It was after that realization that I figured, if I was going to move to the mountains to snowboard after school, it needed to be here.

The first few months were rough.  I slept on a couch and in a basement.  I had my Jeep broken into by a bear. I taught myself how to replace my own transmission.  I struggled to find my own social scene and all the while I worked at an unpaid internship for the local newspaper, slowly eating through my savings from the summer.

I then saw an ad in the paper for a startup that works in the outdoor realm, and little did I know at the time, this job would propel me into the outdoor industry at full speed.

I didn’t plan on anything like this happening nor did I shoot for an opportunity such as this, but I know I wouldn’t be with a company like The Mountain Lab had I gone the safe route of finding a 9-5 desk job right out of school.  I gambled on my passion and was willing to work any job that came my way so long as I could snowboard and explore the mountains for an entire season. 

I followed what I loved and seized opportunities that would have otherwise not existed.  I’m happy for my decision to become a college-educated, new-age ski bum and I’m going to try to take these posts along my journey of being thrown into the outdoor industry.

This was after my first big boy competition with my husky-malamute puppy.  She's only about four months old at this point.

[mountainlabblog]