When I got my MBA a while ago, strategy and alignment were big topics. Along with the financial machinations of a business, marketing, and microeconomic theory, ensuring your company knows why it exists (not just in the Milton Friedman sense) and making sure that’s what you’re working towards is important. It’s one of the best qualitative indicators of future success. So while I didn’t sit down and write a mission statement, I did spend a long time thinking about what I wanted Clean Lines to do. And it boils down to making sure this community has access to the gear they need. The tag-line on the website says it a little more eloquently: We’re here to ensure the gear you bring on your next river adventure will turn that trip into a story you love to tell.
I was in a neighboring community a few days ago, in the garage/shop of a guy who I learned had a boat he wanted to sell. It was a ways away from home, already dark. I was planning on this being a quick transition and then head home to Portland in time for dinner. But then we started talking. He has a passion for overnight raft trips and a knack for getting himself invited on Grand Canyon trips. And he had some stories. Stories about the people he has met, the friends he has made, the boats he’s taken, the gear he has used, and the lessons he has learned.
I was there for 3 hours, listening to his stories. When I finally had to leave, I didn’t leave him without a boat (he sold me the boat in his fleet that he used the least). I didn’t leave without a plan to connect soon on a river new to one of us (he’s never been on the Owyhee or the Grande Ronde, and I’ve never been on the Colorado). And I didn’t leave without a great reminder of how important it really is to be able to tell the stories. For the storyteller and for the audience.
If I get to help folks tell stories like I heard the other day, that will be the mission fulfilled. Because it’s the stories that matter.


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