I frequently offer to write letters of recommendation. Just this year, I have written letters endorsing admission to private middle schools, universities, graduate schools, and a variety of jobs.

When a deadline approaches, I groan, admonishing my past self for volunteering for what feels like extra work.

Begrudgingly (all about honesty here in True North), I sit down, open a new window in Google Docs, and start to write.

Then, suddenly, I’m fine. The annoyance evaporates. The words flow. The writing is fun. I know these kids (and adults). Really well.

Teachers—a go-to for letters of rec—spend one or two hours with their students each day for one school year. I spend one or two continuous months with our campers, sometimes for ten years or more. That is a lot of time.

By the time a camper graduates from the Chippewa Leadership Training program, I have spent drastically more time with them than any teacher.

I saw them jump off the high dive for the first time, after minutes of hesitation and second-guessing.

I listened to them talk about how much they missed home.

I helped coach them through an apology to a cabin member after calling them a name.

I watched them run back down a rugged portage trail to help a cabinmate they knew was struggling under the weight of a canoe.

I listened to them brief our group about the plan for navigating a set of rapids in the remote wilderness of Manitoba.

I saw the experiences that accelerated their growth from an unsure boy to a confident young man.

I know these campers. And writing about them is easy. Not only can I list their best, most durable traits, but I can speak to specific ways I’ve seen them used.

A parent sent me this email today (and please excuse my very official redactions).

The reason Camp Chippewa is so impactful is that, as the father above says, the journey is a lifelong one.

Camp is not a weekend workshop. It isn’t an hour-long private lesson. It isn’t a certification with a two-year expiration date.

Too many things in life are a sprint. One look at youth sports tells the story. Inspiring a lifelong love for athletics is a thing of the past, too often overpowered by the fierce arms race—often beginning well before puberty—to someday make a varsity roster. What was once a training ground for sportsmanship and camaraderie has become a race to get ahead.

Camp is not a sprint. It is a journey. Character develops over time, not overnight.

Each season of that journey is marked by a milestone. Looking back from each progressive achievement, each subsequent summit (as Miley Cyrus sagely opines in her lasting work, “The Climb”), campers feel the impact of real, lasting growth.

At eight, a camper looks up to the older, confident boys at camp.

As a pre-teen, he looks forward to coming-of-age on his first week-long canoe trip.

As a high schooler, he dreams of paddling to Hudson Bay and leading the youngest camper as a CLT.

As a Chippewa graduate, he aspires to come back as a counselor.

As an adult, he seeks out adventure in his life, takes on challenges with a deep source of resilience, and treats others with an innate compassion.

As an alumni, he dreams of his most precious memories at Chippewa, and passes on his heritage to others.

The impact of the Camp Chippewa journey is in plain sight. Parents, like the one who wrote the email above, see their sons come home from camp each summer a little better than they left, eventually becoming remarkable young men.

Life isn’t a sprint, so it stands to reason that learning to flourish in life isn’t a sprint either.

Camp is a years-long adventure, one that is perfectly tailored to young people.

If a boy is provided with direction and a compelling journey, he will amaze you with how far he goes.

Onward,

Sam
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