The Best Laid Plans…

We leave early this morning as Michael points our car north toward Inks Lake State Park. The temperatures have begun to climb during these early days of June, and we discovered last week that our lunches should perhaps turn into breakfast picnics. I was planning on something packable, like muffins and a Tortilla Española con Papas y Jamón. But a camper at heart, Michael jumped at the chance to cook breakfast outdoors. Even though it is my week to cook, the only thing I supply is orange muffins shaped like the winged insects of summer. Ladybugs and butterflies will be joining us today.

Memories

As we make our way toward Michael’s idyllic state park, full of childhood memories and days of camping, he takes my favorite route via Hamilton Pool Road. A gift I wasn’t expecting. Along the way, I ask him how many days of his childhood he spent at Inks Lake.

“A lot,” he says, “Sometimes we would camp for an entire month, and my father would commute to work.”

I’ve heard a lot of his stories but never knew this one. I know he spent a vast amount of his time with his dog and friends, roaming the hills and gullies and inlets of Inks Lake State Park. It was part and parcel of his life as a child, a teenager, and a young man.

His parents camped here every summer. His dog was bitten by a rattlesnake and is buried here. As a teenager, he and a friend tried swimming across the lake to investigate a girl’s camp on the other side and quickly turned around when they saw a group of water moccasins in their path once they were near shore. Since this snake species are known to hunt and chase its prey, they learned to swim very fast that day.

A Breakfast Picnic

Approaching the park’s entrance, we don our Covid-19 masks, and are greeted by a masked park ranger. He checks us in, instructing us where to pick up a map of the park and trails. We set off looking for the picnic area, and find it at the extreme north end of the lake. The table we occupied during our Easter picnic years ago is available. All of the picnic tables we see are available. The park is filled with many campers, but picnickers must not be interested. Perhaps it’s the hour, and they are waiting for noon.

During our last picnic here, on a Sunday holiday, empty picnic tables were few and far between. It seemed everyone in Central Texas had the same idea as we did and arrived much earlier. After devouring our lunch that day, we hiked the trails and watched eager teenagers clamber over giant boulders and slabs of broken and torn earth at Devil’s Waterhole and jump—swimming at their own risk.

Today, while I scope out the picnic area, Michael rolls our tote down the uneven hillside and proceeds to set up his cooking station. The single burner Coleman stove going at full blast, he heats water for our French Press coffee and then begins frying sausage and grilling bread.  I place our insect shaped muffins on the table and pour each of us a cup of coffee.

Michael munches on a muffin while finishing his outdoor breakfast by browning potatoes and scrambling eggs. He is a better person than I am, and I’m glad.  His breakfasts are always delicious, no matter the circumstances.

The Park

Our picnic spot is perfect, with a view of the beautiful blue lake peeking at us between the trees. The water beckons and I want to be there. Sitting here sipping my coffee, I can’t help but wish that the couple seated in their portable chairs by the lake, reading their morning paper, would decide to leave.

But it doesn’t happen.

After breakfast and several cups of coffee Michaels asks me if I want to walk to Devil’s Waterhole. I look at the sun as it climbs higher, getting hotter, beating down on my head.

And I confess, “I’d rather wait till it’s cool.”

What a wimp I am.  I think Michael is secretly relieved I’m a wimp, although he would never tell me. So we haul this morning’s leftovers to our open-air chariot and explore the park on wheels.

The lake is so inviting; I can understand why many moms, dads, and kids want to be here. Much of the shore is empty and wild, but the areas designated for camping are tiny villages built of canvas and steel. Kids fish, swim, ride scooters, and just play. It’s a lovely sight.

Still a kid at heart, Michael exits the car at the south end of the park and tromps around the rocks and fishing pier to get a better view of his beloved lake. I know it is hard for him to say goodbye to this beautiful place; so, he extends our morning excursion to the Highland Lakes area. We drive south through Kingsland, around Lake Buchannan, and across the Llano River, remembering when—so many whens. Sometimes I was there.

Inks Lake State Park

3630 Park Road 4 West, Burnet, TX 78611

Open daily, 8 a.m. – 10 p.m.

Today the park consists of more camping areas than picnic tables, with nearly 200 campsites and 22 cabins. Many sites are lakeside or have easy access to the lake, and several camping loops have playgrounds.

Even with the cloud of Covid-19 hanging overhead, the park is packed, quite possibly because it is a wonderful land and water playground for family and friends to meet and have fun. There are nine miles of trails to hike and explore with a wildlife viewing area as a destination at the end of the Devil’s Backbone Nature Trail. You can fish from their docks, swim in the lake, bring your boat and ski, or rent a paddleboat, canoe or kayak. The park also has life vests and paddles available for rent at the park store.

Inks Lake is quite possibly one of the loveliest, least expensive places for a family to spend their summer vacation, have fun, meet friends, and commune with nature.

Reservations

Reservations are required for both day passes and camping. Make Reservations online or by phone – (512) 389-8900