Stephan Schier is the Director of Operations for Our US Office

Stephan joined the WhereNext team in 2019 and helped our founder Gregg chart a new course for the future of our storytelling agency. Having first met at the turn of the century, Gregg and Stephan share 20-plus-years of work, friendship, and adventure experiences. Below, Stephan tells tales of formative childhood experiences in the Norwegian wilderness and the story of an unfortunate encounter with a lame swan.

Bio

Stephan's 40-year vocational journey includes such waypoints as hawking mind machines poolside in Vegas, cooking boar and guinea hen at Seattle's storied Hunt Club, and swinging high above Seattle's streets as the owner of a high-rise window-cleaning company. Along the way, he paddled a kayak 1,000 miles into the Canadian Arctic, helped capture two Guinness land-speed records at the Bonneville Salt Flats, and served as an all-purpose fielder for numerous start-ups. Stephan and WhereNext founder Gregg Bleakney first met in the early aughts while working at software company AccessVia. In 2007, they cemented their friendship on a motorcycle as Stephan piloted and Gregg photographed the legendary Paris–Brest–Paris, a 750-mile cycling randonnée through France’s Normandy and Brittany regions. In subsequent years, Stephan co-founded bicycle importer/retailer Dutch Bike Co., in Chicago, then returned to tech as the business development manager at iOS app shop Black Pixel, where he grew sales tenfold. Projects included the first MLB app for iPad, and clients included Apple, Intel, and News Corp. In 2019, Stephan helped Gregg chart a new course for WhereNext's future. As those dreams turned into partnerships with new clients, Stephan joined the WhereNext team.

Tell us about yourself.

I was raised in a German-speaking immigrant family in the New York City suburbs of Bergen County, NJ, and Rockland County, NY. I grew up during the space age, watching Walter Cronkite narrate Gemini and Apollo launches. Schools were brimming with Eisenhower Mathematics and Science Education Programs, as a bulwark against Soviet supremacy. Vietnam War war casualties were the first order of business on the nightly news. Of course, I wanted to be an astronaut.

One-up on Tom Hanks, I’ve been sleepless, and homeless, in Seattle. I studied mathematics, physics, physiology, and kinesiology in college. I was once a candidate for the US Navy nuclear submarine program. I was a half-time, single dad. My now adult daughter, Kate, lives and works in NY for the upstart, remarkably inclusive clothing company, Universal Standard.

I live in Seattle and spend a great deal of time rock climbing and sailing.

Tell us about your most memorable travel experience.

In the spring of my 15th year, Dad was readying to move us from New York to Washington State. His plan: pack his Chevy van and a Wells Cargo trailer to the gills and drive west. Mom and my 12-year-old brother would convoy in our bile-yellow, 1974 Subaru DL wagon. One first-class seat vacancy remained in our windowless, metallic brown, utility van. This 70’s “Grapes of Wrath” meets “Smokey and the Bandit” mashup was sure to be memorable, but obedience to paternal mandates and CB radio banter were not my specialty. I recused myself from co-piloting and was granted asylum in Norway.

My best friend Kenny’s dad was Norwegian, his mom, German. His family spent their summers in Norway. Kenny and I bonded in choir class, over our genius for crafting fart and animal noises. Weak choir marks aside, our friendship merited an A+ and led to an invitation to visit Kenny in Kristiansand that summer. Since Kenny’s family would feed and house me, as would my relatives in Germany, I could stay in Europe as long as I wanted. Dad was practical that way.

Kenny and I were mostly left to our own devices at the family hytte, a typical Norwegian family summer cabin on a fjord. It was stocked with longlines for cod fishing, crab pots, an Evinrude-powered aluminum rowboat, a sailboat, and a toilet/bucket with a bottle of blue stuff to remediate the olfactory insult of pooping in a bucket. The only thing missing was a BB gun, but we had plenty of other implements with which to poke our eyes out. My time there turned into a dream filled with sailing, fishing, and crabbing adventures.

I returned to my German relatives in Bremen, a new boy, maybe even a man, a newly minted man, perhaps? Sporting a tan, the acquisition of which no German believed possible in Norway, I was treated as if I were a triumphant Arctic explorer.

This trip is one of my first “most memorable,” significant because it came at the cusp of adulthood. It was a glimpse into abundance and independence. It set the bar for all adventures to follow.

Dead or alive, who would you like to join you on an adventure?

Adventures with my dearest friends lead to shared stories; shared stories become the glue that build our social fabric, and our social structure is what keeps us well. Ultimately, it is what keeps us alive.

What are your travel equipment essentials?

The least gear, which will allow me the most comfort and freedom to adventure or explore. This may be a pair of climbing shoes and harness, a fresh pair of running shoes, lightweight rain gear, a backup cap, sunglasses, a dress shirt, one nice pair of shoes, and a dinner jacket. You never know when you’re going to need to be James Bond. Pack for the desired and be prepared for the unexpected.

On business trips, I often used to travel with in-line skates, because one of my travel mates was also an avid skater and skier. “Feet, say hello to Greensboro, SC, Sedona, AZ, Atlanta, San Diego, Munich…” Skating down 5th Ave in NYC during rush hour was clearly not essential nor planned, and mostly harrowing (got potholes?), but having the best tools available to make a spur of the moment adventure possible is, well, essential.

Oh, wool socks, gotta keep the feet dry and comfy. Darn Tough, my current favorites. Happy feet will always foot the bill (couldn’t resist) for spur-of-the-moment exploits.

When did you feel happiest?

“When did you” may imply that “happiest” is in the past. Also, “happiest” suggests an absolute, but “happy” is really fleeting and relative to the not-so-happy times in life. “Happiest” is a prize at the end of a treasure hunt. I have to have all my senses about me to recognize it.

I’m happiest when I can be myself: open and unfettered. These moments are free of artifice, material burdens, and emotional loose ends. These moments are when I’m most likely to be grateful, feeling lucky even, ultimately, at peace with my circumstances. These moments can be found when stepping well beyond my “ambient reality” on an adventure, in the face of kindness or wonder, just as they are available in the company of loved ones around a dinner table.

Who taught you your most important life lesson,
and what was it?

My dearly departed best pal and neighbor for many years, Norman Durkee, a pianist and composer. He played the rollicking piano you hear on the 70’s hit “Takin’ Care of Business” by Bachman Turner Overdrive. He was twelve years older than me, a part-time single dad, and one of my business mentors and parenting role models.

His life traversed the entirety of the music industry, from sex, drugs, and rock and roll, to punk rock and opera, from musical theater to ballet, and advertising jingles. He was often ahead of his time, a prolific producer of art, whose candle burned out in his early sixties.

Let people have their reality.
– Norman Durkee

Norman taught me many lessons, but during a mundane discussion, the details of which are long lost, he said: “I let people have their reality.” Meaning, to me, I didn’t need to bend others to my point of view. Erased was the arrogant, herculean mission of wanting to fix others and/or the world. I pocketed this shiny nugget and have carried it with me ever since.

You can teleport to any restaurant on earth: where do you go and what do you order?

Figueira Rubaiyat, Sao Paulo, Brazil.

Whatever red meat they bring me, salads, and a bottle of Malbec.

Tell us about the most adventurous food you ever ate?

My college buddy, Don, and I were nearing the end of a 1000-mile kayak expedition on the Mackenzie River in Canada’s Northwest Territories. We packed enough food for 45 days on the river, but by this time, our “fresh” provisions were long gone, and our diet turned monochromatic. Our beans and rice “banquets” were only occasionally supplemented by fish we’d caught along the way. North of the Arctic Circle, tired of the menu, and each other’s company, we needed a culinary boost.

Recipe for Coot
Pluck and clean bird. Wrap bird around a stone. Boil for two hours.
Throw away the bird and eat the stone.

— As told by a member of the Dené Nation of Canada’s Northwest Territories

Paddling into our peckish came a lame white swan with a severely mangled wing. Providence: we put the swan out of its misery and make ourselves a Thanksgiving feast! What followed can only be described as Elmer Fudd trying to capture and wring Daffy Duck’s neck, as directed by Quentin Tarantino. The gut-wrenching result: a bird in hand and two heartbroken kayakers.

We cleaned the swan and solemnly built a fire, wishing to make good of its clumsy death. Our first singed portions reeked of rancid fish and chewed like Eberhard Faber eraser. We roasted alternate cuts—the thigh, the breast, even the gizzard—to the same result. Old swan was not to be eaten...

Drink of choice?

Currently, in order: water, bone broth, and red wine.

Where do you feel most at home?

At home, in my own bed, cooking, or around the dinner table with friends. Telling stories.

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