Last weekend, I went to a weekend adventure camp for adults — the kind of thing that sounds almost too good to be true (for some of us!). And honestly, it was magic.

Finlay Park, tucked away by the river in Cambridge, became a kind of portal. As I arrived I could feel something shifting — like I’d been invited to take a deep breath after holding it for far too long.

I signed up to camp as a quiet act of bravery. My world has felt smaller over the past few years — more home-based, more internal — and I knew it was time to stretch those edges a little. As an introverted only child, I often assume that big group events aren’t really “my thing.” I tell myself I prefer solitude, smaller circles, slower spaces. And while all of that is still true, what continues to surprise me is how deeply I enjoy spaces like this. Spaces where connection is intentional, where play and reflection can sit side-by-side, where I don’t have to pretend to be anything other than myself.

One of the things that made it all feel so welcoming was the way the organisers grouped people into cabins. Before camp, we filled out a short form, and they used that to match us with people who were likely to be on a similar wavelength. For our cabin, the main connector was our age — and we joked all weekend that we were the “grandma cabin.” But honestly, it was perfect. It made such a difference — arriving already feeling like you were meant to be there, like you were placed beside people you’d naturally click with. What struck me even more was that around 98% of people came by themselves — no plus ones, no familiar faces — just a shared, quiet bravery in showing up alone. And as the weekend unfolded, one theme kept coming up in conversation: how hard it is to find real connection as an adult. So many of us are craving closeness, but unsure where or how to find it. Being in a space where that connection was gently, thoughtfully facilitated felt like such a rare and meaningful gift.

And in between all the conversations and moments of connection, there was so much play. Kayaking, paddleboarding, a glow worm boat tour, journaling, team games, and flying off a giant inflatable blob or waterslide into the lake like a kid again — I surprised myself with how much I leaned into it all. Not just doing the activities, but loving them. It brought a kind of aliveness I hadn’t felt in a long time. I remembered how good it feels to be in motion, to balance on a lake (or fly into it), to be playful, to try something just for the joy of it.

That’s the part I want to hold onto now that I’m home. The part of me that says yes more easily. That gets into the water even if it’s cold. That makes time for movement, fun, and shared moments with others. The version of me that feels a little lighter, a little more open. That part is still here — and I want to keep her close.

This camp wasn’t about escaping real life — it was about remembering how to live it with more presence, more courage, and more joy. I left with a slightly bruised foot, a full heart, and a softness I didn’t realise I was missing. And a quiet promise to myself: to stay close to these parts of me. The ones that know how to laugh loudly, leap into lakes, and say yes to connection — even when it feels just a little outside my comfort zone.

From beneath the canopy,

🌻 Issy