Why I love Georgia’s great outdoors: Camping
Many of my happiest memories involve waking up in a swelteringly hot tent. Growing up in Massachusetts, I often spent summer vacations camping near the tip of Cape Cod, my brothers and cousins and me piled like puppies in a heap of tangled sleeping bags. That first early-morning unzipping of the front entrance, with its welcome gust of fresh air and the sight of my dad laying out the sugary cereal snack packs we were allowed only on camping trips, is one of those deep joys I’ll cherish forever.
When I moved to Georgia as an adult, I’ll admit that my first camping experiences gave me pause. Lake Lanier and Lake Allatoona, popular spots within close range of Atlanta where I first camped in Georgia, are unusual waterways, with troubled histories submerged in their depths and summer temperatures that lean toward bathwater. The first time an enormous black snake swam under my paddleboard at Lake Lanier—a harmless water snake, but how was a New Englander to know?—I considered giving up camping in Georgia for good.
Instead, I’ve learned to love it. In the depths of Atlanta summers, escaping the city to live outside for the weekend is one of my favorite ways to beat the heat. A few times a year between March and October, my friends and I pack up our cars, our dogs, and an obscene amount of gear and head for a campground. We camp at nearby lakes, of course, but also farther north, at Vogel State Park, at Lake Rabun, or even into North Carolina and Tennessee if we have a long weekend. We string up lights and Atlanta United flags, dry our bathing suits on tree limbs, and scramble eggs on whichever Coleman stove gets set up first (we have several between us).
In the years since my first apprehensive trips, I’ve camped all over the state, backpacking deep into Providence Canyon and canoeing to a tent platform in the Okefenokee. But I’ve developed a special affection for the spare, practical campgrounds that dot Lake Allatoona and Lake Lanier. Owned by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, which created both reservoirs in the 1940s and ’50s, they have stout names, like McKaskey and McKinney, and offer nothing but a firepit, a concrete picnic table, and—if you’re lucky—a grill.
They’re usually overseen by a retired couple who live on-site in their RV. In exchange, they manage visitors and do drive-by checks for off-leash dogs and over-the-limit cars (we’ve been chided for both over the years). There’s never any soap in the single campground bathroom, but almost every site is lakefront, perfect for launching kayaks and paddleboards—and sometimes, if it’s not bath temperature yet, ourselves—into the turquoise water.
They draw all kinds, these campgrounds, creating a spontaneous neighborhood you’d never find in real life: At one site, a dad preps fishing rods outside a turbocharged RV with “Let’s Go Brandon” bumper stickers, while next door, a boisterous Brazilian family is blasting samba and grilling steaks. Our group, queer and multiethnic, with lots of unconventional haircuts and anxious rescue dogs, fits right in; at night, under the stars, all our campfires look the same.
One summer weekend in the thick of the pandemic, my friends and I decided to escape home confinement for a weekend camping at Lake Allatoona. Some friends invited another friend, who showed up late (she mistook McKaskey for McKinney, a common mistake) with her Coleman stove and her anxious rescue dog, and I knew from the moment I met her that I was going to marry her.
We don’t sleep in a tent these days: My wife built us a camping bed inside the car, and I have to admit, the mattress is way more comfortable than a sleeping bag, even with the dog squished between us. But when we wake up, the first thing we do is open the hatchback to let in a welcome gust of fresh air and catch the mist rising over the lake. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, we’ll catch a great blue heron winging across the turquoise water. It’s one of those deep joys I’ll cherish forever.
Where to camp in Georgia
Lake Allatoona
Located only about 40 miles from Atlanta, Lake Allatoona is a great camping destination for beginners or anyone looking for a quick weekend getaway. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers owns several campgrounds around the lake, which offer both primitive (tent-only) and RV sites, many of them waterfront. Most campgrounds have an on-site boat launch, as well as small beaches with cordoned swimming areas.
Cumberland Island
Cumberland, off Georgia’s coast, is one of the most unique camping experiences in the country. With no vehicles and little electricity available, campers must come prepared. The island is accessible only by ferry, so you must secure a permit for one of its five campgrounds before arrival, and carry your gear to your site. The rugged trek is worth it, however—enjoy a beautiful national seashore beach and coastal wildlife.
Cloudland Canyon State Park
This gorgeous state park is located on the western edge of Lookout Mountain, close to the Tennessee border. A vast trail system offers multiple hikes through lush forest down to two thunderous waterfalls. There are several camping options in the park: Tent, trailer, and backcountry sites are available to book, as well as simple but cozy yurts and more spacious cottages for an experience closer to glamping.
Rachel Garbus is deputy editor of Atlanta magazine.
This article appears in our August 2024 issue.
The post Why I love Georgia’s great outdoors: Camping appeared first on Atlanta Magazine.
There is gorgeous camping all over the state. But I hold a special fondness for the bare-bones sites run by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers.
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