Highland Lakes

The first breath of Highland Lakes carries the crisp scent of pine and damp earth, punctuated by the soft murmur of water lapping against lake shores. A gravel road winds through a canopy of hardwoods before opening into a clearing where campers set their tents or park their rigs. Here, the quiet hum of cicadas fills the air as the afternoon sun filters through leaves, dappling the ground with shifting patches of light. Families and solo travelers linger by the water’s edge, skipping stones or trailing bare toes through cool shallows, drawn back season after season by the calm that settles over the township’s wooded embrace.

Days at Highland Lakes unfold with the rhythm of outdoor exploration and lakeside leisure. Early risers can follow the Lakeside Trail, a two-mile loop tracing the contours of the water’s edge, where kingfishers dart and herons stand statuesque. Kayaks glide silently across mirrored surfaces, carving gentle wakes beneath the watchful eyes of mature oaks. For those who favor land over water, a short drive leads to the Wawayanda State Park trails, where rugged terrain challenges hikers and rewards with panoramic views atop Bearfort Mountain. As the afternoon wanes, the camp’s communal fire pit becomes a gathering spot, crackling with conversation and the occasional tune strummed on a guitar.

The campground itself offers a blend of rustic charm and thoughtful convenience. Sites vary from shaded, level tent spots nestled within mixed hardwood groves to spacious plots accommodating larger rigs, each equipped with reliable electric hookups that support modern needs without overwhelming the natural setting. Potable water taps and clean restrooms sit just a short walk away, while communal picnic areas invite neighbors to share meals beneath broad pavilions. Cell service here can waver beneath the dense canopy, lending an unspoken invitation to disconnect, though WiFi access at the ranger station ensures those who must stay connected can do so.

Evenings at Highland Lakes unfurl with the soft chorus of frogs and the occasional hoot of an owl, weaving through the rustle of leaves stirred by gentle breezes. This is a place where time slows, and the day’s worries dissolve into the steady rhythm of lapping waves and crackling embers. Campers return year after year, drawn less by flashy attractions and more by the steady pulse of nature’s quiet moments waiting just beyond the tent flap.