“Lake Livengston State Park: Lake Maze”

12 10 2006

“Lake Livengston State Park: A Lake Maze” by me, of course
. (c) Copyright 2006 Brad. All rights reserved. No copy of this text can be displayed without written permission.

LAKE LIVENGSTON STATE PARK: A LAKE MAZE

I think I know where I am. Here, on the map, I am here at this fork… or maybe this fork, or maybe this cross. To tell the truth, I don’t know where I am.

I have been stuck in this maze for maybe a while. It has been about an hour since we left camp. We were at Lake Livingston State Park with my dad’s company pals. They had planned this campout for a long time.

I thought about who made the map. They sure did not pay attention. On the trail we were on, we were confused a lot. The network of trails on the map did not reflect the real forest.

Along the path, we saw trails that were unmarked on the map, and trails marked on the map that were not in the real world, meaning there was no possible way unless we tried to go through the entangled mess of pine needles and trees.

Everywhere I looked was tall pine trees. Everywhere I listened were chirping birds, happy with their lives, and knowing exactly where they were, unlike us. But there we were, in the great wilderness.

It felt good. I stopped and reached into my backpack and grabbed my water bottle out, drinking some. It felt refreshing and safe, because I knew with water I could always survive, even if we were lost…

My dad caught up with me from behind and took a sip of water. He chatted with me and then we ate a cracker together. It tasted salty. I climbed back onto my bike and rode on.

It didn’t take long before we noticed we were going in circles. We saw the same rock, the same fallen trunk, and the same spot. It didn’t feel good knowing we went in circles.

“Come on!” My dad encouraged, so we went in a circle again. Finally, when my dad was convinced that “no, we didn’t miss the trail”, we went in another direction. Soon, we hit the familiar main path.

My dad and I decided to again stake out on another obvious but unmarked trail. I went along on the trail. The piney ground felt soft and perfect for biking. We rode along until ahead, we saw a road.

My dad used the compass to determine that going along that road would bring us to the dock. It sounded reasonable, since the road went northward and the map (although quite untrusting) said the dock was north.

When riding down the road, I noticed two fences, one on the left and one on the right of the road, which we came from. The one on the left was obviously a property line, so we guessed that was the park boundary.

Ahead of us, we saw a sign. Far ahead, the only word we could recognize was “Notice”. I went ahead and read the sign. “Lake Livingston Homes are now open to moving in…” Moving in? What was this getting to?

It didn’t take long for me to see the street sign “Livingston Dr.” and piece together the information. That trail was a way out of the park, and we had stumbled upon it. The fences were both property lines, only the left side was private.

Before anyone noticed, me and my dad went back into the park. We rode all the way back to the main route before anyone noticed. We relaxed. I figured the map did not show that trail for a reason.

My dad still wanted to go to the dock. We carefully made sure not to go on the wrong trail, not to go out the park, and to follow the map, and made it to the dock. At last, we had arrived.

The first thing we noticed was that it was not the beautiful dock that we had saw before while riding (going in circles, to be exact). Instead, it was a small trail going around the outside of the bay.

I guessed that it was probably the private property dock. So we found a way to get down the steep hill and not to get into the depth of Livingston Lake. When we did, my dad decided to ride along the edge of the lake.

It was great except for some certain spots. The most common one was missing pavement. There would be an area where all you saw was steel linings and weeds. The weeds were very bumpy, and as the pavement was pretty high up, I found it hard to get back onto the pavement.

In less than ten minutes, our little journey was over as we came across the end of the pavement. There was a little bend that went into the land.

I was pretty mad because right across from us, less than maybe one-hundred yards were the pavement. I wanted to bike right cross, but you couldn’t bike across the lake.

So we turned around and went back up. I took a look at the screen houses. It looked all right. It had great ventilation, which I thought might be a bad thing at night when the air was cold.

The screen house looked pretty secure. It might be too secure. If one mosquito came in, that was one mosquito that couldn’t come out from that screen house. I laughed at that thought, but then remembered that I was living in one myself later. I smiled. It looked fun.

We went back to camp just in time to make it in time for the delicious lunch. Some friends that had come along had made a scrumptious dinner.

Turkey, fruit, bread, dumplings, barbeque, and mouth-watering pork-on-a-stick made my stomach full all the way to the tip. Just when we least expected it, a guest arrived.

“Can we join in?” they asked. I happily agreed. Why did they take so long to arrive? After all, here was someone I could play with.\

I spent the rest of the time playing with them until night, when we went to the bonfire.

At the bonfire, someone threw in a matchstick. The fire did not blaze. Instead, it glowed lightly. Until somebody poured a bucket of oil on top.

The flammable oil made the fire lighten up intensely. I scrambled back as the flaming bark began to shoot away like missiles attacking. It was fun.

That night, I went into our van as my dad set up the camping car. What was a van was not a almost-full-fledged RV, only a bit small. It looked like the same old van from the outside. But just like never judging a book by its cover, the inside was much better.

On the ground lay the long bed, which laid on top of the foldable back-row. Chairs in the middle row had been removed already. I laid down and felt the seat lock. It was the only thing that made it feel not like a RV.

The next morning, I was noisily awaked by two friends I played with yesterday who were knocking. I whipped into my jeans, as they could see through the glass, and what they saw was me in my night-wear with a thick and huge blanket over me. Not a good reputation maker.

That morning, after most of the people left, we went bike riding. Going back to the campsite, we noticed everyone had left. We biked on over to a trail next to a playground and saw some of the people in the group.

It clicked in my mind as I realized they had come over here to play and eat. Too bad for them, they didn’t have a pot. We did, though. So while I played on the playground with everyone else, they made lunch.

What was for lunch was eggs, and my dad’s very own recipe for spaghetti with my mom’s very own recipe for sauce. It ended up being a delicious dinner.

After lunch, we got ready to pack up. As I sat on the car, I looked outside. From trails to playgrounds to campsites, Lake Livingston State Park had it all.

Which is why I wondered why it didn’t have everything on the map.

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One response

13 10 2006
Roy

You really need a GPS.

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