A Love Letter to Yuru Camp (and camping itself)

When I’m feeling alone, or stressed, or otherwise down, I often turn to Yuru Camp. I doubt this is a surprise to anyone familiar with the anime or manga. Yuru Camp, often localized as Laid-Back Camp, has an almost absurdly simple premise: “some girls go camping”. And if you were to ask a fan of Yuru Camp to describe it in one word, “cozy” is almost certainly the answer you’d get. Some may even pull out the Japanese word “iyashikei” (癒し系), which often translates to “healing”. This sort of thing is not terribly unique. Anime and manga are filled with relaxing stories, often constructed as a cozy reprieve from the harsh realities of salary work. There are plenty of Western films and shows that bring a comfy vibe, especially those centered around the holiday season. Heck, Twitch and YouTube livestreams are now where a lot of people turn to for comfort. There’s no shortage of cozy media. Yet, despite all of the options available, Yuru Camp is the one I turn to nearly every time. In one way or another, Yuru Camp is special to me.

In some ways, the reason why is quite simple: I love camping, and Yuru Camp deeply reminds me of it. I was in Boy Scouts for the majority of my childhood, and one of the reasons why was that I thoroughly enjoyed the camping and backpacking trips I went on. And, as a result, I have a decent amount of experience in the outdoors. So, one thing that honestly really surprised me when I first watched Yuru Camp was the realistic way it depicted camping. One of the very first scenes of the show has Rin, a seasoned camper, setting up her tent. And we get, in a fully animated sequence, shots of Rin laying out a tarp, unfurling her tent, assembling the tent poles, attaching the tent to the poles with a combination of hooks, clips, and cables, laying out the rainfly, and staking it with a rock. Or, in other words, we get a complete, step-by-step list of instructions for how to pitch a tent, all without a single line of dialogue. And that’s not even to mention all of the narrated instructions and tips sprinkled throughout the show. Yuru Camp has a lot to teach, such as how to start a campfire, the pros and cons of various sleeping bag materials, how to safely split wood, or how to build a DIY alcohol stove—and why you may not want to use one. And most importantly, Yuru Camp includes a plethora of camp cooking recipes to follow. Some friends and I even cooked sukiyaki on a campout after seeing it on the show.

Yuru Camp’s depiction of camping is honestly quite grounded, containing the sorts of details that can really only come from an author who’s an avid camper themselves. Sometimes, it takes the form of the exasperation expressed by the characters when they look at the often eyewateringly expensive prices of camping gear. And, I mean, what other series like this has an entire companion book on the equipment the characters use? Sometimes, it’s a lot more subtle—one detail I recently noticed was that Toba-sensei, the girls’ club advisor, wears glasses while camping, but (presumably) wears contacts elsewhere. And, yeah, I know a lot of people that do exactly that—with all of the dirt and dust that exist outside, contacts can be a bad idea. But it’s not a detail that Afro, Yuru Camp’s author, had to include. But they did, and I really appreciate it.

The grounded nature of Yuru Camp is also deeply ingrained into how it captures the vibe of camping. The realistic depiction of camping itself certainly contributes. But beyond that, Yuru Camp’s coziness is elevated by its presentation. Backgrounds are rendered with painterly detail, less focused on a dramatic romanticization of nature than in capturing what’s truly there. The locations featured in Yuru Camp exist in real life, of course, and I find it absolutely adds to the show’s groundedness. This is an aspect of the show that was only further emphasized in season three, after animation was moved to studio 8-bit, with studio Creative Freaks painting the show’s background art. And I mean, just look at it. It’s beautiful.

Yuru Camp’s soundtrack also contributes a ton to its immaculately cozy vibe. Soft guitars evoke the image of huddling around a campfire. Whistled melodies contribute a lighthearted, carefree tone. Tracks like “kyanpujounothema mososuko” (キャンプ場のテーマ～本栖湖～) build a sense of wonder, while tracks like “solo camp no susume” (ソロキャン△のすすめ) have the ability to melt my heart whenever they play. I don’t know what else to say. It feels like camping. It feels like home.

I always get a certain sense of nostalgia from Yuru Camp. I guess that’s because when I watch it, I’m reminded of my own experiences camping, and how much simpler my life was then. The ordinary stressors of my life today—school, job applications, everything else—they don’t matter—don’t exist—on a camping trip. When the girls wander into a restaurant from the scent of its food or make an impromptu onsen trip, it captures the feeling of freedom you get in the outdoors, a place where there’s so much less you’re forced to do. It captures the joy of aimlessness. Camping is in many ways a brief escape from society, and Yuru Camp is not only able to realistically depict the motions and technicalities of camping, it authentically recreates the vibe of camping, bringing that brief escape to video form.

There’s a specific feeling I get at the end of a camping trip that’s a little hard to describe. I’m absolutely filled with exhaustion, but at the same time I feel refreshed, renewed. I feel like at least part of this is from the fact that being in nature, disconnected from the rest of the world, gives you the chance to shift your mindset a little. There are certain lessons you internalize on a camping trip, lessons that make camping more meaningful than mere escapism. A lot of these lessons are reflected in Yuru Camp, too, and to me, it makes the show refreshing in much the same way as camping itself. I’d like to discuss some of these lessons—both how I experienced them myself, and how they’re represented in Yuru Camp—because I think it’s truly important to how Yuru Camp captures the core of camping.

I was eleven years old, and it was my first time going to summer camp. Alongside earning merit badges and buying way too much candy and soda, one of the activities I participated in was a sort of “wilderness night”. In other words, a dozen or so of us were to hike to a remote part of the forest and spend the night without a tent or any other shelter. Looking back, it’s kind of insane that we were allowed to spend a night literally in the middle of the Sierras, supervised only by a couple of college-age staff members. And to be honest, I wasn’t looking forward to it then, either. I was already feeling lonely and homesick, even though my dad was with me at the summer camp. And since my dad wouldn’t be attending this adventure, I would lose my one connection to home. I’m pretty sure I cried on the outbound hike. But to this day, I’m still so glad I went. After laying out our sleeping pads and sleeping bags across the dirt, as well as an admittedly delicious meal of barbecue baked beans, the sun set, and there really wasn’t anything left to do besides sleep and stare at the sky. As the stars slowly started to show themselves, I saw something spectacular.

I had always assumed that pictures of the night sky weren’t real. That those beautiful images showcasing the brilliance of the Milky Way weren’t just exaggeration but in some way a fabrication. I mean, I grew up surrounded by light pollution. I didn’t know what night actually looked like. So, to look up to witness what appeared to be one of those pictures—to not just see it, but to be enveloped by it—it was sublime. I wish I could convey exactly what it was like.

One by one, the other scouts fell asleep—we would have to wake up at six in the morning, anyway. But I didn’t. I couldn’t help but continue to cast my sight towards the stars. Looking up, transfixed by the endless expanse of space, I felt truly and utterly alone. And it was one of the greatest feelings I have ever felt. Before I knew it, it was four o’clock, and only then did I finally drift off into sleep.

The biggest lesson I took from this experience (alongside the dire need to reduce light pollution) was the joy of appreciating solitude. Being alone doesn’t mean I have to feel lonely. I can truly enjoy myself, surrounded with solitude. I think that’s one of the greatest things about camping. It teaches you to appreciate loneliness.

Rin[1]: It’s camping all the same, but the outdoors is different when you’re alone. The things you see, the things you eat… And you get to spend time contemplating things. I think solo camping is a way to appreciate loneliness.

One of Yuru Camp’s themes is that both group activities and solo activities are fun and worth doing, something I find most apparent in Rin and Nadeshiko’s character arcs. Rin is an avid solo camper. She mostly camps during the winter, partially because it makes warm soups and onsen trips all the more pleasant, and partially because there aren’t other campers around. One night, on one of her camping trips, she encounters (and is jumpscared by) Nadeshiko. Nadeshiko, a girl with a bubbly and outgoing persona, had fallen asleep on her trip to see Mount Fuji, leaving her with no way to get home until morning. Rin shares some of her Curry Cup Noodles with Nadeshiko, who quickly falls in love with the outdoors, so much so that she immediately joins the Outdoors Activities Club at her new high school. The club is tiny, its only members besides Nadeshiko being these girls, Aki and Inuko, and their “club room” is sized accordingly. Notably, Rin is not a member, despite attending the same school. In fact, she makes an active effort to avoid Nadeshiko and the Outdoors Activities Club, not wanting to deal with the socialization, though Rin’s friend Ena ensures the socialization happens anyway.

Inuko: Do you have a tent?
Ena: Oh, no, no. I asked that girl over there.
Rin: Hey...[2]

Season one has the sort of plot progression you’d expect from a show like this. Rin and Nadeshiko become friends, and Rin eventually learns to enjoy camping with others, even joining the Outdoors Activities Club on their outings. A lot of anime, both cozy and not, tend to focus on the importance and value of spending time with others, and Yuru Camp is no exception. Though, I find it differs in a couple of notable ways, such as the fact that Rin’s tendency to solo camp is never treated as a negative trait by the show. She isn’t someone that needs to abandon her loner ways and learn to embrace the group dynamic. While she grows to enjoy group camping, simultaneously, she still solo camps all the same. And these solo camp scenes are given the same comfy cozy treatment as the rest of the show; the same beautiful landscapes, the same heartwarming soundtrack. Yuru Camp sees just as much value in being alone as it does being in a group. And I don’t think that it’s any more clear than in how Nadeshiko grows in season two.

Nadeshiko[3]: I love going camping with everyone, but I want to try solo camping like Rin-chan, too.

When Rin talks about why she still enjoys solo camping, even though she now enjoys group camping, the idea of “appreciating loneliness” sticks with Nadeshiko. So, she decides to learn from Rin and go on a solo camping trip herself. She really enjoys it, and this scene, where she looks at the night landscape, tucked in a sleeping bag, is honestly one of the coziest of the entire show.

Nadeshiko[4]: From now on, I want to alternate between solo camping and group camping.

Nadeshiko’s arc in many ways can be seen as the reverse of Rin’s arc. While Rin learns to enjoy group camping, Nadeshiko learns to enjoy solo camping. At the same time, however, they both learn the same thing: both group activities and solo activities can and should be appreciated.

I, of course, love to do stuff with my friends. But being an introvert with sometimes subpar social skills often puts me in the position of being alone, something I’ve been subconscious about for as long as I can remember. What both my experiences camping and Yuru Camp remind me is that it’s okay to be alone sometimes, and I find that truly valuable.

A few years after my “wilderness night” experience, I was once again at a summer camp, this time working towards the Wilderness Survival merit badge. One of the requirements for the merit badge, and therefore one of the activities we’d partake in for this class, was not unlike the “wilderness night”. Once again, we’d be hiking out to a spot away from the campgrounds and spending the night under the stars. The difference, however, was that we couldn’t bring items like sleeping bags. Instead, we were to build our own shelter out of whatever we can find, and emergency supplies like space blankets, thin sheets of plastic that effectively reflect body heat. We were learning how to survive, of course. One of my friends was taking the class with me, so we decided to work together on a shared shelter. We each had a space blanket, so we decided to use one as a shared blanket, and the other for the roof of our so-called “lean-to”.

Night eventually fell, and we went to sleep. I woke up in the middle of the night, cold. No longer was I covered by the warmth of our shared space blanket. My friend had hogged it all for himself! With the slightest hint of annoyance, I pulled the blanket back and fell asleep again. Again, I woke up in the middle of the night, cold. No longer was I covered by the warmth of our “shared” space blanket…it had happened again! With a bit more annoyance, I re-re-retrieved the blanket back and once again fell asleep. In the middle of the night, I woke up again, still cold. Now a habit, I tugged at the blanket. It didn’t budge. Huh. I tugged a bit harder. Nothing. I peeked over, only to realize that my friend was now lying atop part of the blanket. Oh. Even though I most definitely should’ve, I didn’t want to wake him up and bother him. So, I sulked. Maybe the rage would keep me warm. It didn’t.

Minutes passed. What had started as snappy but survivable soon shifted to a shiver. At some point, I stood up, tore our roof off, and restored its intended use as a blanket. Because space blankets work by reflecting body heat, I didn’t feel immediate warmth. In fact, I didn’t feel any warmth for several minutes. Slowly but eventually, I was finally returning to a comfortable body temperature, and I was finally able to sleep.

The next morning, as I was reluctantly getting up, my friend told me, “I had trouble sleeping last night ‘cause you kept stealing the blanket.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Be prepared” is the Scout motto, and it’s one of the most important virtues to learn in Scouting. Things don’t always go to plan—our plan to share a single blanket, for example, absolutely did not work out. The value of preparedness is that it allows for things to go awry. Hypothermia is no joke, but because we each brought space blankets, what I got from the experience is a fun anecdote, not some sort of physical or emotional trauma. In other words, when you’re prepared, it’s okay for things to go off plan.

Going back to Yuru Camp, this theme is prevalent throughout the series. In terms of preparedness, I’ve already mentioned the ways in which Yuru Camp realistically discusses camping gear and instructions, which serve to prepare both the girls and the viewers for outdoor adventures. And it’s pretty frequent for things not to go to plan in Yuru Camp. When Rin is traveling to Mount Takabocchi, her onsen plans are hit with a roadblock when the onsen she visits is closed for the season. And that’s not even to mention the literal roadblock she faced on her trip to Kamiina. Perhaps my favorite instance of foiled plans takes place during a Outdoors Activities Club New Year’s excursion. After watching the first sunrise of the year from Mount Minobu, Aki plans for the group to the village of Takaori, where they can witness Diamond Fuji.

Narrator: Diamond Fuji. So called for its diamond-like appearance, it refers to the sun rising behind the volcanic peak of Mount Fuji. And because of Mount Fuji’s height, the sunrise occurs later than usual.
Aki: Sunrise at Mount Minobu was at seven. Diamond Fuji will be visible from Takaori in Fujikawa City at 7:50.[5]

The group races to the viewpoint, making it just barely by 7:50 and…

Toba-sensei: It’s...way up there already.
Aki: Oh, the Diamond Fuji sunrise was at 7:20. Whoops![5]

The vast majority of mishaps in Yuru Camp are treated in a carefree, often lighthearted way. Part of this is due to the fact that the girls have the requisite gear and knowledge to thrive in the outdoors—they’re generally pretty well prepared. Generally.

When Inuko, Ena, and Aki went winter camping in Omama, their initially chill trip turned unexpectedly chilly. They had neglected to check the weather forecast, so they weren’t properly prepared for a temperature far below freezing, their issues compounding as their phones all die from the cold. What proceeds is one of the only stressful scenes in the whole show.

Inuko[6]: I think we got in a little over our heads once we started getting used to winter camping…

With inadequate gear, no firewood, and no way of contacting home, this scene shows the sort of danger one may subject themselves to if they go camping unprepared. Though the girls are luckily bailed out by some friendly campers nearby, as well as quick action from Rin and Toba-sensei, the message is clear.

Toba-sensei[6]: You need to do your research and be thoroughly prepared. Winter camping can be very dangerous. This could have been an incident. […] I’m so glad you’re all safe.

Preparedness is one of the most important aspects of camping, and being prepared means that mishaps need not sow anxiety. Yuru Camp makes preparedness a core component of its story, further bringing the experience of camping to the page or screen.

Perhaps the pinnacle of my Scouting career was the expedition I made to Philmont. Philmont is an area of forest in New Mexico, owned by the Boy Scouts of America, where I was to embark on a backpacking trip with other scouts in my troop. For ten days, we’d live only off what we could carry on our own backs, hiking from campsite to campsite. I was truly excited for the trip—books like Hatchet and My Side of the Mountain, as well as my aforementioned nights under the stars, left me with a romanticized idea of wilderness survival. This excitement continued even through our time at base camp, the Tooth of Time rock formation welcoming us to the forest that would be our home. And though I was thoroughly prepared in all tangible ways, my trip would be off to a rocky emotional start.

In hindsight, it’s kind of obvious that I would get homesick, especially considering the ways in which I had to adjust to my new life in the outdoors. It wasn’t easy work. From tying bear bags to managing our drinkable water to the hiking itself, there was a lot to do, and at first, it was honestly overwhelming. Though, what ultimately broke me was learning how we were to finish our meals.

Guide: You don’t wanna be dumping any chunks of food in the sumps, so before you clean your bowl, pour a bit of water in, swirl it around, and chug! I call it the “human sump”.

This—this is my life now.

For the first few nights, I would cry to myself in my tent, the thought of slurping soaked snacks seared upon my skull. Faster than I realized, though, my mood shifted upward. I’m not even sure why. Maybe it was the sight of the increasingly stunning landscapes I saw as we scaled the mountains. Maybe it was the growing camaraderie among the crew. Or, maybe it was simply my perspective. The homesickness I originally felt turned to a pleasant sense of solitude, as I became enamored by the beautiful silence of the outdoors. The palette of tasks we had to do everyday turned from a source of stress to a source of peace, because if we tie our bear bags and we manage our water, our water will be plentiful and our bear attacks won’t.

Ultimately, Philmont was a trip of adventures and misadventures for all of us. Between sleep-deprived singing, flooding tents, and a surprise attack of sleet, there was no shortage of memorable moments. And when we finally reached the end of our journey, the sense of accomplishment we shared was unforgettable. The expedition was tough, but worth it. On the bus leaving camp, a guide shared a traditional superstition.

Guide: As we drive away from Philmont, they say if you turn your head towards the Tooth of Time, you’ll come back to Philmont, sometime in your life.

I think it’s telling that every single one of us turned our heads.

Rin[7]: This isn’t working so well. I don’t want a campfire, though. They’re a pain to start, and they get so smoky, and the sparks put holes in your clothes.

Yuru Camp may be consistently comfy, but that doesn’t mean that it portrays camping as easy. Camping gear is expensive, so all of the girls work part-time to afford it. Rin’s frequent scooter trips, as vibey as they are, are frequently portrayed as incredibly exhausting for her. All of these are difficulties brought on by camping, but they’re ultimately worth the effort. The comedic tone of some of these scenes really sells it. When you can have a laugh at the situation’s expense, you know that memories are being made.

Aki: It’s more memorable when you have to struggle a little.
Inuko: That’s true, I guess. Camping’s pretty fun when you actually try it out. I want to go again.[8]

On their way to a camping trip along the Oi River, Rin and Nadeshiko’s friend Ayano visit the various suspension bridges along the river. One of the bridges, Lake Hatanagi Ootsuribashi, was painful to visit, requiring a long hike on muddy roads. Not only that, the bridge itself was narrow and wobbly, making it absolutely terrifying to cross. Later that trip, Nadeshiko cooked a dish, fashioned to resemble Lake Hatanagi. The bridge Rin and Ayano carefully crossed was represented by a chili pepper, and it was while enjoying that meal they had a realization.

Rin: Spicy!
Ayano: But so good!
Nadeshiko: Right?
Ayano: I get it. It’s like how it’s scary to cross the bridge, but it’s actually fun when you think back on it.[9]

There’s a concept I learned on another adventure: the idea that there are two types of fun. Type I Fun is fun that you have in the moment. Type II Fun isn’t fun in the moment, but when you eventually look back at those maybe miserable moments, they were fun. You just didn’t know it at the time. This is something I think about a lot. Not every struggle will be Type II Fun, of course, but it gives me hope to know that some will be.

And sometimes, it’s the difficulty itself that makes the reward all the greater. I think there’s no better proof than in how food always tastes better while camping. Because when the day’s done, and you’re exhausted and sore, there’s no better reward for your efforts than a hearty meal, no matter how plain.

Rin[10]: Was this stuff always this good?

Like how both Rin and Nadeshiko fell in love with the outdoors after eating Curry Cup Noodles, when I was at Philmont, even the simplest of stews could scrumptiously satiate my stomach, “human sump” aside.

Camping isn’t always easy, but it rewards you for your efforts, in some ways immediately, and in other ways long after the trip is over. And I think because of that, it has a way of always drawing me back.

Rin[7]: I know my face is going to dry out. I know I’m going to smell like smoke. But nothing beats this warmth.

I find it really interesting that the Yuru Camp Movie doesn’t take place in high school. Instead, it timeskips a few years, showing the cast as working adults. Sure, as an anime-original movie, it has to deviate from the source material in some way. But, high school settings are common in cozy anime for a sense of nostalgic escapism. A choice was made to grow the characters up, when they just as easily could’ve made a side story still set in high school. One of the first conflicts of the film has Rin, now a magazine editor in Nagoya, struggling to successfully pitch a story to her superiors. Other lame aspects of adulthood are also depicted.

Rin[11]: Our schedules never really line up anymore.

Why would the cozy camping anime put its viewers face-to-face with the mundane struggles of their own everyday lives? It’s as if the movie’s asking itself, “How do you apply the lessons of the show to adulthood?”

Luckily, the answer is pretty straightforward. You just kind of do. Like in the show, the movie treats both group and alone time with comforting respect.

Rin[11]: It’s been ages since I’ve had a whole weekend off. This is the best.

The movie, like the show, still teaches new recipes and skills, this time the skills learned focused more on manual labor than camping. In fact, a surprising amount of the story is just manual labor, as the girls work together to restore an abandoned patch of land into a new campsite. But even this is treated with a sense of relaxing charm, eventually paying off when the campsite is completed.

Nadeshiko[11]: We get to share the things we enjoy with other people. Then those people share it in turn. And we can make places where things like that happen all the time.

The Yuru Camp Movie takes everything great about the show and nudges you with it, reminding you that you can bring its coziness into your own life.

The best part is that it works, on me, at least.

Winter break was just beginning, and though my roommates had already headed home, I had a few more days before I could see my family and friends again. It was to snow pretty hard that night, which meant I would have to hole up alone in my apartment. Even before night fell, it got lonely pretty quickly. I knew I had to do something to feel less lonely, so I put on an episode or two of Yuru Camp. As the girls enjoyed a helping of shrimp and tomato risotto, I prepped a pot of shabu-shabu. And as Rin, alone, finished her trip home from a campout, I, alone, finished eating a bowl. Eating hotpot and watching TV isn’t anything special, but this brief moment was. Like Rin and Nadeshiko in the show, and like me during my night spent under the stars, I was at last appreciating loneliness.

And when I was taking notes for this very video on a cramped flight, hunched over my notebook as episodes played on my phone, at one point I simply wrote, “This show is making my flight less miserable.”

When I’m feeling alone, or stressed, or otherwise down, I often turn to Yuru Camp. I turn to Yuru Camp because it reminds me of all of the memories I’ve made camping, and the lessons I’ve learned from it. Because not only are its vibes immaculate, Yuru Camp has such an authentic and genuine depiction of camping, transcending escapism. There’s a lot to be stressed about these days, and that makes a series as healing and comforting as Yuru Camp very valuable to me. There truly is a lot to it, as seemingly simple of a show it is. And even if it’s not groundbreaking in the ways it relaxes, its ability to evoke my own experiences is what makes it truly special.