“In the wilderness of life, we can never be too prepared." - Troop Beverly Hills
I never went to camp as a kid. Wait, actually, scratch that. I did attend a volleyball camp for a week in Pennsylvania. I hated it. It marked my first real time away from home, and I cried every night. I was also terrible at volleyball. Regardless, that camp doesn’t count. What I’m referring to is the quintessential Girl Scouts kind of camp—days filled with crafting, making friendship bracelets, and swimming in lakes. I’m talking about the idyllic kind of camp depicted in movies like Troop Beverly Hills or The Parent Trap, where you forge lifelong friendships, maybe meet your secret twin, and eagerly anticipate annual reunions.
When I first heard about Camp Chateau a few months ago, it sounded like the French vacation of my dreams: an adult sleepaway camp set in a medieval French chateau in the Quercy region of France. It promised arts and crafts, wellness activities, and daily meals prepared by local French chefs. Record scratch.
The website described the camp as follows: “Spend mornings enjoying fun activities, afternoons relaxing by the pool, and evenings sipping wine and sharing stories with women from all walks of life. We encourage you to curate your own adventure and select activities that most interest you.”
I immediately envisioned traveling to the French countryside and making crêpes, going horseback riding, eating picnic lunches filled with gooey Brie on warm, crisp baguettes with new pals, all while listening to Edith Piaf, sipping rosé, and, of course, wearing a striped shirt and beret. (We all binged Emily in Paris during the pandemic, right?) The intense wanderlust I felt was palpable and it seemed like I had found my north star.
Recommended Fodor’s Video
You see, I had a baby in 2021, a year and a half into the COVID lockdown, and experienced a less-than-optimal recovery from the pregnancy. (The little one is fantastic, but my post-“geriatric pregnancy” body is a work in progress.) I’ve been itching to embark on a solo trip, partially to reconnect with the person I was before the baby arrived, and also to explore a world that I’ve only been watching on TV since March 2020. I needed a place to rediscover myself, so when I informed my husband that I’d found the perfect destination for rejuvenation, he enthusiastically responded, “Book your ticket to France.”
“Khaki Wishes and Cookie Dreams!”
Bags packed, I was ready to become a Wilderness Girl. (A special shout out to my fellow Troop Beverly Hills enthusiasts who, like me, find themselves humming “Cookie Time” each season when Girl Scout cookies go on sale.)
A two-hour drive from Toulouse, through the Midi-Pyrenees region of France, situated in the small, provincial town of Bédeur, there it was: Camp Chateau. As I walked through the estate’s 13th-century wrought iron gates, I felt full of wonder and childhood delight.
INSIDER TIPWhile you’re in Toulouse, stay at the dreamy boutique Maison SOCLO, steps away from the Capitole district. Close to art (Musee des Augustins), fab gastronomical delights (Molette, Les P’tits Fayots), and Metro stops for easy city exploration (the mechanical performance-focused Halle de La Machine is wholly unique), you’ll get a locals feel for “La Ville Rose.” Plus there’s A/C for those hot summer nights.
We campers all found our assigned “bunks”—chic twin beds adorned with draped fabrics and tassels—and enjoyed Kir Royale aperitifs. Luckily for myself and my five other très magnifique roommates in bunk “Et Voilà,” sleeping masks and earplugs sat on our beds to help with the shared college dorm vibes. (I only snore when I’m sick, I promise!).
INSIDER TIPCamp Chateau has limited under bed storage and is not close to a CVS, so pack lightly, yet efficiently. Travel with a good carry on (Samsonite Armage 2), and don’t forget to bring bug spray (Avon’s Skin So Soft Bug Guard Plus), sunscreen (Supergoop PLAY Everyday Lotion), durable sandals for water activities (Teva Hurricane XLT2), leave-in conditioner for easy air-dry hair (Redken Moisture Restore), and a sturdy tote or backpack to hold your flea market finds (Baggu sport backpack).
Once all 26 campers (ranging in age from 28 to 66) had arrived, we excitedly shared our first French farm-to-table meal together (boeuf Bourguignon) in the Grand Hall. Our dining room had a massive stone fireplace embellished with crests, a Balustrade terrace, and a medieval chandelier in the center of the space complete with bobéches—candleholders and drip pans for the wax. It felt a little like the Red Wedding episode in Game of Thrones—though with far less death.
As we learned about each other’s origins and reasons for venturing to French summer camp—some were about to start new jobs, others experiencing solo travel for the first time, and a few simply taking an epic holiday with BFFs—the bonding happened instantaneously. And at that moment, I knew that by the end of this experience, I would be leaving with much more than a stamp in my passport. This was the real camp I was looking for!
“What an Adventure! Isn’t Nature Fabulous, Girls?”
Sign-up activity sheets plastered the walls, allowing campers to choose from a daily selection of six to nine electives, including candle making, watercolor painting, wine tasting, and an intro to French class for the overachievers. I quickly signed up for jam-making, kayaking, and paint and sip (I was certain that Camp Chateau’s version of this might actually feature good wine and the art wouldn’t end up in the trash). I also wanted to keep some slots open to wander spontaneously.
The days were filled to the brim with creativity and curiosity. On my first full day, I got my feet (and body) wet kayaking down the Célé Lot in the rain. This was my rainy Moonrise Kingdom moment, except my khaki dress was still in my suitcase. Our group traversed the river together, making sure each person made it through the bends, using simple thumbs up signals to communicate. For a novice kayaker who’s never been in a boat solo before, I left the excursion feeling like the Queen of Versailles (the real one, not Jackie Siegel). My second day was spent foraging for lavender and taking a class on clay. It was just the therapeutic art session I didn’t know I needed—all the sciatic nerve pain I’d had since childbirth just melted away. Mon dieu!
Call me Julia Child, because I made jam—ahem—confiture, using plums grown on site. (Surprise, friends, you’re all getting jam this holiday season.) We played Bob Marley’s “Jammin,” as one does when making jam in France, and made enough to cover everyone’s breakfast baguettes and croissants for the duration of the trip.
I wrote in my journal overlooking the rolling hills (because France), and enjoyed daily pique-niques (the French say it so much better) with my bunkmates. A trip to nearby Figeac and its weekly market made the experience even more unique, allowing us to imbibe in aligot (cheese and potatoes), the most spectacular heirloom tomatoes, and canelés. I felt like Belle from Beauty & the Beast and came a little too close to breaking out in “Bonjour” to every vendor I visited.
We earned actual patches for each completed activity (my Girl Scout dreams are coming true!)—I was especially proud to receive one for “wine tasting.” Just sign me up to join the Scoutisme Féminin Français, maintenant! The nights were spent in pajamas, chatting with the other women about parenthood, work, and what’s important in life, while sunrise yoga granted me a slice of morning tranquility that I haven’t seen in recent times with a toddler running about. The only thing that was missing was a group rendition of “Kumbaya.”
I had always longed for an experience like this as a kid. And when I left, I took with me a new troop of women who saw me for who I was. They appreciated me for what I brought to the very antique table, and these ladies unexpectedly broadened my sense of empowerment. (I’m not crying, you’re crying!)
After momming so hard the past two years, taking this time for myself rekindled a newfound sense of identity and reinforced my gratitude for returning to my little family qui j’aime. (I promise you I didn’t take that intro French class.) While I didn’t reunite with a long-lost twin and swap locations like Lindsay Lohan, I did find myself again through crafts, camaraderie, and a whole lot of champagne.
Camp Chateau is currently booking their 2024 season, and discounts are available for groups of six or more. Grab your squad, meet me in France next summer, and let the annual reunions commence.
What a cool trip! I need to check this place out.