Our Story
How a family's love for camping became a movement for belonging
Where It All Began
Justin and Sally met at the University of Virginia, bringing together two unique perspectives on the outdoors.
Justin grew up RV camping in the Pacific Northwest, while Sally's military family response to camping was "Why would we do that?" Both came from mixed-race families with Black fathers and White mothers—a rarity in outdoor spaces that shaped their understanding of belonging in nature.
Sally and Justin on their first hike together in Shenandoah National Park in 2004 (notice the Timberland boots and blue jeans, classic tells that we were early in our understanding of how to stay comfortable outdoors)
Sally and Justin on the last leg of the Zion Traverse in Zion National Park in 2018 (as you can see, we learned a thing or two about equipping ourselves in the 14 years since our first hike in Virginia)
Their journey through marriage, careers, and raising four daughters (Siena, Jaelyn, Zadie, and Eliza) has been grounded by one constant: the healing power of nature. From fumbling through Georgia's Cohutta Wilderness to braving New Hampshire's Presidential Range, from conquering Wyoming's Teton Crest Trail to perfecting family car camping at Lake Tahoe, the outdoors has been their anchor for rest and reconnection.
The path to founding Outdoorithm Collective emerged from their own evolution as campers and parents. Through extensive outdoor experiences, gear testing, and campground explorations, they identified three persistent barriers keeping urban families from camping: finding the right places, having the right equipment, and feeling a sense of belonging.
Using their Oakland home as a testing ground, they turned weekend adventures into a proven system for successful family camping. Today, Outdoorithm Collective builds on this foundation—helping every family discover the joy, empowerment, and wonder that nature provides.
The entire Steele family in 2022 camping at Kirk Creek campground in incredible Big Sur, California
Building Outdoorithm Collective, one tent at a time
From that personal foundation, they began organizing trips for other families. Each weekend became both a camping adventure and a laboratory—learning what urban families needed to feel welcomed outdoors, what barriers were real versus perceived, and how to build authentic community in nature.
What started as informal gatherings with friends evolved into Outdoorithm Collective—a movement to ensure every urban family has access to the healing power of public lands and the belonging that comes from camping in community.
The Moment Everything Changed
Nobody Solos
Kids discovering pure freedom at Lower Yosemite Falls
The McBride family—the moment we knew this was bigger than us
The community that showed us what's possible
The moment came after that Yosemite trip. We'd seen it before—families who never described themselves as outdoorsy discovering something profound in nature. But this time, watching the McBride family and others, something clicked.
It wasn't just about our family anymore. We watched kids bouldering up Lower Yosemite Falls, taking fall after fall, pure joy radiating from their faces—a freedom you rarely see these days with all the structure and the constant need to be safe around others. We saw families who came for the camping but stayed for the community, finding connection in shared meals and stories around the campfire.
The 1am doubt: Will people actually want to do this? It's one thing when your friends come because they want to hang out with you. But will people come when camping is actually hard? Do we have what it takes to get this off the ground when it means trading family time and resources?
Then we remembered our own mantra: Nobody solos. The overwhelm came from thinking we had to do it alone. But we'd learned through camping—and would learn again building this organization—that you don't have to do it alone. There are people who are invested and excited who will come alongside you, whether it's words of encouragement, connections, or something else. The village we were trying to build for families in the outdoors? That same village would help us build the organization.
The First Trip
October 2023 • The Pilot That Proved Everything
The Napa Valley fields across from where it all began
Camp as It Comes
Two weeks before the trip: Sally got COVID for the first time. Twenty people signed up. No systems in place. Everything to prove.
The planning we'd carefully mapped out? Scrambled together from a garage quarantine. The physical work of hauling gear and setting up? All on Justin while Sally rested between waves of exhaustion.
Day before departure: The 10-day mark. Sally tested negative. She could come—weak and recovering, but there. Would anyone else actually show up?
The chaos: Two last-minute cancellations—one sick, one car crash (they were fine, just car troubles). Justin stretching pizza dough while managing a single pizza oven for 20 hungry people. Kids' custom toppings creating an assembly line that couldn't keep pace with growling stomachs. Families who brought their own tents discovering at 10pm that comfort matters more than saving money.
But here's the thing:
The group hike the next morning. Kids exploring the woods, walking on logs, discovering a creek with the wonder of archaeologists finding ancient treasure. Parents visibly relaxing as they watched their children's joy—and then discovering their own joy in the quiet beauty around them.
Wine tasting while pizzas slowly cooked. Appetizers shared while stories were traded. The kind of deep conversation that only happens when you're not rushing to the next thing.
"None of it was perfect. All of it was transformative."
The group hike—kids (and adults) exploring with wonder
Wine, appetizers, and deep conversations
October 2023—our first trip, our first community
Bailey's Story
From Anxious to Advocate
Bailey (left) with board member Michelle Austin
Bailey's daughter discovering confidence on the trail
When Bailey signed up for her first group camping trip with us, she was taking a significant step. After a period away from community—rebuilding slowly and carefully with a few close friends—joining a trip with strangers took real courage.
We talked for an hour before her first trip. Not about logistics or gear lists. About community—how everyone participates, everyone has gifts to bring, everyone pulls from the collective, and that pulling isn't a burden but how community is designed to work.
"I didn't know this could be a safe space. But now I see that it is."
On the group hike, Bailey worried about physical limitations. What happened next showed the community we were building: people rallied around her—not with pity, but with genuine care and thoughtful support. She could tell she was genuinely cared for, that people wanted the best for her.
The transformation: By her second trip, Bailey knew the ropes. She didn't mind asking for help when she needed it, but she was also there offering help to others—a kind person lending hands, sharing skills, building the community she'd found healing in.
That's not just a personal transformation. That's dismantling systemic barriers—showing that accessibility isn't just about bathrooms and trail grades. It's about the stories we've been told about who belongs in which spaces, and what happens when we create communities that center inclusion, reciprocity, and genuine welcome.
Community gathering on the trail
Finding belonging in the redwoods
Where We're Going
We're building more than camping trips. We're creating a national movement where public lands become spaces of collective belonging.
Guided Trips
Creating welcoming, fully-supported group camping experiences that remove barriers and build confidence
Member Community
Fostering year-round connections where families support each other, organize their own adventures, and build lasting friendships
National Movement
Scaling across America, transforming how diverse communities access and protect our shared public lands
The Miller and Austin families at a chance meetup—the kind of friendship that starts on the trail and extends far beyond it