Hello from Portugal!
Here hiking the Fisherman’s Trail with my friend Blake. Walking all day, working at night. Kinda awesome.
The other day, we were moving along the coast, overlooking the most beautiful cliffs, when rain starts pelting us sideways.
We slogged through the mud. Completely gross feet. Everything soaked.
Eventually, we plop down for lunch by the side of the trail in the bushes. Eating sardines, lettuce, and wet bread, laughing about where we were.
Later on, pretty tired, we could see where we were stopping for the night. Maybe 100 yards away. But there were two barbed wire fences between us and there.
So instead of risking some crazy cuts, we had to walk another two or three kilometers around to finally make it.
When we showed up drenched, the hosts made soup for us silly Americans.
I chose this trip because I wanted to be reminded that some cool things are also sort of hard. And that everything doesn’t need to be optimized.
It’s not heroically difficult. It’s just enough friction that everything gets a little complicated.
Why This Mattered
The whole trip has been more memorable because it isn’t perfectly smooth.
Friction creates the conditions for real memory.
Most things now work the opposite way. One-tap solutions and experiences optimized for ease.
And look, I love my phone. I’m still using it every day on this trip (let’s talk camp!). No anti-tech manifesto coming.
But constant ease means kids get very few reps with real discomfort.
And reality still delivers hardship whether you’re ready for it or not.
Rain will start, and they won’t have their jacket. Cars get flat tires. It takes a bit to make friends in college. Job applications sometimes mean some job rejections.
Life doesn’t care (at all) that you’re used to everything being easy.
Then I Read This Article
A few days into this trip, New York Magazine’s The Cut published a piece about “friction-maxxing.”
The argument → 2026 should be all about reintroducing friction into our lives.
Tech companies have spent decades eliminating many inconveniences. This weakens our capacity for real human experience.
But friction isn’t punishment. It’s preparation. It’s also where real memories happen.
The article’s key insight → Life’s real work comes from learning to tolerate and find meaning in ordinary friction.
What’s Happening at Camp
Making kids’ lives harder just for the sake of it isn’t a good plan.
But a place kids love that isn’t a total cakewalk? Yeah, that works.
Because at K&E:
Kids make their own beds. They walk to the dining hall instead of DoorDash-ing to their bunk. Lake water is cold. Summer is hot, and there’s no AC.
Older kids hike Mt. Washington (super hard, way out of most comfort zones), but an incredible confidence booster when you’re looking down from the top.
Color War means going all-in, then sometimes losing. Which doesn’t feel amazing when you care a ton. But they move on faster than you’d think.
Kids are in groups with people they didn’t choose. They navigate conflicts without texting someone. There’s sometimes a little boredom between activities. They work through missing home. Rain cancels the thing they really wanted to do.
This isn’t some “hardship program.” It’s just built into the rhythm of camp.
And kids love camp while experiencing this friction. Because friction is what makes the memories stick.
The sardines-in-the-bush moments. The walking-around-the-barbed-wire-fence moments. The getting-soaked-and-then-someone-makes-you-soup moments.
In Portugal, I chose the friction as an adult. At camp, the friction is designed in but feels completely natural.
The Timing
On a logistical level, kids’ lives are getting easier every single year.
Phones are there for any second of anxiousness or boredom. Can look up anything instantly. Can order food, rides, and solutions anytime they want.
This is mostly good.
But camp might be one of the last places where kids get healthy friction at scale.
Thousands of hours without a screen. No one-tap solutions to discomfort.
Just them, other people, and whatever’s happening right now.
Kids benefit from reps with slight friction.
Camp is where they get those reps while having the time of their lives.
Friction-Maxxing
We aren’t manufacturing tough moments.
We’re running a place your kids absolutely love that also has random moments baked in.
While so much of the world smooths out every bump, camp gives them something increasingly rare.
A place where things aren’t always easy. Where they sit in the metaphorical bush, eating sardines and laughing about where they are.
Hours of hiking reminded me why camp matters. Not in some abstract “building character” way, but in preparing kids for a world that is still imperfect.
Kids get something rare at camp. Imperfect and unoptimized moments with just a little friction.
We got this,
Jack
PS - Let’s talk camp, schedule a quick call here