in praise . ky state parks

Sunrise at Kenlake State Park, Kentucky

After a tear-filled departure from Lexington, my first stop on my Zen Gypsy adventure was on a pristine reservoir at the Kenlake State Park on Kentucky Lake in the western part of the state. It was a hard days' drive, but when I arrived, a cool breeze was stirring and I found that my campsite was a stone's throw from of the water, adjacent to the woods. A small path wound from my tent door down to a small rocky beach, where the waves lapped and lulled, kissing the shore. It was quiet and secluded -- a little bit of heaven.

My Home Away From Home

Camp Setup

This was a small campground which had been recommended by my dear friend Annie L'Esperance, with only a few people staying the night. I set up my tent in no time flat and even had time to secure the hammock before night descended and the familiar symphony of Southern night creatures began their creative chorus. I'd already discovered that earplugs and an eye mask were glamping essentials if I were to get my beauty sleep, but stopping up my ears only partially quelled the sound of insect after insect beginning its desperate mating solo, each louder, more irritating and erratic than the last.

Those who live in Kentucky are well used to this nightly cacophony, and I suppose I was too when I lived there, but it took me a bit off guard. It felt like water torture or someone continuously drilling into your brain . . . and I just had to laugh. Nature. In all her glory. Completely indifferent to anyone with the least desire to sleep.

The Only Quiet Member of My Insect Friends

The next morning, I made a nice big mug of Peet's coffee and an omelet of egg whites, spinach and sundried tomatoes on my BioLite stove and set out to see what I could see. I'd hoped to find a place on the lake to swim, but there really wasn't a public beach to be found. The local folks just looked at me quizzically when I asked where I could swim. Swim? they universally responded. Don't know about that. Indeed, when I looked around the lake, no one was in the water. I suppose if you lived and worked on a lake, the appeal of it might lessen, but still, I thought it a bit odd.

Finally, Joe, a helpful park ranger had a suggestion: The lodge. There's a pool there. They'll let you in. Well, okay, that was progress, though I was a bit disappointed not to get into the lake water. It was why I'd come, in part. I suppose I could have gone in just about anywhere, but there was really no one around and somehow, not knowing this lake or anything about its currents or shoreline, made me slightly uneasy. 

The lodge turned out to be a godsend as the afternoon heat and humidity rocketed into the upper 90s. I found a nice cool spot in the coffee shop and caught up on my emails, did quite a bit of writing while the hummingbirds circled the wildflowers outside, and when the air conditioning got a little too icy, headed to the pool which had a stellar view of the lake.

Kentucky state parks are well known for their hospitality and their home-cooked cuisine. The waitress, who was friendly and kept bringing me fresh cups of coffee, unasked, while I was writing, confirmed that the catfish that day was as good as it got. She was right and I had a mighty tasty lunch (one of the very few meals I haven't cooked at campsite.) By the time the temperature had begun to drop, I felt rested and refreshed, and so I headed back to my tent for a glass of wine and some fruit and crackers for dinner and just in time to witness a most lovely sunset.

The insect barrage began once again, but this time I was ready for the buggers. Two pillows plastered over my ears, in addition to earplugs, allowed me a blissful sleep. The next morning, I repeated my breakfast ritual with just coffee and when my neighbors gave a friendly wave, I walked over and we chatted a bit. They were sweet folks who owned a farm in Illinois. They were having a bit of trouble with their GPS and I tried to troubleshoot it for them to no avail. We had a nice conversation about farming and we wished each other well, fellow travelers all.

I realized that it would have been nice to have had an extra day to enjoy things and vowed that from here on in I would reserve sites for three days instead of two. Two days were just not quite enough time once you set up and broke down your campsite. And so, I was on my way once again. This time to Missouri . . .

May your own travels

not drive you buggy,

Karen