I’ve stayed in some really nice hotels.

Big beds. Big showers. Free shitty breakfast if you’re lucky.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with them, but I’ve never once checked out of a hotel thinking,

“Wow… I made three new friends this weekend.”

Camping is different.

A hotel doesn’t slow you down. A hotel doesn’t break you from the laptop. It certainly doesn’t have the sounds of the frogs around the pond. But ya know what does?

Camping.

At a hotel, you walk into an elevator you will share with people that do not want to speak to you. At Campit, a walk to the showers will net 6 waves, 3 golf cart stops, 5 seasonal greetings, and at least 4 new friends. I know this, I have done the math.

By Saturday night you’re sitting around a fire wondering how you met these people less than twenty-four hours ago. It happens all the time. My favorite thing about this place is connection is in the air.

I love the way camping here reminds you to be, well, you, and that’s a magnet for friendship around here.

Sure, the pool is nice. The shows are a blast. The cabins are amazing.

But that’s not what people remember. They remember laughing so hard around a campfire that their stomach hurt. They remember finally relaxing enough to take a deep breath.

They remember realizing they didn’t have to pretend to be anyone else.

I think that’s why so many people return year after year. They aren’t chasing a rush. They’re chasing a feeling.

One that can be surprisingly hard to find once you leave.

You don’t have to be an experienced camper.

You don’t need a giant motorhome.

You don’t even have to know how to start a campfire.

You just have to show up.

…..And that’s why we camp.