I almost hesitate to write about this spot so as to not make it too popular. Not very often do you stumble upon a campground that’s humble in appearance but rich in experience. Kenisee Grand River Campground isn’t trying to impress you with luxury yurts or catered charcuterie. And that’s exactly what makes it so special. Kind of like stepping back into the late 50’s. Tucked among Ohio’s hardwoods and peppered with golf carts, garden gnomes, and laughter, it’s the kind of place where kids still cannonball into spring-fed ponds and dogs nap in camp chairs. This isn’t glamping—it’s good, old-fashioned camping done right. The people here aren’t tourists; they’re weekend regulars, summer loyalists, and full-season campers who roll in with lawn flamingos and lawnmowers. It’s authentic. You feel it the moment you arrive.
Our friend Chris summers here, along with more than a hundred others who’ve made this their seasonal home base. Some park their RVs from May through October; others pop in for holidays or long weekends. It shuts down in winter, but when the season’s in full swing, it hums with life. Residents decorate their lots like permanent homes—flags, fountains, bird feeders, and rock signs mark territory with pride. One standout lot was decked out with hand-carved wooden statues of bears, eagles, elk, and clusters of sunflowers and roses. It was equal parts art gallery and garden haven.
Turns out, that was the Wilsons’ camp—established in 1998. Must be a long-lost cousin. They didn’t just camp; they curated. It was quite a collection. Reminded me of…well…that’s another story. We rode around the grounds in the cart, stopped by the pond beach where families swam and sunbathed, and peeked through trees at secluded spots with Adirondack chairs facing the water. There were no blaring radios. No blinding LED signs. Just the sounds of fountains, frogs, and friendly chatter. There’s a peaceful rhythm to life here. A lake in the middle sparkles with a bubbling fountain, framed by little docks and picnic tables. Just beyond, Ohio’s scenic Grand River meanders gently, lined with dense green forest and river stones. Chris’s spot is right on that river—a front-row seat to creation’s beauty.
And when the sun began to dip behind the trees, it was time to do what campers do best—light a fire and lean in. That night, I settled into a chair by the river with one of my own hand-rolled Wilson craft cigars. The water sparkled faintly in the dusk as the last of the golf carts hummed back to their sites. There’s a quiet satisfaction in places like this. They don’t need marketing slogans. They’re not trying to be discovered. But for those who do find them, they offer something priceless: stillness, connection, and the kind of peace that comes when you realize you’ve landed exactly where you’re meant to be.
