Adult queer summer camps are turning nostalgia into community

For many people, summer camp is tied to childhood. For some LGBTQ+ adults, that feeling is now being recreated on purpose — with more community, more freedom, and, in some cases, a lot more queer joy.

A growing number of adult LGBTQ+ summer camps and weekend retreats are offering that experience across the Northeast and beyond. Some have been around for decades, while others are only now getting started. The settings vary, but the appeal is similar: time outdoors, structured activities, and a chance to spend time with other queer people in a space that feels affirming.

‘Camp’ Camp remains a longtime draw

One of the longest-running examples is ‘Camp’ Camp, an all-inclusive weeklong gathering in central Maine that has hosted LGBTQ+ adults for nearly 30 years. According to Kayla Pekkala, the camp’s director of social media and communications, she was drawn to it as an adult because it felt like “one of the only places I could really go be a kid.”

Each summer, the camp welcomes more than 200 people ages 21 to 84 from across the country, with some attendees coming from abroad. Activities include archery, swimming, horseback riding, pottery, and Broadway dance, and the week ends with a “no talent, talent” show.

Pekkala said the setting has also created an unusually broad mix of ages. “It was my first time being in a truly intergenerational community,” she said.

The camp’s staying power is reflected in its return rate: 75 percent of campers come back year after year.

Dyke Camp expands in its second year

Dyke Camp was founded by Nic Pieta in 2025 after, Pieta said, believing “queer people should be able to have fun in the woods together.” The event began as a 75-person weekend at Camp Singers in upstate New York. In 2026, it has more than doubled in size and is moving to Camp Ramblewood in Maryland.

The camp is geared toward dykes and includes programming such as yoga, swimming, and shibari, or Japanese rope bondage. Pieta also said the retreat is meant to create room for queer people to relax outdoors and, for some, “be naked, topless in a pond or sauna or pool.”

Auggie Enzer, another NYC-based organizer helping plan the getaway, said the response has been strong. “In our feedback form, so many people said that Dyke Camp was the best weekend of their lives,” Enzer said.

Sappy Trips builds a new queer getaway

Liz Gonzalez is hosting her first edition of Sappy Trips this year, a queer weekend getaway upstate. Gonzalez, who describes herself as the designated “planner in my friend groups,” said she had wanted to launch something like it for years.

After coming out at 22, attending culinary school, earning her MBA, and going through a lesbian breakup, Gonzalez said she wanted to be “very intentional about seeking out queer community and making queer friends.” She launched the queer travel brand at the end of April, and said its goal is to help people “really just take time out of the city and foster community with like-minded people.”

The initial feedback form for Sappy Trips drew more than 200 responses.

Friend-led camping also has its place

Not every outing is a formal camp. Camp Carabiner, a weekend getaway organized by Cailyn Fiori and Alice Naland, brought nearly 30 people to the Catskills.

The two former roommates have organized events before, including work with Dykes and Dolls, a NYC-based community organization, and Naland’s annual Homocoming party, which reimagines a classic high school dance with a queer twist.

Naland said the trip felt personal. “It almost felt like taking people home in a way,” she said.

Fiori said her own experience as a camp counselor helped shape the event. “I 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, ‘Oh, I can be my whole self here,’” she said.

The weekend included a field day, a movie night, and woodchopping — which Naland jokingly described as “the gayest shit we did all weekend.”

Across these trips, the broader theme is less about recapturing childhood than about creating a setting where queer adults can connect, recharge, and spend time outside the pressures of work and city life.

“We’re kind of getting back to our roots,” Naland said. “Like you’re trying to fill your basic needs, you’re trying to make sure that you’re fed, that you’re warm, that you’re not getting eaten alive by mosquitoes.”

This article is part of OUT’s July-Aug 2026 print issue, on newsstands July 7.