Island Camping at Trap Pond

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How often do you get to camp on your own private island? How often do you get to do that in Delaware?

Trap Pond State Park, about 27 miles due west of Bethany Beach, was never high on my list of places to camp or even visit. But when I stopped by a few years ago to see what was there, I discovered a unique site that changed my mind. Wow, I thought, how cool would it be to camp here?

But let’s step back a minute. Trap Pond State Park is best known for having one of the northernmost, naturally occurring stands of baldcypress trees, which thrive in the lowlands and swamps of the Atlantic and Gulf coastal plains and similarly wet regions in the Midwest. (There’s another far northern stand at Battle Creek Cypress Swamp just south of Prince Frederick, Maryland. See A Southern Swamp in Maryland.)

Trap Pond is the central feature of this popular recreational park, which offers hiking, biking, boating, fishing, picnicking, ball fields, and more. It also has a large campground. Most sites (naturally) accommodate RVs, but there are also walk-in sites for tent campers and a row of cabins and yurts along the shore. And then there is campsite “Island 01.”

This unique site occupies its own little knob of land that juts out into the pond. You have to cross a short boardwalk through cypress swamp to get there, so technically I guess that makes it an island.

The campsite map I picked up years ago showed two campsites here, but they have since been combined into one, which makes more sense. The site can accommodate several tents and up to 16 people, so it’s perfect for a small group. Or just one tent and one person looking for solitude.

It comes with its own nearby parking spaces, its own little cypress swamp and boardwalk, two large picnic tables, two grills, and a generous amount of space to pitch a tent or six. A very nice restroom and shower facility is off island a short walk away. The island site is separated on all sides from everyone else around—just what I look for when I want to go camping.

The island site is also the most expensive campsite in the park—twice as much as a standard site, but it can accommodate twice as many people. This spring, walk-in tent sites cost $20, standard sites $26, and the island site $52, a dollar less than a cabin. But it’s worth it.

A nice spot to relax.

I finally got to stay here this past April on my way back from a bicycle tour in Edenton, North Carolina. I had booked the campsite months in advance for a Sunday night. Happily, the weather and temperature turned out to be almost perfect.

I arrived at the park at midday, checked in, headed to my island site, and set up camp. I had so much room to spread out that it took me a while to decide where to pitch my tent. Then I set out on my bike to explore the park.

I biked to the Nature Center, which unfortunately had just closed (at 4:00 p.m. on Sundays). So, I continued on and biked the entire Bob Trail, a 4.6-mile multiuse trail that circles the pond and park. On one side of the pond, the wide gravel path passes through the day use part of the park and close to the shore. On the other side, the trail narrows as it twists and turns through the woods before bringing you back to wherever you began.

I could have driven to nearby Laurel for dinner, but I chose instead to eat in camp—freeze-dried beef stroganoff (not bad, actually) and a pastry I’d picked up at a grocery store. Later, I broke out my dark chocolate and Grand Marnier and spent the evening relaxing. Or trying to, at least. I was out of practice. Maybe I need to do this more often.

I wasn’t entirely isolated. Earlier, I could hear voices from other campers on the “mainland.” A boat with a pair of fishermen drifted by. But once darkness fell and the campground settled down, it got very quiet.

I usually have a hard time sleeping when I camp. I sometimes have a hard time sleeping even at home. But once I climbed into my sleeping bag atop my thick and comfortable air mattress that night, I fell instantly to sleep. I slept more soundly than I had in weeks . . .

Until about 2:00 a.m. when I was awakened from that deep sleep by the loud, frantic, persistent honking of a nearby goose, perhaps panicked by a fox or racoon coming too close to its nest.

In one of the quietest and most private and peaceful sites I have ever camped, I had to put in earplugs to get back to sleep.

In the morning, as I heated water for coffee in my camping stove, I watched a great blue heron on the shore stalk and nab a fish. All was right again on my little island world, except that I had to leave.

David Romanowski, 2022

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