Our First Stop on the Road: Hidden Beauty in Georgia
As we pulled into the long driveway of Kolomoki Mounds State Park in Georgia, the visitor center immediately caught our attention. A charming building stood at the entrance, accompanied by a small replica of a Native American lodge. The display offered a glimpse into the daily lives of the people who once thrived here, showcasing their tools, customs, and history.
Inside, we were welcomed by an elderly man whose passion for local history was undeniable. His wealth of knowledge left us captivated as he shared stories of the mounds, the people who built them, and their lasting significance. Before we set off to explore, he handed us maps and pamphlets filled with useful details about the park. With a beautiful campsite secured and a newfound appreciation for the area’s past, we eagerly embarked on our adventure.
Our chosen campsite sat deep within the park, far from the main campground—no pop-ups, no RVs, just us and the trees. And it was perfect. Nestled along a quiet driveway, our site overlooked a peaceful meadow. Across the main road stood a cluster of towering trees, their foliage arranged at the top, reminiscent of whimsical Truffula trees.
We had everything we needed within reach—an outhouse just 30 feet away, a hose spigot 20 feet in the opposite direction, and an unused hiking trail leading right out the back. It was truly an incredible spot to make camp.
We started with the tent, choosing a level patch of ground nestled between the trees. As we unrolled the rainfly and secured the stakes, our pup circled us excitedly, tail wagging as he inspected every inch of our temporary home. With the last pole locked into place, the tent stood sturdy and ready—a cozy retreat waiting for the night ahead.
Next came the hammocks. Instead of trees, the site had tall metal poles spaced perfectly apart, designed just for hammock camping. Wrapping the straps around them, we adjusted the height, making sure the fabric was stretched just right—not too loose, not too tight. A quick test confirmed they were perfect, swaying gently with the breeze.
With our sleeping spots secured, we turned our attention to the rest of camp. We set up our chairs facing the meadow, where the light of day flickered through the trees. A small cooking area came together nearby, ready for a warm meal after a long day.
With camp set up, we set off to explore. Our trusty sidekick trotted happily ahead, tail wagging in anticipation. Before long, we stumbled upon a sprawling grassy field, golden in the afternoon sun. Our pup had carried his ball the entire way—how could we resist? We ran, played, and laughed until the sun dipped low behind the trees, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.
Wandering a little farther, we discovered a serene lake, its surface dotted with lily pads and edged by tall grasses. The sight made my heart swell. Just beyond, a small beach tempted us to linger, but we knew it was time to turn back for the night. Still, in that moment, one thing was certain— we love Georgia.
The next morning, we awoke to an unexpected surprise—midday light barely filtering through the thick canopy above. The trees had kept our campsite so cool and dim that we had slept far later than planned. By the time we were up and moving, it was nearly noon.
Our pup, patient as always, waited eagerly for the day's adventure. We hopped in the car and headed back to the lake, taking in the scenery with fresh eyes. This time, we noticed a row of boats neatly lined along the shore.
Hoping for the best, we approached—and sure enough, they were available for rent. Before we knew it, we were gliding across the dark, glimmering waters in a canoe. Our best friend nestled between us, ears perked with excitement, his nose twitching at the new scents carried by the breeze.
For hours, we drifted, the stillness broken only by the rhythmic splash of our paddles. The lake’s surface shifted with each stroke, hiding its true depth beneath the ripples. As we neared a quiet stand of trees, a weathered dock emerged from the shadows, half-submerged and worn by time.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy, making the water shimmer and dance. Thick curtains of moss draped low from the branches, swaying gently in the breeze. We pressed off the old dock, sending ripples through the stillness before drifting back toward the open water.
The moment we left the shade, the sun’s intensity hit all at once. It warmed my shoulders through my shirt and heated the top of my head. The only relief came from the occasional splash of our paddles, cool droplets landing on our skin like fleeting bursts of refreshment.
As we neared shore, we spotted a family with an excited pup bouncing at the water’s edge. Our own faithful companion couldn’t contain himself—his tail wagged furiously as he let out his famous, joyful ahh-woo-woo-woo, greeting his newfound friend from across the lake.
With the canoe secured and our feet back on solid ground, we began the slow return to camp. The golden afternoon light had faded, replaced by thick, rolling clouds. A distant rumble of thunder echoed through the trees, and the scent of rain hung in the air, fresh and electric.
By the time we reached camp, the first drops had begun to fall, tapping lightly against the leaves. We hurried to secure our gear, tightening the rainfly over the tent and tucking away anything we didn’t want drenched. As the rain picked up, we zipped ourselves inside, listening to the steady rhythm of water pattering against the fabric.
Our pup curled up at our feet, sighing contentedly as the cool air settled around us. The scent of damp earth and pine mixed with the electric charge of the storm. Another distant rumble rolled through the sky, but here, nestled in our cozy shelter, we felt safe.
As the rain drummed against the tent, lulling us to sleep, I smiled. Setting up the tent was definitely the right call.