Trading Keyboards for Campfires
It’s hard to put 12 years into words. When I joined Microsoft, I couldn’t have imagined the journey that lay ahead. Helping to build up search brands like Bing and Edge was a thrill—shaping products that reached millions. But what really set the experience apart wasn’t just the scale of the work or the late-night brainstorming sessions over new features or ways to communicate them; it was the people. I had the chance to collaborate with brilliant minds, create deep connections, and—most memorably— become a storyteller.
My final role at Microsoft marked a unique shift—from promoting products and features to sharing stories about the amazing people who make the company what it is. Their drive and passion were inspiring and served as a constant reminder that I wanted to be doing work that made me feel just as fulfilled.
In 2023 those reminders became more pronounced and earlier this year, I knew it was time for a change.
Leaving a place you’ve invested over a decade into isn’t a simple decision. I kept wrestling with one question: What’s holding me back? And the answer was straightforward: I wasn’t taking any risks. There’s a strange comfort in becoming really good at what you do—like being on cruise control, coasting on what’s familiar. But the flip side is you stop learning. You stop stretching. You stop growing. I had gone from challenging the status quo to operating on autopilot. I knew I had to find a way to reignite that spark and get back into what felt authentic to me.
The funny thing is, I think I already knew the answer. It hit me back in 2021 when my wife and I sold a cabin we co-designed and built in Cle Elum, “The Hideout”. We spent countless weekends there, hosting friends, sharing meals around the fire, and finding a sort of peace that’s hard to describe. But more than that, I found so much fulfillment in opening the doors of The Hideout to guests from all over the world.
Building a brand around that cabin and seeing the joy it brought to people made me realize how powerful a simple, welcoming space can be. Each time we received a glowing review or a heartfelt thank-you from a family who had just spent a long weekend recharging and reconnecting, it wasn’t just about managing a rental—it was about curating an experience. Helping people create memories like that was incredibly rewarding. It turned what began as a personal retreat into something so much bigger.
When we eventually sold The Hideout, it felt like closing a chapter, but also like unlocking a whole new perspective: creating environments that invite people to slow down, feel grounded, and experience the kind of joy you only find off the beaten path.
That’s why kamperage is so much more than just a business. It’s a leap back into risk, into creativity, and into what I love. It’s an opportunity to bring together the best of what excites me—service, community, sustainability, and wilderness. Kamperage is about more than renting out electrified campers or helping people plan their next road trip; it’s about helping everyone rediscover what adventure beyond a conventional hotel room can look like. For me, this isn’t just about building a company; it’s about building a movement.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that passion isn’t a straight line. It twists and turns and sometimes hides until you’re ready to go looking for it again. Stepping away from Microsoft and launching Kamperage is my way of chasing that passion wherever it leads, and helping others do the same.
So here’s to the road ahead—imperfect, unpredictable, but already rewarding.
If you’re someone who’s seeking something similar, I invite you to find a friend and go for it. After all, adventure is better when shared.
