This is America's most-visited state park in 2025
At number one is Watkins Glen State Park in New York's Finger Lakes region. This two-mile stretch of gorges crams in 19 waterfalls, winding trails and plenty of opportunities for picnicking or fishing for rainbow trout. It's an all-seasons stunner, but summer means swimming in the Olympic-size pool or camping under the stars.
Second place goes to Liberty State Park in New Jersey—best known for its Statue of Liberty views and picnic-friendly waterfront. Silver Falls State Park in Oregon, a rainforest wonder with the aptly named Trail of Ten Falls, comes in at number three.
The full top 10 spans coast to coast: Starved Rock State Park in Illinois lures hikers with sandstone canyons and seasonal waterfalls, while Letchworth State Park in New York brings Grand Canyon energy to the East. Hammonasset Beach in Connecticut is a sandy escape, Point Lobos in California offers sea otter spotting, Warren Dunes in Michigan boasts 260-foot sand dunes and Blue Spring in Florida is a manatee hangout.
Jones Beach in New York closes out the list at number ten with miles of oceanfront boardwalk. You can check out the full list below—happy travels!
Ten most visited state parks in the U.S.
Watkins Glen State Park, New York
Liberty State Park, New Jersey
Silver Falls State Park, Oregon
Starved Rock State Park, Illinois
Letchworth State Park, New York
Hammonasset Beach State Park, Connecticut
Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, California
Dunes State Park, Michigan
Blue Spring State Park, Florida
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Time Out
2 days ago
- Time Out
This is America's most-visited state park in 2025
If you don't have the time (or budget) for a big cross-country trek to a national park, why not check out a state park? These often overlooked but equally stunning spaces deliver just as much fresh air and scenery with fewer crowds, lower costs and much easier access. Need a little inspiration? Google Maps analyzed direction requests since Memorial Day 2025 to rank the 10 most visited state parks in the country this year. Consider this a list of your next back-to-nature getaways. At number one is Watkins Glen State Park in New York's Finger Lakes region. This two-mile stretch of gorges crams in 19 waterfalls, winding trails and plenty of opportunities for picnicking or fishing for rainbow trout. It's an all-seasons stunner, but summer means swimming in the Olympic-size pool or camping under the stars. Second place goes to Liberty State Park in New Jersey—best known for its Statue of Liberty views and picnic-friendly waterfront. Silver Falls State Park in Oregon, a rainforest wonder with the aptly named Trail of Ten Falls, comes in at number three. The full top 10 spans coast to coast: Starved Rock State Park in Illinois lures hikers with sandstone canyons and seasonal waterfalls, while Letchworth State Park in New York brings Grand Canyon energy to the East. Hammonasset Beach in Connecticut is a sandy escape, Point Lobos in California offers sea otter spotting, Warren Dunes in Michigan boasts 260-foot sand dunes and Blue Spring in Florida is a manatee hangout. Jones Beach in New York closes out the list at number ten with miles of oceanfront boardwalk. You can check out the full list below—happy travels! Ten most visited state parks in the U.S. Watkins Glen State Park, New York Liberty State Park, New Jersey Silver Falls State Park, Oregon Starved Rock State Park, Illinois Letchworth State Park, New York Hammonasset Beach State Park, Connecticut Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, California Dunes State Park, Michigan Blue Spring State Park, Florida
Scotsman
2 days ago
- Scotsman
Distance no object for American cousins while we have a meltdown if bus route changes
In the UK a drive of more than two hours is widely considered a 'trek', toilet stops must be planned, provisions laid in and service stations considered, says Susan Morrison Could be my imagination, but the Great Oasis Invasion seems to have gone fairly smoothly. I have no idea if the concerts themselves went well. I assume they did. Sign up to our daily newsletter Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to Edinburgh News, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... Everyone seemed terribly chuffed, including the Americans I spoke to on the tram who told me they managed to get tickets for the whole family. Since, and I quote, 'we were touring Italy, so we just thought we'd hop over to Edinburgh for a couple of days for the big event'. Must admit, my little brain mildly exploded at the mere notion of a quick pop across 1493 miles (I checked). In my book, that's holiday travel, not a jaunt to see the Gallagher brothers. But then our North American cousins have a far more forgiving view of long haul travel than we do. Well, they've even been to the moon. I've long thought it's got something to do with the vast distances between, say, Sioux City and Amarillo. A tricky destination, I believe, since poor Tony Christie has been asking for directions since 1972. Clearly the man has never heard of Google Maps. Presumably the waiting Sweet Marie has lost all hope of ever seeing her wandering paramour and married someone who can make it up the aisle without pestering strangers to show him the way. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Australians are the same. At this time of the year virtually every venue in the city has a joyous band of relentlessly enthusiastic young Aussies doing sterling work as techies, bar workers and front of house staff. They drop by Scotland on the way to Finland, France and/or remote bits of Greece. It could just be the ones I meet, but it seems the minute a young Oz reaches passport age, lifts her or his head to the wind, they scent the entire world and treat it as their playground, and wonderfully adventurous they are, too. Distance means nothing. Possibly because we live in a country that can fit in Iowa's back pocket, we tend to view travel time in minutes rather than days. A drive of more than two hours is widely considered a 'trek'. Toilet stops must be planned, provisions laid in and service stations considered. Naturally Tebay will feature, even if it's the wrong side of the country. Who can resist the lure of an artisanal pork and port pie, coupled with the iron-clad certainty that the loos are clean and working? We've been known to kick off when a diversion on the M8 takes us through Shotts, adding all of 20 minutes to the drive home. Mind you, the route through bleakest North Lanarkshire can be scary on a dark winter night. I once drove through a thick fog bank at Kirk o' Shotts. I was convinced I'd come out the other side to emerge blinking into 1832. Destinations reached after a journey of four hours or more and sit-downs must be had. Tea will be consumed, and, if two males are talking to each other, forensic post-travel examination of the roads taken, avoided, and why the M6 turned out to have been a better bet than the M1, although at one point a cheeky wee shortcut onto the A59 was considered. Our American friends viewed the whole of Europe as a daytrippers paradise. We have a meltdown if the bus route changes.
Spectator
3 days ago
- Spectator
Wormwood Scrubs, my deserted little bit of paradise
On the face of it, Wormwood Scrubs is not particularly appealing. I don't mean the prison, but the common in the north-eastern corner of Hammersmith and Fulham. It is 170 acres of unsupervised scrubland with enough wooded areas to attract a smattering of predatory homosexuals – a poor man's Hampstead Heath. Often, as I walk the dog around the perimeter, the only people I encounter are single men in tight T-shirts who eye me enquiringly as we pass. I respond by looking pointedly at Mali, as if to say: 'Can't you see I'm walking my dog, not cruising for action?' Then again, Mali is a Cavapoochon, so perhaps they don't get the message. Caroline is not a fan, preferring the more genteel Gunnersbury Park. She points out that there are always a smattering of discarded needles and used condoms on the main pathway and, because it's populated by homeless people in the warmer months, human faeces in the bushes which Mali invariably sniffs out. She's not that keen on the prison, either, which dominates the southern edge. For her, it's a reminder of Kent marshes, as depicted by Charles Dickens in Great Expectations, with the risk that an escaped convict might appear as the evening light begins to fade. Whenever I suggest going there, she's quick to remind me that our friend Johnnie once stumbled across a dead body on the Scrubs. But I'm rather fond of it. For one thing, it's only a ten-minute drive from our house in Acton, and for another, it's easier to park than at Gunnersbury – usually on the residential street abutting the Scrubs' west side and it costs nothing, which is rare for west London. The fact that you can always find a space points to the main attraction of this windswept little patch of ground: it's virtually deserted. Yes, you encounter a few oddballs and the occasional family having a picnic. Sometimes there's a game on one of the area's many football pitches. It even includes an area where people can fly drones and model aeroplanes and you spot fathers and sons messing about in there from time to time. But you often see almost no one. I took Mali for a walk last Sunday afternoon and over the course of 90 minutes I didn't see more than two dozen people. How many other large green spaces in London can you say that about? It's like Hyde Park after the apocalypse. The fact it is so under-populated is a bit of a mystery. It certainly doesn't lack history. In 1812 it was leased by the War Office to exercise cavalry horses and in 1908 the Olympic marathon route from Windsor Castle to the main stadium at White City went across the Scrubs. In 1910 it was the site of the inaugural flight of one of England's first airships and an airship garage was built soon afterwards, now the home of the Linford Christie Stadium, a neglected running track. It even had its own railway station at one point – St Quintin Park & Wormwood Scrubs – but it was struck by an incendiary bomb in 1940 and never reopened. Its present-day attractions include a nature reserve replete with acres of wildflowers, endless blackberry bushes and a decent view of London, with the Shard visible on the eastern horizon. So why is it still an undiscovered gem? I shouldn't complain because the feeling that you've got the place to yourself is its chief attraction, but it's still curious. Maybe people assume it's dangerous because it's in a rather insalubrious part of the city and, unlike the Royal Parks, doesn't enjoy any special protection from the Metropolitan Police. Indeed, I've never seen a police officer on the Scrubs. But I've also never witnessed a crime. My 17-year-old son quite often goes there to play football and he's never been mugged or chased, which is more than can be said about his walk to school. I daresay because so few people go there it's not a particularly fruitful hunting ground for local criminals. A few years ago, Queens Park Rangers petitioned Hammersmith and Fulham to convert the Linford Christie Stadium into their new home, a plan bitterly fought by the Friends of Wormwood Scrubs, who oppose any development of the land. Talk about being torn. On the one hand, I want QPR to build a new stadium because their present one is too small. But I also don't relish the prospect of tens of thousands of football fans traipsing across my beloved Scrubs, leaving a trail of beer cans and fast food packaging behind them. In the end the council refused to grant the club planning permission and I was a bit relieved. The Scrubs is a special place because it's so deserted and I'd like to keep it that way.
