After a long drive through national park, a giant rainbow greets you at a spectacular clearing and a two-day parade of glitter and acceptance begins.

Gaytimes became Australia's first queer camping music festival when it launched in 2016 and sold out almost immediately when it returned last Friday.

At a time when top-billing national music festivals such as Soundwave and Future continue to fold, the fact a boutique festival such as Gaytimes – with a line-up including Ngaiire, JD Samson and Ali Barter – can thrive is a triumph.

While some question the need for an LGBTIQ music festival, Gaytimes provides a safe space for a section of society which still frequently faces discrimination.

When Triple J announced Gaytimes was returning for a second year, the Facebook post was flooded with homophobic comments. Organisers called the response disappointing.

It's on the mountain where this attitude disappears. One of the first sights on day one was a transgender woman proudly walking in her underpants. She was the talk of the Gaytimes, with other festival-goers praising her courage.

Director Anna Whitelaw said Gaytimes provided a safe space for people to be themselves.

"So many people from the gay community go to Golden Plains or Rainbow Serpent but they won't necessarily be themselves because you might get a funny look if you kiss your boyfriend. That's not because the festival isn't doing their best to be inclusive, but when you've got a large crowd, you're a tiny minority."

Many people came all the way from New South Wales, enduring a long train ride because they said there was nothing like Gaytimes in their state. But Whitelaw confirmed they were already exploring sites in NSW.

"The LGBTI community is going through a weird transition where dedicated gay bars are closing down," she said.

"These sorts of events provide a space that is dying in other parts of society. That's partly because the queer community is changing and they don't have same desire to go to same bar every weekend or be segregated from the rest of their friends."

At the festival, outdoor performances and an all-night rave are chequered with yoga, face painting, speed dating, workshops, life drawing, discussions about sexuality and drag queen bingo.

And when you're not dancing on the mountaintop or watching the sunrise after an all-night boogie,  afternoons are spent meeting other members of the community and making friends for life.

People making the pilgrimage for the first time said they were grateful to meet other members of the community and expand their circle of queer friends.

With a strict capacity of 1000 people, Whitelaw says they are no plans to expand the festival.

"You can always find your friends in the crowd or people where you meet once, you know you'll meet them again. It makes it have a real community vibe."

It's a beautiful sight to behold, a place where people of any sexuality and identity, whether that be butch, camp or even straight, are totally welcome.

Hopefully it's a festival which goes on to develop a history and tradition as strong as Glastonbury, Coachella and all the other greats.