When I first learned that adult summer camps existed, I was intrigued. As we get older, social gatherings often center around meals and drinks, but less often around lighthearted play and building community. My mind instantly created scenes of my adult friends and I playing tug-of-war or doing arts and crafts. It was quickly followed up, however, with, "I'd only ever go with a group of friends."
I'm a lot pickier about who I spend my time with as an adult and admittedly a lot more reserved. As a kid, and even as a teenager, it's common to be sent off to summer camp with a bunch of kids you don't know. You're expected to go make friends and try new activities, and in retrospect, the fact that your parents sent you makes it OK.
So, while I loved the idea of tapping back into my inner child, it felt a little pathetic to search out the experience as an adult. What does it say about me that I have to seek out opportunities to meet new people and have fun?
Truth be told, most of my good friends live in other countries, and after moving to a neighboring state two years ago, some of the friends I thought I was close with quietly drifted away. The physical distance is especially hard when I want to grab brunch with a close friend and my best option is FaceTime. The emotional distance from the people I thought were my friends was torturous. I'm not afraid to say that I desperately wanted new friends — I just didn't want to give that energy off.
But an opportunity arose to spend a weekend with Camp Social, a women's-only, three-day sleepaway camp in Equinunk, PA. Founder Liv Schreiber says she started it because she realized making friends as an adult felt harder than it should, which deeply resonated with me. "I wanted to create the kind of community I wished existed: a place where showing up alone is normal and leaving with lifelong friends is expected," she says.
So, I decided to give it a try. The truth was that I was excited to spend time by a lake, playing sports, and meeting new people. Despite some internalized insecurities, I figured the worst that could happen was I'd spend a weekend reading, writing, and enjoying solo activities. Even if I didn't click with anyone, I told myself that I was going for me. Whoever I met, I wasn't going to force connection. I was just going to be open-minded.
My first experience as a camper was boarding the bus from New York to Philly. In the line, I met a woman roughly my age who flew in from the West Coast. She works with children full-time and, after overseeing summer camps, wanted to experience it herself. On the bus, I sat next to a woman who I estimated to be in her 50s. She was energetic and spoke enthusiastically about her children, her husband, and how much she loved being a hairdresser. A friend of hers had suggested coming with her, but she wanted to experience Camp Social alone. (Baller.)
A few hours later, we arrived. The camp itself was beautiful. Walking up the path from the parking lot, I saw the large main cabin overlooking the camp's private lake, with thick forest surrounding the grounds on all sides. Scattered along the sides of the lake were traditional wood cabins. I arrived at the check-in station and was given my cabin name and location. It was the furthest from the main lodge, but conveniently located next to the pool, archery station, and the lake slide. I was in The Bloom Cabin, named after the supplements brand sponsoring this year's camp. I unpacked, met some of my cabin mates, mixed one of the hydration powders into my branded canteen, and settled in.
As endearing as I was already finding the experience to be, I was admittedly still unsure about the weekend, still feeling awkward about the whole thing and not having yet clicked with anyone there.
The first real camp immersion was dinner at the main lodge. As I walked towards it, I noticed groups had already formed: I saw duos, trios, and larger groups of tens already chatting like old friends. "Were they?" I wondered, but I'd later learn that most of them didn't know each other. In fact, Schreiber says over 90 percent of campers arrive solo.
Dinner was easy. A camp-style food buffet was available and rows of long tables filled the space. I found a seat at a round table and chatted with a few people at dinner, including Kasey, a woman who mirrored my openness and sense of adventure. We planned to meet later that evening at the social gathering in the barn. By the end of dinner, pop music started blasting and all the camp counselors stood up on their chairs, dancing alongside Schreiber. They danced through the dining room, encouraging others to stand up and put their hands together. As much as I don't love forced fun, they managed to get everyone up with smiles on their faces.
The social gathering that evening consisted of a live band, people dancing, and others enjoying the small bites and drinks being passed around. (Alcohol is one thing we didn't have at camp back in the day — but one that many were elated to have now.) I met back up with Kasey and a few others, and we started chatting over s'mores. I was delighted at how easy the conversation flowed, and I connected with Gina, a woman about my age with a bubbly personality and enough energy to light up a room. As the sun went down, some stayed to drink and dance, but I ventured off to the snack bar to stock up before getting comfortable on the yard to watch "Cheaper By The Dozen."
The second day was full of activities. I'd already identified people I enjoyed spending time with, and over breakfast we made loose plans to meet up for different activities throughout the day. There was archery, kayaking, rock climbing, arts and crafts, and JABS, a cardio-sculpt class that Gina was teaching. There was also going to be an Olympic-style competition later that day that we'd all participate in. My goal: gravitate toward fun and hang out with whoever I meet there.
And that's what I did. I slid down onto the lake slide over and over again, squealing with delight each time I zoomed toward the chilly water. I did the lake obstacle course, looking like a fool doing it but loving every second. I met up with my friends from the night before, and together, we bedazzled sunglasses we'd each wear to the '60s dance party later that evening.
When it was time for the Olympics, I put on my team color, pink, and chugged my way up to the gymnasium where it was hosted. We made up cheers, did relay races, helped each other answer riddles, and when our team lost, we cheered on the other teams before celebrating with a foam party.
