Building Medina Adventure Company: The Messy Middle Before the First Campfire

From concept (2025) to our first season (2026) — faith, friction, and the strange art of explaining a new thing

I started building Medina Adventure Company in 2025. Not as a hobby. Not as a “wouldn’t it be cool if…” idea scribbled on a napkin. I mean the real version: concept stage, planning stage, funding stage, acquisitions, legal, insurance, systems, vendors, gear, brand. Everything.

And now we’re coming into our first season.

Spring is approaching. Ohio snowed yesterday. Campgrounds are still closed. And I haven’t hosted my first paying guest yet.

So I’m writing this for the founders, the builders, the ones in the uncomfortable middle—where your vision is alive, your bank account is not feeling particularly spiritual, and every well-meaning person you love asks:

“So… how’s the business going?”

The part nobody posts on Instagram

Here’s the honest truth:

This has been a test of faith.

There are days where the vision is crystal clear and I feel steady. And there are days where I look at the math; life savings dwindling, retirement invested, inventory acquired and I get that cold flash of:

“What did I do?”

Not because I don’t believe in the mission. Because the timeline is real, the weather is real, and the gap between building and earning can feel like standing on a bridge that isn’t finished yet.

Building something people don’t have a category for

The concept sounds simple when you say it in one sentence:

We make it easy for people to connect by providing tents, RVs, campers, and adventure gear, available for pickup or delivered and set up, wherever they want to camp.

But here’s the paradox:

The simpler the concept is, the harder it can be to explain… because it doesn’t fit into an existing mental box.

People understand:

• camping

• RV rentals

• camper rentals

• glamping

But what we do is different. We’re not only a rental company. We’re not only a glamping site. We’re not only a delivery company. We’re something in between, and honestly, we’re a new category.

Which means sometimes the concept gridlocks. People try to snap it into a familiar frame and it doesn’t click right away.

A recent moment made me laugh and scratch my head at the same time:

Someone asked where our 16’ tipi was set up.

I replied, “Wherever you want to go. We’ll set it up and you just arrive to a fully prepped camp.”

Their response?

“I just want to show up where it is.”

And I thought… Yes. Exactly. That’s what I’m offering. But “where it is” is where you choose it to be.

That’s the hurdle: people are used to glamping being a fixed location. Our model is portable resort-style camping. You pick the place. We bring the comfort.

Using AI to build awareness… and getting punched in the mouth for it

When you’re building something new, you need to communicate the idea long before you can show it at scale.

I used AI to build awareness while I put the concept together, because I was trying to communicate something that didn’t exist the way I envisioned us doing it.

I was open and honest about that tool. I explained it clearly: we’re building a new concept, and we’re using modern tools to communicate and prototype that concept.

And still… before we ever pitched our first camp, we had comments online:

• “this looks scammy”

• “beware”

• “AI slop”

That stung. Not because criticism is new, but because it was criticism before we even had a chance to serve anyone.

But that’s a lesson founders learn fast:

If you’re early enough, some people mistake “new” for “fake.”

And if you’re transparent enough, some people will still assume the worst because cynicism is easier than curiosity.

So we kept going.

Because the goal was never to “look perfect.” The goal was to build something real. AI was a tool like a hammer to a nail is better than the back end of a screw driver. We've all done it.

The “unknown” tax: insurance, systems, and being told no… a lot

The funniest (and most frustrating) part about building a new category?

Even the professionals don’t know what box to put you in.

Insurance companies asked:

“What is it you do again?”

And when I explained it—transporting, delivering, setting up, and renting camping equipment and campers—the tone often shifted into polite discomfort.

Unknown = risk. Risk = “no.”

Insurance companies aren’t designed to be adventurous. They’re designed to avoid surprises. And when you build a business that hasn’t been done exactly this way, surprises are what everyone fears.

Same with vendors. Same with systems. Same with accounts. Same with things you’d assume you could just… buy.

One of the biggest surprises: health insurance for a company. I assumed it would be like buying anything else: choose a plan, pay the bill, move on. Nope.

They want financials. Performance. Bank statements. Proof of income. Underwriting. Qualification.

It felt absurd. Like walking into a store and being told:

“Before we sell you this, prove your career is successful.”

I got told no more times than I can count. And eventually—after persistence, learning, and a lot of uncomfortable conversations—I found what we needed.

That’s part of the founder story too:

You learn by getting rejected until you become fluent.

What we’re building as an employer (yes, already)

Here’s something God put on my heart early, and it’s not negotiable for me:

We’re going to be a premier employer not for the recognition, because it is the RIGHT way to treat people.

Because this isn’t just about gear. It’s about people. And it’s about stewardship.

If we’re going to build something long-term, we’re going to build it with integrity—and with the kind of team culture that doesn’t treat people as “labor,” but as partners.

As the saying goes: "If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together"

The hardest part: “How’s it going?”

This question lands differently when you’re pre-revenue.

Because if we’re being literal, the honest answer is:

We’re still building.

And it’s hard to explain to people who love you that this is normal. That no, you didn’t fail. That the business isn’t “not working.” It’s just that camping in Northeast Ohio doesn’t exactly explode between late October and early April.

But when you’ve invested your retirement and savings, and you’re staring at the calendar in mid-March, and someone asks again…

It can make you pause.

And that’s where faith has to be more than a phrase.

The encouragement that keeps me moving

Here’s the part that gives me oxygen:

Every time someone listens long enough to understand the concept—really understand it—their face changes.

They light up.

They say things like:

• “That’s a fantastic idea.”

• “I would love that.”

• “Life is too busy. This is needed.”

• “You’re solving the hardest part.”

And yesterday, at my optometrist, someone said something that clicked:

“So you’re like a wedding planner… for camping?”

And I laughed because… honestly? That’s not wrong. Sort of.

We can help plan. We can recommend. We can coordinate the experience.

But the difference is—we also own the gear.

We can:

• deliver and set up your campsite before you arrive

• so you show up like checking into a resort

• or you can pick up exactly what you need

• or do anything in between

The point is never to “camp harder.” The point is to make it easier for families, couples, friends, Scout troops—anyone—to actually do the thing they keep saying they want to do:

Get outside. Be together. Make memories.

What we actually sell

Here’s the truth: we don’t sell tents.

We sell a feeling.

We sell the moment you look back and think:

“We really did that.”

The moment where the kids are laughing, the fire is crackling, your shoulders finally drop, and for a little while the world gets quiet enough for you to feel grateful.

The goal is that when people look back, they feel like they…

Lived Stories Worth Telling.

And if we have to explain it a few times until it clicks, we will.

Because new things take time to name.

And the right people, our people, will understand it and love it.

Coming into our first season

We’re not waiting for perfect conditions. Ohio will never provide those.

We’re building the infrastructure. We’re learning what we need. We’re refining the message. We’re preparing the gear and the experience.

We’re getting ready for the first guests.

And yes—there are moments of doubt.

But there’s also something deeper:

A conviction that this idea is real, needed, and worth the risk.

So if you’re in the messy middle of building something…If you’re hearing “no” more than “yes”…If you’re watching your savings turn into inventory, systems, and hope…

Just know: you’re not crazy.

You’re early.

And early always feels like this.

See you around the campfire.