Our Unforgettable Camping Weekend at Ha Ha Tonka State Park
Long before I became a mother, I used to come to Ha Ha Tonka State Park in Camdenton, Missouri on quiet weekends when I needed space to think.
Back then, I would drive alone, park near the castle ruins, walk the bluff trails, and sit overlooking the Lake of the Ozarks with a notebook in my hand.
I remember hiking the Spring Trail in my early twenties, stopping to look down at the turquoise water below the limestone cliffs.
I drank coffee from a travel mug while sitting on one of the wooden benches near the overlook, watching families laugh in the distance and wondering what my own future would look like.
Last weekend, I returned to that same park, but this time, I was not alone.
William sat in the backseat asking how fish breathe underwater, and our fluffy Pomeranian shifted excitedly beside him. Life had changed in every way, yet the road leading into Ha Ha Tonka looked exactly the same.
The Drive and the First Breath of Fall Air
We left Saturday morning at 7:15 a.m. I packed the car the night before because I know mornings with a four-year-old can shift unexpectedly.
The forecast promised clear skies with a high of 71 degrees and a cool 52-degree evening.
I layered William in a long-sleeve shirt and packed extra socks because I have learned that damp feet can ruin a good mood quickly.
As we drove along Highway 54, the scenery gradually shifted from small businesses to rolling hills. Trees lined the road in shades of amber, deep red, and gold.
William pressed his face against the window and asked if we might see deer. I told him that at Ha Ha Tonka, anything feels possible.
When we turned into the park entrance, the familiar stone sign greeted us. The road curved downward through dense oak and hickory trees, and sunlight filtered through branches in soft, shifting patterns.
Stepping out of the car, I inhaled deeply. The air smelled like fallen leaves and cool earth, that scent felt like a memory.
Setting Up Camp Together
We reserved a basic tent campsite near the wooded section of the campground. It included a gravel parking pad, a wooden picnic table, and a metal fire ring.
I chose this spot intentionally because it was shaded but still close to a walking trail that leads to the lake.
Our tent is a simple four-person Coleman dome tent, nothing fancy but reliable. I laid the fabric flat while William handed me the poles one by one.
He insisted on pushing the flexible fiberglass poles through the sleeves himself, concentrating so hard that his tongue slightly stuck out the side of his mouth.
The first attempt failed when one pole slipped free and the structure collapsed sideways. Instead of frustration, we laughed.
I showed him how to hold the pole steady while I clipped the tent hooks into place.
When the tent finally stood upright and secure, he crawled inside immediately and declared it “our forest house number two.”
Inside, we unrolled two sleeping bags side by side. I placed a thick quilt from home between them because I know temperatures can drop quickly near the lake.
Our dog’s small bed fit near the entrance, and William carefully arranged his flashlight next to his pillow.
Exploring the Trails and the Castle Ruins
Before heading to the water, we walked toward the castle ruins, one of the park’s most well-known landmarks.
The remains of the stone structure stand tall against the sky, overlooking the lake below. I had walked there many times alone years ago. This time, I held William’s hand as we climbed the stone steps.
He asked why there was a castle in Missouri. I explained that it was once part of a private estate built in the early 1900s. He imagined knights and dragons instantly.
From the overlook, the Lake of the Ozarks stretched wide and calm.
The water reflected the blue sky, with faint ripples created by passing boats in the distance. I pointed out how the limestone bluffs curved around the water’s edge.
We also visited the small natural bridge trail, a short loop that passes beneath a rock formation shaped like an arch. William ran beneath it and shouted to hear his echo.
Fishing by the Lake
In the afternoon, we carried our fishing rods down a narrow gravel path toward a quiet section of the shoreline.
The ground sloped gently, covered in fallen leaves and patches of grass. The lake surface shimmered softly in the sunlight.
I attached a small bobber to William’s child-sized rod and showed him how to hold it steady. His first cast barely reached beyond the rocks.
The second cast landed farther, and he looked at me with wide eyes, proud of the improvement.
We sat side by side on a flat rock, waiting.
He asked why fish do not float to the top. I explained about gills and oxygen in simple terms.
Although we did not catch anything, he remained patient for nearly forty minutes, occasionally adjusting his line with serious concentration.
Leading the Dog and Exploring the Campsite
Later, William insisted on leading our Pomeranian around the campground. I handed him the leash and reminded him to keep both hands secure.
He walked carefully past neighboring campsites where other families grilled burgers and roasted hot dogs.
One little boy about his age asked if he could pet our dog. William explained proudly that he feeds him every evening and refills his water bowl.
We also collected interesting rocks along the path. He chose three flat stones to bring home and placed them carefully in his jacket pocket.
Cooking and Evening Activities
As the sun began lowering, we prepared dinner at our campsite.
I set up the propane stove and cooked marinated chicken while William arranged apple slices and sandwich bread on paper plates. The smell of garlic and herbs mixed with cool autumn air.
Nearby, another family played acoustic guitar softly while their children ran in circles. The atmosphere felt communal but peaceful.
After dinner, we built a small fire. William gathered small twigs and placed them carefully inside the fire ring.
When the flames began crackling gently, we roasted marshmallows slowly until they turned golden brown. Melted chocolate dripped slightly from our s’mores, and he laughed when it stuck to his fingers.
When darkness fully settled, we turned off the lantern and lay inside the tent. Through the mesh ceiling, we could see faint stars scattered across the sky. Crickets chirped steadily outside.
He whispered, “I like this better than TV.”
Returning to Ha Ha Tonka with my son felt different from my earlier visits. Years ago, I came seeking quiet for myself. This time, I came to give him space to explore, question, and grow.
And watching him experience the park with wonder reminded me why I loved it in the first place.
