Friendships Built at Sleepaway Camp Last a Lifetime

On a humid July morning in Manhattan, girls board buses with duffels nearly as large as they are. Parents wave, smile bravely, and swallow nerves. The destination may be Maine or Vermont, but the promise is universal: Somewhere between the lake swims, camp songs, and late-night bunk whispers, something enduring will take root. Long after the mosquito bites fade, the friendships and the skills remain.

Camp Tapawingo in Sweden, Maine, is a case in point: “Tapawingo” means place of joy, and for more than a century, it has lived up to its name. Founded in 1919 and now run by director JD Lichtman, the all-girls camp sits on a pristine lake surrounded by pine trees, with the White Mountains rising quietly in the distance. It is traditional in the best sense—horses, theater, arts and crafts, ropes courses, and long days outdoors—but also intentional in its mission. “From the way we lead camp, we value relationships,” Lichtman says. “This is central to the Tapawingo experience.”

Tapawingo’s campers, ages 7 to 16, arrive from about 20 states and six countries, many from New York and the tri-state area. They come independently, not as school cliques, which is precisely the point. Without phones, social hierarchies soften. Girls arrive as strangers and leave as sisters. Ninety percent return the following summer.

One camper, Abigail, puts it simply: “I love being at camp with my friends because we are able to do great bonding activities and our time together is so much more meaningful.” Her sister Claire appreciates the intensity of it all. “Since I only really get to be with camp friends once a year during the summer, I really treasure the time we are able to spend together.” Both note the magic of Maine itself—wildlife, woods, and a beauty far removed from New York City.

That separation from everyday life is precisely why camp friendships endure. “Friendships formed at sleepaway camp last because they are built under unique conditions,” Lichtman explains. “Lots of time together, shared experiences, and growing up side by side without the distractions of everyday life.” Campers learn to resolve conflicts, celebrate wins, and discover their authentic selves, together. “Those bonds evolve as they do.”

Moe Bromley, a member of Tapawingo’s leadership team who has spent more than 30 summers there, sees camp as a proving ground for life. “It is one of the most powerful and influential places in the world,” she says. “Summers at TAP teach life lessons about friendship, loyalty, creativity, courage, and resilience. It is a safe place to practice the skills essential to life.”

Former camper and now parent Liz Krieger agrees. Camp friendships, she says, are “built on a shared foundation of having spent time in a magical place deep in the woods of Maine, where songs and traditions carry you through the days and the years.” Away from parents and school labels, girls become their truest selves. “You really expand how you think about everything,” she adds.

This phenomenon is not unique to Tapawingo. At Camp Vega in Kent’s Hill, Maine, celebrating its 90th summer, alumna Lauren Schlesinger still keeps in close touch with the friends she met there over 40 years ago. “We spent so much uninterrupted quality time together,” she recalls. With no electronics, uniforms that erased difference, and a deeply team-oriented culture, friendships were assumed and inclusive. “As with any good team,” she says, “we had each other’s backs and thought of each other as family.”

Schlesinger recounts a moment involving a bunkmate whose mother was battling cancer—a reminder that camp was both an escape and a refuge. The support her friend felt, she believes, helped shape her into the leader she later became: a camp director herself.

At Brown Ledge Camp in Colchester, Vermont, founded in 1926, the philosophy of “Freedom of Choice” gives girls agency over their days. Stina Pepin, who traveled from Denmark to work there at 18, remembers the immediacy of connection. “There’s no judgment, only encouragement and care,” she says. A weekly tradition called Ledger—where campers perform and are met with thunderous support regardless of talent—crystallizes it. “Seeing someone step into the spotlight and be met with pure encouragement is such a gift.”

Arrival and departure days say it all. Campers who haven’t spoken in months reconnect instantly, crying openly at goodbyes and already planning reunions. Decades later, alumnae gather in New York, Boston, Los Angeles—or back on the lake—picking up where they left off.

It turns out that the friendships forged in cabins and canoes are not frozen in childhood. They grow, adapt, and endure. Much like camp itself, they are built on time, trust, and the rare luxury of being wholly present—together.