We Asked Notable Texans Why They Love Our State Parks

I didn't spend much time at state parks as a kid. My appreciation came when I found my love for fishing.I have so much gratitude for the natural beauty our state parks provide. They are the perfect green spaces to encourage activity and conservation.

As a new boat owner, I plan to explore more open water in state parks for fishing, or to simply relax and enjoy the elements. My goal is to spend more time at my local state park, Cedar Hill, and explore others such as Ray Roberts Lake and Possum Kingdom.

The great outdoors awaits, and I can’t wait to discover more about these treasured areas. I want to encourage and motivate others to pursue a state park adventure as well.

My first outing was to Ray Roberts Lake State Park, but my favorite state park is Caprock Canyons.

Two years ago, my boyfriend and I planned to do the South Prong Trail but ended up hiking almost 10 miles around the loop. We started at sunset, so it got really dark, a little scary because I’d never hiked at night before.

Funny enough, we almost ran right into a bison in the middle of the road. It was so dark, we couldn’t see the body, but their eyes kind of light up. And I was like, what is that huge thing?!

Later that night, there was one right by the campsite. I love how they just run there. That’s got to be my favorite memory.

In 2020, I found myself suddenly without the ability to safely play shows or work in the studio. I had lots of time on my hands and — after spending the last 10 years on and off tour — a deep desire to travel.

I started driving but instead of heading for cities, I sought out the green blots on maps that for years I’d been whizzing right past. First, day trips (Blanco State Park, Guadalupe River State Park, Mother Neff, Stephen F. Austin) and then overnight trips (Garner, Caprock Canyons, Mustang Island).

Eventually, it was safe to get out there and work again, but my heart is still more excited to spend time in these beautiful outdoor spaces, tucked away all over the state.

I remember that morning so vividly. My first trip to a Texas State Park. My first time sleeping under the stars. This weekend changed my life. It was the first time I truly connected to nature on a different scale.

The Hill Country hugged me. The Frio River calmed my soul. The cypress trees left me mesmerized.

I was in love with how this park made me feel: fearless, strong, happy, vulnerable, calm and so safe. I knew at that moment, I would find my way back.

Many moons and parks later, I still need nature as much as I did in 1987 at Garner State Park.

"A GIANT pink rock the size of a planet that crashed into earth, like something out of Star Wars.”

That was my impression of Enchanted Rock when I hiked to the top at 4 years old. The rock grabbed my imagination and still hasn’t let go.

If something this incredible is hiding down a dusty backroad, then what other wonders could be out there? This question became my inspiration and, eventually, my profession. Even if I’ve visited 20 times, there’s always more to explore, new trails to hike and elusive animals to encounter.

I recently hiked the dome with my family and saw the same spark of curiosity on my kids’ faces. That’s a special kind of enchantment only found in our Texas State Parks.

Interstate 45 was still Highway 75 when my parents and I would pack our ’63 Ford Fairlane and little gray utility trailer with our camping equipment and head from Klein to Huntsville State Park. Just north of Conroe, the pine trees grew taller and closer together — and grew even thicker between the stretch of divided highway up to Willis. It always felt to me like going into a tunnel and coming out wrapped in a fragrant blanket of green — a different world. It felt cozy, peaceful, sitting snugly between Mom and Dad in the front seat, thinking about the fun we were about to have.

My memories of the park itself are like snapshots — driving down the long, narrow, iron-ore road through the towering pines; seeing trails leading out of the woods, intersecting the road from the hills above; arriving at the campground clearing and seeing the lake with its short, wooden pier and two-seater paddle boats docked; seeing families together by their tents; children running and playing, riding the park’s Grammy Award-winning musician rental Schwinn Stingrays into the dark woods.

My dad’s cousin Opal and her husband Phillip Beverly met us. Their son, Earl, my second cousin, was so eager to swim in the pond that Phillip took out his pocketknife and cut off Earl’s jeans. That’s how you do it, I thought.

Dad set up our canvas tent and our little aluminum folding table that held our Coleman stove, and then he and I made a beeline for the paddle boats. Earl jumped over and over off the end of the pier as dad and I peddled and paddled around.

That was one trip. I went many times — to camp and on day trips with my grade school, getting old enough to rent one of those Schwinn Stingrays and ride out into the dark woods myself, flying down those hills on the trails that intersected the iron-ore road.

As I drive up Interstate 45 these days past the park’s entrance, those days come back to me. And I wonder what my children would think if I took out my knife and cut off a pair of their jeans.

I used to take daily walks at McKinney Falls State Park for inspiration. I’d stand above the lower falls and watch the water run through the shallow channels of limestone, carved by time.

Blue-green shimmers of reflected light bounced off the mossy floor. I’d dangle my fingers in the water to feel the current and temperature and absorb the energy.

Looking down from the edge of the falls, I’d watch largemouth bass, perch, turtles, alligator gar swimming, and herons feeding along the cypress-lined banks of Onion Creek.

Nature has always inspired me. It gives off good energy. I don’t know of anything more divine and medicinal to the mind and spirit. If we could all experience it early in life, we’d be better stewards.