I stepped into my 200-square-foot Jyubako suite at Snow Peak Campfield in Long Beach, Washington, with only passing familiarity with the Japanese outdoor gear brand that owns this new glamping and camping retreat. By the time I left two days later, after relaxing hours spent soaking in the on-site Ofuro Spa, I wanted to buy every bit of Snow Peak gear around me: the titanium mugs from which I drank my coffee each morning, the collapsible metal dripper and kettle I used to brew it, the red folding chair I sat in while sipping it on the porch of my cabin. I lusted after the titanium chopsticks and sporks, the packable firepit that looks like an oversize version of the coffee dripper, a carved wooden cribbage board, and Snow Peak–branded sandals.
The location
Founded in 1958 by Japanese mountaineer Yukio Yamai, Snow Peak has many retail locations in Japan and a local flagship store two hours from here in Portland, Oregon. In 2011, the brand got into the tourism space with the opening of its first branded camping experience (Campfield) in its home prefecture of Niigata, and it has since rolled out a handful of other locations across Japan. This summer, the design-minded company debuted its first North American Campfield on the site of a former RV park.
About three hours from Seattle, the rugged Long Beach Peninsula, in the southwestern corner of Washington, is known for crabbing, razor clamming, kite flying, and storm-watching on the beach. Despite its abundant natural beauty (old-growth forests, lakes, marshes, sandy beaches), it might seem like a surprising place to open a year-round camping and glamping resort, given that even in summer, the average high temperature is below 70°F. But as a heat wave gripped much of the country, I welcomed the cool mist that enveloped my alfresco dinner of local Dungeness crab, which I had picked up from nearby sustainable seafood shop Tre-Fin Day Boat Seafood and cooked on the induction burner of my Jyubako suite.
The Ofuro Spa is inspired by traditional Japanese bathhouses, with an outdoor hot pool and a sauna made from hinoki cypress wood.
Courtesy of Snow Peak Long Beach Campfield
The accommodations
So what exactly is a Campfield? Snow Peak’s marketing materials refer to it as an extension of the brand. I’d describe it more as a forward-thinking concept store. Snow Peak pushes Campfields as a way to demonstrate the power of camping to reconnect people with nature and community—but it also shows just how much easier and more comfortable it is to do that with a $1,900 tent.
“When you see a couple of pieces on the shelf at REI, you don’t really get it,” summed up general manager Josh Simpson as he showed me around. But here, almost every physical product campers see or use comes from Snow Peak and that creates an immersive experience with an inherently cool brand.
To be clear, there is no sales pitch or pressure. If you arrived unaware of the connection, you wouldn’t immediately know that every set-up tent, every dish in the Jyubako suites, and every firepit outside the little shop and gathering space all come from the same brand that owns and operates the entire resort.
Outdoorsy types can try out Snow Peak gear, such as tents, while at the Campfield.
Courtesy of Snow Peak Long Beach Campfield
Interacting with the brand’s equipment isn’t even a requirement: There are 48 “Field Sites,” which start at $40 a night and are open campsites, meaning that guests bring all of their own gear, just like at other camping destinations. They still get to use the large individual showers in the bathhouse and have access to the Ofuro Spa, a charred-cedar building with a hot soaking tub, a cold plunge pool, and a hinoki cypress sauna. And they get to participate in any events, like the bird-watching walk I joined on Saturday afternoon. (If they need anything else, guests can rent Snow Peak gear by the item.)
The next step up is a “Tent Suite.” These start at $120 a night and supply everything a camper needs except food, a sleeping bag, and a towel. Each site comes fully set up with the Land Lock tent ($1,900), which has both a sleeping area and a “living room” section. It’s stocked with tables, chairs, lanterns, cots, sleeping pads, supplies for cooking and a campfire, plus a battery for charging electronics. The star of the show is the Iron Grill Table Kitchen Set ($600), a modular camp stove and sink that is one of Snow Peak’s signature items. It can be expanded into many permutations; one of the most elaborate is displayed in the camp store—a combination Snow Peak shop, gourmet mini-mart, and coffee bar.
That one includes a flat-top grill, multiple burners, cutting boards, eating areas, two of the four different heights, and more. “It’s a LEGO set for the outdoors type,” joked Simpson. I came to the camp store to buy ice, firewood, fancy local and Japanese snacks, and Snow Peak’s branded local beer. But mostly, I kept coming to ogle all the Snow Peak gear.
I stayed in a Jyubako suite (starting at $130 a night), the “living box” designed for Snow Peak by Japanese architect Kengo Kuma, who’s best known for projects like Tokyo’s Olympic stadium and the Ace Hotel Kyoto. The tiny kitchenette (a two-burner induction stove and sink), platform queen-size bed, air-conditioning, and private bathroom give it creature comforts, and the many windows and sliding doors—including one facing the couch (Snow Peak’s $970 modular futon)—allow for easy access to the suite’s outdoor space and give the feel of camping.
The sleek Jyubako Suites are designed by Japanese starchitect Kengo Kuma.
Courtesy of Snow Peak Long Beach Campfield
The experience
On Friday evening, the camp hosted live music, but I skipped it in favor of a trip to the Ofuro, which guests can sign up to use for a single two-hour increment each day. The final session of the night (7 to 9 p.m.) is adults-only, and, on a summer evening with the resort sold out of every space, a little rowdier than “spa” implies. I returned on Sunday morning for the first session of the day (9 to 11 a.m.) and was the only person in the hot soaking tub that looks out over a grassy area toward the pond. To one side, the roomy sauna warms visitors up just enough for a quick dip in the cold plunge pool.
Somewhere deep in my brain, the subtle marketing clicked: I soaked away my troubles at the spa and comfortably relaxed in nature, and these were the tangible products that allowed me to do that so effortlessly. With the tent suites, visitors to the region can camp without lugging three suitcases of gear on a plane across the country; big groups with varying levels of camping equipment can gather.
It seems counterintuitive to declare a brand selling the “Jumbo Camping Bucket” I stashed my gear in at the spa for $70 a paragon of accessibility, but the Campfield appeals in a way that welcomes even sporadic outdoors people to the fan base: I don’t camp in the rain enough to justify spending $550 on a flame-proof tarp to cover my campfire, but I can still enjoy the high-quality comfort for a weekend.
