The Trailist: Woodlawn Lake Park is a century-old community space on the West Side

Woodlawn Lake Park, a long-established public space on the city’s West Side, was one of the main reasons my wife, Jess, and I bought a house in the nearby Jefferson neighborhood in January. 

The park is usually full of people walking or running along the concrete trail that circumnavigates the lake. That main loop is 1.4 miles long, with a 0.2-mile spur that extends under Josephine Tobin Drive on the lake’s northwestern side. After crossing under the street, the spur trail passes along the shore before reaching the Centennial Garden, where the Woodlawn Lake Community Association and city planted native plants to celebrate the park’s 100th anniversary in 2018.

That longevity puts Woodlawn Lake Park in the same category as Brackenridge Park or Olmos Basin, urban parks with long histories and many transformations over the years. Originally developed in 1877 by private developers as an amenity for a subdivision called West End Town, the city acquired the land in 1918.

The park is best known for hosting the city’s Fourth of July celebrations, the park and lakeshore filling with families gathering for the fireworks display that reflects off the water. The city also hosts its popular Earth Day celebration there.

Ordinary days at Woodlawn Lake Park are busy, too. Every time I visit, I see families at the playground, pickup basketball games and people fishing from the public pier, hoping to snag one of the bass or catfish Texas Parks and Wildlife plop into the lake by the thousands each year. On its south side, the park also features a small fishing pond, plus a community center and dance studio named after Berta Almaguer, an immigrant from Mexico who founded the city’s dance education program in 1934.

The main loop around the lake has become my regular running spot. I like how the loop is short enough to run multiple laps, with varied enough scenery to keep them interesting. I also appreciate having a place in the neighborhood to run without being exposed to traffic.

Most of the time, the trail has too many walkers and runners to be bike-friendly (although people still try weaving among pedestrians). Also, during summer months, it’s easy to overheat on the trail from late morning through afternoon. Under the midday sun, much of the trail is exposed, especially on its northern and eastern sides where the park has little tree cover. 

Luckily, the park also has a swimming pool. It opens on the weekends during pre-season from mid-May to mid-June and six days a week from mid-June through mid-August. This year, the Woodlawn Lake Pool remains open 1-8 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays through Sept. 15. 

Lately, I’ve been running at the park early mornings or late evenings when the light is low and the surface of the lake reflects pink and gold. The setting sun also casts a golden hue over the lighthouse standing in the middle of the lake, illuminating the yellow domes of the nearby Basilica of the National Shrine of the Little Flower, with the towers of downtown rising behind it.

In this light, it’s hard to see the pieces of trash hanging just below the surface. By kayak, they’re obvious – containers, trash bags, and old shirts and blankets buoyed by trapped gas bubbles, lurking like schools of dark jellyfish.

The trash flows into Woodlawn Lake mainly via the Seeling Channel, a concrete conduit that protects the neighborhoods upstream from flooding. Dozens of square miles of streets, rooftops, and concrete drain into the lake, bringing a flood of bottles, cans, bags, plastic foam and other detritus. The runoff also brings sediment that gradually fills in the lake. According to the city, the lake was dredged to increase its depth at least four times during the 20th century. 

At times, the lake has been deep enough for people to launch sailboats, but these days it remains too shallow. Instead, sailors use small, remote-controlled vessels. On Sundays, parkgoers can watch members of the Woodlawn Lake Sailing Club as they pilot their tiny crafts around a shallow area marked with buoys near the fishing pier.

If the lake was dredged again, I wonder if it would contain just as much trash as sediment. Fortunately, the city is working on tackling this problem in part by contracting with River Aid San Antonio, the nonprofit where I serve as board president, to clean this litter from Woodlawn at least once a month. The first Sunday of each month, we show up with kayaks and trash bags, along with crews on land, to gather as much trash as possible in a day. That’s given me a chance to see – and smell – the lake from a new angle.

The experience has been one of intense contrast. On one hand, the trash can be horrific. Once, we pulled on a segment of half-submerged black plastic sheeting, reeling it into our boats one handful at a time. It seemed never-ending, with more and more emerging from the water with each yank. I kept pulling on it to find the end, eventually following it into the blackness of a massive storm drain before finally deciding to cut it.

Water quality is clearly a concern, especially in the summer when a lack of fresh runoff allows the stagnant water in the lake to grow algae and develop a funky smell. The lake is only 6-9 feet deep at most, with the shallow areas only 2-3 feet. Bacteria in the runoff and from animal droppings that wash into the lake are also a serious concern. Only experienced paddlers should canoe or kayak here because, while the water is smooth, you don’t want to fall in and risk getting it in your mouth or an open cut. 

On the other hand, despite the trash and the poor water quality, the lake is teeming with life. As we paddle, tiny turtle heads dip below the water at our approach. Large fish have leaped into our boats while we’ve been pulling trash from the cattails. YouTube is full of videos of local anglers catching surprisingly big fish there.

The cattails, cypress trees, willows, and other riparian plants are providing shade and habitat for all variety of waterfowl. The lake is now home to an egret and heron rookery congregating in the cypress trees near the tennis courts. In May, my fellow River Aid volunteer Chris Belcher even captured photos of roseate spoonbills, a large, pink, flamingo-looking bird more common on the Gulf Coast.

The invasive Egyptian geese seem to run the place, forming gaggles that patrol the parking lots and lakesides for food, leaving a smear of droppings on the boat ramp. There’s also a swan or two gliding through the water or warily watching people walking by with their dogs.

One species whose origins surprised me is the Muscovy duck, those typically black and white ducks with warty red blotches on their faces. I had figured, because “Muscovy” is an archaic name for “Moscow,” that they came from Eurasia, another non-native species that’s gone feral, like wild pigs.

I learned while writing this that these ducks originate in what is now Latin America, from South America all the way to northern Mexico, with a little piece of their wild range extending into far South Texas. According to the Cornell Bird Laboratory, Aztec rulers wore cloaks made from their feathers, with the duck associated with the wind god Ehecatl. 

In its early days, according to the city’s park webpage, water filled the lake via two artesian wells, where water flows to the surface without any pumping required. This wouldn’t be possible today because of the pumping demands on the Edwards Aquifer. The lake – filled with sparklingly clean water flowing up from the earth – must have looked beautiful.

Though swimming in the lake may not be a possibility for many years, I look forward to seeing how residents and the city will continue to work together to improve the park. This year, the city applied for a $3.25 million grant to plant 500 new trees at the park, improve the lake’s shoreline and add new seating and a splash pad.