“My dear friends, my beautiful disruptors, my closest inner circle.” What would you give for a trip to a private island? With a fresh, unused passport, the closest I have ever been to a private island is going to Catalina Island. Catalina has been the pinnacle of my measuring tape of growth since moving from North Carolina to California.

At the end of 2015, I was gifted a surprise trip to Catalina Island. My friend simply told me to pack simple and warm clothing items and she would supply the rest. Two days later, we woke up at 3:00 AM and head to Long Beach to catch a ferry to Catalina. I didn’t know I would be on a real island, let alone be taking a ferry to get to it. Mind you, I have intense Thalassophobia so I was terrified and afraid to show it. We missed the ferry and had to drive to another location to catch the next ferry to the island. I still had no idea what kind of trip this would be. Eventually, we get on a ferry and my friend gets me two tequila sunrises to ease my fear. Inside the ferry were locals of the island who realized our situation and a kind gentleman decided he would help us get to our friends on the other side of the island since we were now disconnected from the group we were meeting. After having some good banter, I told my friend I needed to go to the bathroom. I was seasick and stuck in the bathroom upchucking until our arrival. I cried fervently. This was not the start of the island getaway that I expected.

When we landed, the gentleman drove my friend and me across the island through the backcountry telling us the tales of Catalina. For example, there are trees planted close to each other as you drive up one of the mountains on the city side of the island. Many years ago, the island was owned by the Wrigleys, known for their chewing gum. The husband enjoyed drinking in the town the driving fast up the mountain to his wife. His wife knew she couldn’t stop her husband’s fun yet she was worried she would lose him off the side of the cliff. Those trees were planted by the wife to keep her husband from going over in a car crash. This story along with many others was told over the hour it took us to get from the harbor to the backside of the island.

When we arrived at the westward side of the mountain, I was in complete disbelief. Never had I ever seen beauty quite like that. The imagery is stamped in my mind like a postcard. The harbor was surrounded by mountains with a cliff in the middle separating the two sides. Short, large, and bushy palm trees were sporadic across the landscape with huge, brown buffalo grazing the mountains all around us. There were old, merlot-colored picnic tables at the few campsites around, and the water was clearer than anything I had witnessed before. It was at this moment that I knew I was in the right place, at the right time, for a greater purpose than I could ever imagine. I was uncomfortable with the magnitude of the ocean around me. I felt small and helpless yet free for the first time in my life.

We set up our tent, took some selfies, and waited for the arrival of the attendees of this trip. I now understood this was a camping retreat of some sort. I had never been camping but wanted to ever since I was a young girl.

My first Girl Scout campout went horribly wrong. Even though I don’t remember, my grandmother recalls I rode to the camp with the girls, was all set then started crying to go home after a few hours. My grandmother picked me up and that was the last time she tried. I even begged my dad to take me but by the time I reached 13 years old, I could not be bothered with getting dirty, being outside, or being “gross.”

After an hour or so, over a hill in the distance, I see “dirty hippies” descending from different directions. My excitement quickly turned into, “what kind of mess is this?” In other words, my “black side” kicked in. The group was mostly white with a few Asian Americans and foreigners. I was uncomfortable again. I tried helping others set up but they all seemed irritated. I didn’t understand this feeling until a few years later. They moved quietly around camp and set up a cooking station and began making food. The temperature dropped rapidly and the wind from the sea was unforgiving. A few members made a large fire which I was more than happy to sit next to. This was a first for me. Being outside, sitting next to a campfire with my back against the cold, dark night. The mountains that were once visible green giants now stood as black shadows against the starlit sky. The moon was the only source of light and it took at least 5-10 minutes to walk to the bathroom.

Around the campfire is where my perspective changed. It was around 7:00 PM, everyone was fed, tired, and cold. The event was officially set in motion by the organization’s leaders. I was still uncomfortable. I felt like my friend–who is a wealthy, Bel Air mom–brought me to a gathering of poor, dirty weirdos because I’m from the south and at the time, her children’s nanny. I felt out of place. I felt like I wanted to go home. I wanted this to be over. But the leaders had us all do an icebreaker. We went around the circle saying who we were, where we were from, and what we do. I was the last person to go. As the group began speaking, I realized this group of “dirty hippies” were a group of well-established, doctors, surgeons, CEOs, investors, and business owners. I was floored. I could not believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t believe the places people were from. Most of all, I couldn’t believe how absolutely childish, uncultured, and dumb I felt. When it was my turn, I felt ashamed that all I could say was, “Hi, my name is Dominique Alston. I’m from Coats, North Carolina and I’m a nanny.” The group didn’t look down on me though. Instead, they were enamored with my southern accent. We continued doing different exercises and icebreakers around the campfire. I felt so loved, so open, and so small-minded. The cold night, turned warm as these strangers cuddled me and hugged me tightly. We shared blankets and soon bid each other goodnight.

I made a decision that night to let go of everything I knew. I was so disappointed in myself but tomorrow, all these preconceived notions I built in my head would be out the window and I would allow myself to accept this blessing God put in front of me.

The next morning, I woke up to the sun around 6:00 AM. I heard a buffalo near my tent so I just sat there smiling in the cold next to my friend. Eventually, we got up and I was surprised to see others up, dressed, and making hot cacao at the tables. I had never had cacao nor the chia seed pudding I gobbled down with quickness. It was so good. A guy came up to me and brought up my cheer background in college which I mentioned the evening before. He took me over to a mat in the sun and taught me acro-yoga. I was pretty good at it for it being my first time. This day was becoming as open to me as I was to it. We meditated, did yoga, journaled, and played. Yes, adults played like little children with each other and it was good. At the end of the day, I felt so full. Full of light, love, resilience, freedom, and a newfound mindset. In the afternoon, everyone put on their swimwear–in December– and headed to the “Whale’s Tale” cliff in the middle of the harbor. I stood on that cliff contemplating my life as I watched each person jump into the sea, timing their leap perfectly to the giant waves 100 feet from the shoreline. I promised I would be open to the experience and after 30+ minutes, I did my first cliff jump into Shark Harbor. The water was freezing cold and I swear I had never swum so fast in my whole life. I could have won a gold medal for the speed my adrenaline brought out of me. However, when I climbed out of the crystal water and onto the sand, I felt born again. 

Gentle and mischievous foxes snuck around our food table. The moon lit the land romantically and the scent of the salty ocean mixed with the flying embers of our campfire engulfed the fibers of our clothes. We watched the sunset and cuddled around the fire once again speaking and sharing stories as if we were old friends from many shared lifetimes. I felt comfortable.

The next day, we packed up our belongings and put them on a truck to meet us at the harbor and hiked to the harbor where we would meet our ferry. The hike was hard and it made complete sense why everyone was so “dirty” and tired when we first met them. I took a picture with a buffalo that I spoke to as if it were a tiny kitten, and made life-long friends who I still cherish to this day. 

What is funny about me calling everyone “dirty hippies” is I in fact am a hippie through and through. My dad is a festival-going, hair-stringing, pot-smoking, old-school hippie and I am his daughter. The apple did not fall far from the tree. So, in hanging with these hippie folk, I found my community; people who are in touch with Mother Nature but also want more for themselves. It was this trip that inspired me to start my first business which I ran for over 5 years, “Ihunaanya.” Over 50 events across the United States and bringing people into the most notable National and State parks our country has to offer. Camping, backpacking, hiking, meditating, yoga, acro-yoga, campfire conversations, cliff-jumping, bungee jumping, kayaking, and the list goes on. This trip and these humans literally changed my life.

Catalina is not private but it is not widely accessible monetarily by just anyone. It’s a special place and the campgrounds on its west end give that private feeling. I have returned to Catalina several times since this trip. Once hosted my own event at the campgrounds. Once for a couple’s trip where we flew there on a helicopter, jet-skied, took a golf cart around the island, and stayed in the honeymoon suite at the Zane Grey Pueblo Hotel. Lastly in 2022, flying in a private airplane to finish filming a movie I starred in called, Born 2 Hustle. So, now you can see why I use Catalina Island as a measuring tape for my growth. From my first year in California as nothing more than a nanny to a businesswoman, actress, and luxury-loving hippie years later.

Private islands are a symbol of exclusivity and luxury, and many people are drawn to the idea of being invited to one because it implies that they have reached a certain level of wealth or status. These islands are often seen as a place to escape the hustle and bustle of everyday life, where people can relax and enjoy a more secluded and private setting.

There are many reasons why people might want to be invited to a private island. For some, it may be a chance to rub elbows with the rich and famous, as private islands are often frequented by celebrities and other high-profile individuals. For others, it may be an opportunity to experience a level of luxury and exclusivity that they cannot find elsewhere.

Private islands can offer a range of amenities and activities, from golf courses and spas to fine dining and water sports. They may also offer unique experiences, such as private yacht charters or helicopter tours. All of these factors can contribute to the allure of being invited to a private island.

However, it’s important to note that private islands are not just for the wealthy elite. There are also many affordable private island options available for those who are looking to experience the exclusivity and luxury of a private island without breaking the bank. Regardless of one’s budget, the appeal of a private island is often the opportunity to escape the pressures and distractions of everyday life and enjoy a more relaxed and secluded setting.

Cheers to us, my dear friends, my beautiful disruptors, and my closest inner circle. May we manifest private islands in the near future filled with life, lessons, and luxury.