Growing up, I loved summer camps, no matter what kind. I would beg my mom to send me to Camp Orkila, where all the cool kids went, on Orcas Island in Washington. I went to single-day cooking camps at the local community market. In the first grade, I began attending Camp Coyote, a place where I made best friends ā and so many sāmores ā year after year, eventually becoming a counselor myself. Then, of course, there were the Mormon summer camps. You might think a closeted young lesbian would have hated them, but I looked forward to going every time ā yes, even the year that I had to participate in Trek, a multiday reenactment of the pioneer trail, which included pulling a heavy wagon through the woods while wearing a dress and bonnet. The most important thing was I got to be outside ā and yeah, maybe I flirted with the girls a little.
But as a queer adult, going to summer camp gets a lot harder. Itās already challenging enough to find affirming community spaces, let alone outdoor retreats that fit around my full-time job. But if you also want to indulge your childlike whimsy, youāre not alone. Adult LGBTQ+ summer camps were made for people like us.

Some, like āCampā Camp, which hosts LGBTQ+ adults at an all-inclusive weeklong summer camp in central Maine, have been around for nearly 30 years. Others like Dyke Camp, now entering its second year, and Sappy Trips, which is hosting its inaugural getaway this summer, are just getting started. And then there are smaller, unofficial getaways organized by friend groups, like Camp Carabiner, the name bestowed upon a weekend getaway coordinated by Cailyn Fiori and Alice Naland, who wanted to deepen their connections with friends around the bonfire.
Why summer camp? Kayla Pekkala, āCampā Campās director of social media and communications, says she sought it out as an adult because it felt like āone of the only places I could really go be a kid.ā
āI wanted to get back to that as an adult. And you know, go have some fun,ā she says. āWho doesnāt want to go make arts and crafts by the lake?ā
Every summer, āCampā Camp, one of the longest-lasting LGBTQ+ adult summer camps in the country, hosts more than 200 campers, ranging from 21 to 84 years old, hailing from all over the country. Some even come from abroad. āIt was my first time being in a truly intergenerational community,ā Pekkala says. A week at āCampā Camp can include everything from archery and swimming to horseback riding, pottery, and Broadway dance. Which yes, means thereās a āno talent, talentā show at the end of the week. Itās clear that this has become a sacred place to many. Not only has āCampā Camp persisted for decades, but 75 percent of its campers return year after year. āThe phrase we always use is that if you come to camp, youāll have the best time ever,ā Pekkala says.

Dyke Camp, founded by Nic Pieta in 2025, came about because they believed āqueer people should be able to have fun in the woods together.ā The goal? To create an opportunity for the queer community, specifically dykes, to get outdoors and perhaps even ābe naked, topless in a pond or sauna or pool,ā Pieta says. What originally started as a 75-person weekend getaway to Camp Singers in upstate New York has more than doubled in size in 2026. Now, theyāre taking over Camp Ramblewood in Maryland and offering campers instruction in everything from yoga and swimming to shibari, or Japanese rope bondage. āIt gives you a time to just breathe and take a second to be like, wow, thereās actually more than my 9-to-5 out there, and thereās community to be made in these kinds of events,ā Pieta says. āIn our feedback form, so many people said that Dyke Camp was the best weekend of their lives,ā adds Auggie Enzer, a fellow NYC-based organizer helping to plan this yearās getaway.
This year, born-and-raised New Yorker Liz Gonzalez is also officially hosting her first-ever edition of Sappy Trips, a queer weekend getaway upstate. Gonzalez, who describes herself as the designated āplanner in my friend groups,ā had been wanting to put something like Sappy together for years. After coming out at 22, attending culinary school, receiving her MBA, and perhaps just as importantly, going through a lesbian breakup, she knew she wanted to be āvery intentional about seeking out queer community and making queer friends.ā With Sappy Trips, the queer travel brand she launched at the end of April, she hopes to help people āreally just take time out of the city and foster community with like-minded people.ā The initial feedback form got over 200 responses. āLeading something like this just kind of makes sense and honestly brings me the most joy,ā Gonzalez says of Sappy.

For Fiori and Naland, organizing Camp Carabiner was almost a no-brainer. The former roommates have experience hosting events ranging from Dykes and Dolls, a NYC- based community organization, to Nalandās annual Homocoming party, an event that reimagines a classic high school dance but with a queer twist. But while Camp Carabiner may not be an official camp per se, the goals and structure of the weekend are the same. āIt almost felt like taking people home in a way,ā Naland says of the trip, which took nearly 30 people to the Catskills. Together, they combined Nalandās project management background with Fioriās planning skills and previous experience as a camp counselor. āI went to be a counselor at this one camp upstate the year that I was coming out, and that was such a perfect time and space for me to be like, āOh, I can be my whole self here,āā Fiori says. They found a campsite, organized caravans, planned meals for the weekend, and put together an itinerary to guide them. This included everything from a field day to a movie night, and by some stroke of gay luck, woodchopping. āThat was the gayest shit we did all weekend. It was literally like a butch-off,ā Naland says.
āWeāre kind of getting back to our roots (not to be) dramatic when [weāre] camping. Like youāre trying to fill your basic needs, youāre trying to make sure that youāre fed, that youāre warm, that youāre not getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.ā
This article is part of OUTās July-Aug 2026 print issue, on newsstands July 7. Support queer media and subscribe ā or download the issue now through Apple News+, Zinio, Nook, or PressReader.







