Entering deep East Texas is an exercise in seclusion. As I slip behind the Pine Curtain to tool along winding roadways, swaying timbers mute the din of traffic, jetliners, and construction. Nestled within this idyllic woodsy landscape are the state’s four national forests: Davy Crockett, Angelina, Sabine, and Sam Houston, which boast shimmering lakes, shady hiking trails, and flora and fauna galore. 

The forests and grasslands of Texas collectively comprise 675,000 acres of land. The forests were the sites of intensive logging in the early 20th century, but a 1934 Texas legislative resolution gave them a second chance at life, designating the timberlands as national recreational sites. A year later, the federal government acquired the land and later dispatched the Civilian Conservation Corps to build out public infrastructure in the areas. Their hard work has stood the test of time, and nearly a century later visitors swim, boat, fish, hunt, hike, camp, ride horses, and view wildlife in the forests.

Despite the rousing success story, the forests fly under the radar for many travelers, says Mandy Chumley, public affairs specialist for the U.S. Forest Service, National Forests, and Grasslands in Texas. “We have such a small percentage of public land in Texas, and a lot of people aren’t familiar with the national forests and grasslands,” she says. “I think people would be surprised to learn these hidden treasures offer diverse recreation opportunities. There’s a little something here for everyone.” 

Illustrations by Mike Reddy

---

Travis Collins, a 65-year-old from Bentley, Louisiana, stays in an RV at a campground on Toledo Bend’s western shore, reeling in bream and white bass with buddies whenever he gets a rare day off from his job building a natural gas pipeline in the neighboring Bayou State. “It’s a gorgeous, beautiful place,” Collins says as he plays with KK, his miniature Australian shepherd, in the shadow of his camper. “If we catch seven, eight good bass, we clean ’em and have a good fish fry.” His recipe includes cornmeal, salt, pepper, and Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning.

For a more intimate fishing experience, head to the western side of the forest, where the 19-acre Red Hills Lake is surrounded by a thick curtain of pines and is off-limits to motorized boats. There’s even more angling action in the 18 miles of perennial streams that run through the forest. Arm yourself with a pair of binoculars to see the resident population of wood ducks, perching waterfowl with glossy green heads and chestnut breasts, that float, fly, and quack in the forest year-round. And while you’re in the area, follow the signs denoting El Camino Real de los Tejas, a National Historic Trail on State Highway 21, which marks the route taken by some of the first Spanish explorers in Texas from their easternmost settlements to missions in present-day San Antonio. It’s one of the first inroads made by European settlers in this watery segment of the New World.   

The latter takes a northeasterly course past Lake Conroe on gently sloping terrain surrounded by twisting tree roots and felled timbers. Thru-hikers can expect to spend about a week on the trail. Whether you’re in for a few miles or the long haul, Murphy recommends bringing plenty of water, especially in the summer. You should also watch your step: The forest is home to venomous snakes, including copperheads, water moccasins, and timber rattlesnakes.

For visitors who prefer to spend less time afoot, the forest offers trails for horse riding and dirt biking, and Lake Conroe has numerous boat ramps and areas for swimming and angling. History buffs will be enthralled by the forest’s campgrounds built by the CCC in the 1930s, featuring original pavilions and bathhouses.  

You can encounter the wildlife lurking in these woods without ever setting foot on the trail. Just ask sisters Sherry Herring and Christy Douglas, who were visiting the forest one day in April from their home in the Gulf Coast town of Seabrook. Now in their 40s, they’ve spent virtually every summer here since they were children, picnicking and paddleboating and visiting the ice cream truck that stopped by periodically. One of their most memorable experiences happened decades ago at a birthday party for their oldest sister on the bank of Ratcliff Lake. They had brought cupcakes to celebrate, but when their backs were turned, a pack of raccoons pilfered the cakes and absconded with them. “We found a trail of wrappers leading all the way down into the water,” Herring says, laughing. Though the incident may have been traumatic for their sister, there was something poetic about it—after all, the place is named for a legendary pioneer with a penchant for wearing a coonskin cap.