
What to expect
You'll pitch your own tent, and you won't do it alone. Dinner is at 5:45. Nobody is going to test you on your knots.
The most common thing we hear from families before their first trip is some version of: I want to come, but I do not really know what I am signing up for.
Fair. So here is the whole thing, without the marketing gloss. An Outdoorithm Collective trip is four to twelve family units, usually somewhere between twenty and forty people, sharing one big group campsite in a California state or national park for three or four days over a long weekend. Most of those people are families with young kids. A large share of them have barely camped before, or never have.
We haul the gear in on a rented truck and we bring all the food. What we do not do is set your tent up for you. We show you how, we stand there while you do it, and you leave knowing how to pitch a tent. The exceptions are if you are physically unable or you roll in after dark, in which case it will already be standing.
That is the whole balance of this place. One of our mantras is Nobody Solos, and it does not mean somebody does it for you. It means you will never be left staring at a pile of poles wondering what you have gotten yourself into. There will be more hands than you need.
Filmed on our Fourth of July trip. The campers do the talking.
Trips run three to four days, usually over a holiday weekend so working families can actually make them.

Day one
Pull in between 2 and 4pm and somebody walks over before you have your car door closed. Your canvas wall tent is waiting, and you are going to put it up — with someone alongside you showing you how, and as many extra hands as it takes. Cots go in, a rug on the floor, string lights overhead. It takes about twenty minutes and it is the first thing you will be quietly proud of. Your kids will find the other kids within about four minutes and you will not see them again until dinner. Around 5:45 we eat together and gather for an opening circle, where everyone says their name and how many times they have camped before. Plenty of people say zero.


The middle days
There is always a hike, and there is always an easier version of that hike. A flat mile around the lake or two thousand feet up a mountain, both count. There is water most trips, and the kids will be in it longer than you think is reasonable. There is a craft table, a soccer ball, a fishing lesson, somebody reading a book with their feet in the creek. You can join everything or none of it. Nobody keeps score.

Every night
Dinner is communal and it is a lot of food. Then the fire gets going and the string lights come on. Every trip has at least one s'more night, and it is reliably the highlight of the entire weekend if you are under twelve: graham crackers, chocolate, and a long argument about whether a marshmallow should be golden or on fire. The kids orbit until they crash. What the adults tell us afterward, more than the hikes and more than the views, is that the late-night campfire conversation is the thing they think about on the drive home.

Last morning
A slow breakfast, then we break down camp together, which goes fast when thirty people do it. Before anyone drives off we stand in a circle and each share one moment from the trip that stuck. It is consistently the part people say they did not expect and would not skip.

These go up at every camp. They are not rules, they are permission slips, and each one came out of a specific trip where something went sideways.
“The mantras removed a lot of pressure. They allowed me to just show up and take up space.”
The forecast said atmospheric river. We threw the gear in the van at 5pm and went. It rained, and the morning after was the stillest either of us had felt in months.
A 50 mph windstorm hit Joshua Tree at 2am. In the morning, over pancakes, everybody traded their version of the night. You could feel that something had shifted.
A campervan slid into the river bank at Humboldt. The engineer, the doctor, the social worker and the actor all grabbed shovels. When it came free we celebrated like we had won something.
Let them get muddy. Let them eat the thing they dropped. Let them fall asleep in their hiking clothes. Small scrapes now build capable humans later.
Eyes down and polite nods is the old habit. Lingering at the viewpoint, talking to strangers, existing without apology, that is the new one. These lands are already yours.
















Filmed on the trail and around camp. No script, no prompting.
Charmaine on the bear
Her biggest fear about camping was bears. Then the group watched one from the trail at Kings Canyon, and something rewired.
The kids review the trip
We pointed a camera at the kids at Kings Canyon and asked what they thought. They had a lot to say.
Michelle at Kings Creek Falls
Fifteen seconds, caught partway up the Kings Creek Falls trail in Lassen Volcanic National Park.
The practical half
Everything below is what campers actually ask us in the group chat before every trip. Bookmark this part.
Do not have a sleeping bag? Say so when you RSVP. We would rather lend you one than have you skip the trip.

You are the person these trips are built for. You do not need gear, experience, or a plan. You need a sleeping bag and a car with enough gas to get there.
“From set up to meal time, I felt more and more comfortable as folks connected, provided support, and helped with everything I didn't know, which felt like a lot. My favorite thing overall honestly are the late night camp fire chats. By the final morning I was ready for the next trip.”
“My first trip I was beyond excited. And also not very prepared! Thank goodness Outdoorithm Collective provides a comfortable tent for families, as the first time I brought a backpacking tent for two. IYKYK.”
Ask it. No question is too basic, and we would much rather answer it now than have you talk yourself out of coming.
Trips are free to families. See upcoming trips or read more in our FAQ.