Carabelle, the beginning of Florida’s “Big Bend”, is a small fishing port, primarily for recreational boating, nestled in the forest on the north bank of the Carabelle River delta as the river meets the Gulf of Mexico.
The nature of the Florida coast changes dramatically north of Carabelle as sandy beaches give way to a fusion of fresh and salt water in vast tidal marshes laced with creeks and bayous. By necessity the highway veers away from the marsh land and circles through the trees about 10-15 miles north of the gulf as Hwy 98 turns around Florida’s Big Bend and begins to head south down the Florida peninsula.
The apex of the Gulf of Mexico blends into land in the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge and I detour into the refuge for 11 miles to visit the lighthouse on the southern edge of the marsh. Heading into the refuge the forests of northern Florida gradually give way to waves of sawgrass.
The refuge is known as a bird-watchers paradise and even on a chilly morning mid-week the road into the refuge is busy. It is small comfort to find out that even here, out in the middle of nowhere, the annoying, self-absorbed tourist is still present. The two women on the left, pointing at something in the distance, simply parked their car on the road, not only blocking traffic from heading south but slowing down oncoming traffic to a crawl as they stand barely off the pavement. I’ll reserve further comment to myself…
Around the roadblock the road continues to lace its’ way through tidal marsh until the lighthouse appears in the distance.
The first lighthouse was built on a small promontory at the edge of the marsh in 1830. Erosion forced the tower to be moved to its present location in 1842. Confederate troops occupied the lighthouse during the Civil War though the light itself was disabled in order to not guide the Union ships blockading the bay through the maze of waterways to the port of St. Marks upriver. The Confederates attempted to blow up the lighthouse in March 1865 during their retreat but only damaged the tower. The tower was rebuilt immediately following the war and has withstood many hurricanes over the years to remain an operational lighthouse. A small parking lot sits next to the lighthouse (so small that I couldn’t easily turn around, had to do the “back up and pivot” strategy to leave the lot.) I also couldn’t stand back far enough to get a clear view of the lighthouse and keeper’s cottage so had to photograph through the trees.
Perched at the base of the lighthouse the view stretches south out across the mudflats exposed at low tide into the Gulf of Mexico.
Driving the 11 miles back north to the highway and continuing east we are again traveling through the dense forests of northern Florida.
Farther away from the actual coastline the land rises just enough to dry and evidence of north Florida’s cattle ranching begins to appear.
At Chiefland our path veers off Hwy 98 to touch the coast at Keaton Beach, a remote recreational fishing and beach house village with a small sandy beach interrupting the flow of sawgrass along what is now called the “Nature Coast.” Spanish moss beings to drape the trees as we approach the beach.
Keaton Beach is not a resort town, the road leading to the small sandy beach is lined with individual homes, most appearing to be beach rentals, not hotels and restaurants.
Just south of Keaton Beach the ocean of sawgrass and mudflats reappears and again the road has to turn inland.
The former timber mill town of Steinhatchee hugs the north bank of the Steinhatchee River just upriver from its outlet into the Gulf of Mexico. Fishing, both commercial and recreational, and tourism drives the local economy. The gulf shallows in the area are famed for scallops, stone crabs and blue crabs. The marina is so popular that the available space for storing boats is maximized by boat elevators.
Crossing the river and continuing southeast Steinhatchee is tucked away in trees up river from the marina.
The coast is virtually inaccessible to automobile traffic south of Keaton Beach as it stretches in a mixture of swamp and sawgrass so we circle inland through forest and cattle country. At Chiefland a path to the coast darts west to the Cedar Keys, at first past cattle land and then through dense coastal forests before bursting forth into seas dotted with numerous small islands, or keys as they are called in Florida.
Cedar Key
The Cedar Keys are a collection of small islands clustered off the coast of Florida south of the Suwanee River. The presence of Native Americans in the keys has been well documented, with artifacts found in an archaeological dig at Shell Mound, about nine miles north of Cedar Key, dating back to 500 BC. The Seminole Indians fought with the US Army over a series of wars in the first half of the 1800’s and various keys in the area were used for a fort, hospital, and lighthouse. A hurricane and accompanying 27-foot storm surge devastated the keys in 1842 and the area was essentially abandoned by the military. Private citizens began to settle on some of the islands and Cedar Key became an important port, particularly for the shipping of cedar milled from the surrounding stands of red cedar on the mainland. The area was extensively logged for cedar used in the making of cedar shakes and pencils. In 1860 Cedar Key became the western terminus of the Florida Railroad, connecting the Gulf of Mexico with the port of Fernandina Beach on the Atlantic. Eventually the railroads chose the much larger and better situated port of Tampa over Cedar Key for the western terminus and Cedar Key began to decline. A hurricane in September 1896 destroyed the island, killing nearly a fourth of the population and leading to the further abandonment of the island by business. At the same time the red cedar which formed the foundation of the timber industry in the area became logged out. Small scale ocean farming, especially for scallops, clams and oysters, emerged as a continuing lifeline for the few people who remained in Cedar Key. Today Cedar Key is home to an eclectic mix of fisherman and tourists. The paucity of land prevents it from large-scale development and preserves the “Old Florida” charm. It was a fun place to visit!
The Island Hotel anchors far end of the small village center. The building was constructed in 1859 and has survived many hurricanes. First used as a general store, over the years it served as a post office, customs house, boarding house, and became a hotel in 1946.
The rest of the commercial area stretches north on the east side of the street, home to restaurants, art galleries, and retail.
A small “art park” interrupts the stretch of historic buildings.
The 1898 Schlemmer Boarding House stands out on the south side of the street.
At the far end of the three blocks is the Cedar Key Museum, housed in the 1871 Lutteroh Building. J.B. Lutteroh was a local attorney who lived in the upstairs apartment and had his office on the main floor.
Dock Street curves out from the main island in the shape of a “D” across to a small island, protecting a small harbor and providing unobstructed access to fishing. It is low tide so the channel between the main island and the businesses of Dock Street is mostly exposed mud.
At the north end of Dock Street are the public fishing piers.
The view from the end of the pier looks out to fishing boats and other keys dotting sapphire blue seas.
Walking out onto the pier I turn around and see the “back” of the tourist businesses that line Dock Street, built out over the water.
At the land end of the fishing piers Dock Street curves around to rejoin the main island.
Golf carts are the best way to navigate around Cedar Key (certainly not a motorhome, it only worked for me because the Lunch Box is so short and it’s the off-season!) and the golf cart rental “office” is open for business.
The marina is virtually empty this morning, but a full parking lot of boat trailers shows that it’s empty because they are all out on the gulf fishing.
Driving around the keys is challenging, roads are narrow and seldom straight. Here’s a view of the bridge that links the small airfield on a neighboring key to the main key that houses the downtown area.
Housing is an eclectic mix, lining the shore are newer homes built on piers along with cottages from earlier eras while back away from the coastline are homes where probably the workers live.
What a cool, out of the way place to visit!
Heading back to Hwy 98 the road south begins to become a little more heavily travelled. This portion of the Nature Coast is known for the many freshwater springs the bubble up a short distance from the gulf, giving rise to multiple crystal clear creeks and rivers.
Crystal River is considered the heart of the Nature Coast, situated around various inlets of Kings Bay, many flowing from one of the 70 freshwater springs in the area. The area began to be settled after the Civil War by people attracted by the mild climate and potential riches from growing citrus fruits. Settlers found stands of wild orange trees, the result of early Spanish explorers centuries earlier discarding seeds from fruit that they had brought with them from Spain. Unfortunately the “Big Freeze” of 1894-1895 destroyed most of the fruit trees across central Florida, creating a major impediment to the development of the industry. During the end of the 1800’s a cedar mill flourished in the area, much like we saw on Cedar Key, processing the red cedar found in the area into material to be shipped north for the milling of pencils. The arrival of the railroad in 1888 began the era of tourism, which is a primary driver of the local economy today.
Much of the development of the small town of around 3,000 people occurred after the advent of the automobile and Hwy 98 is the strip that flows through town with all of the associated stores, restaurants, etc. A small cluster of restaurants, boutiques and art galleries line both sides of North Citrus Avenue just off Hwy 98 in early 20th Century Craftsman homes repurposed for today’s use.
Across Hwy 98 South Citrus Ave runs a few blocks before ending at Hunter Springs Park. Hunter Springs bubbles up about 100 feet off shore at a year-round constant temperature of around 72 degrees F at the end of an inlet leading to Kings Bay. The inlet is surrounded by park land and tourist boat docks. Kayakers and tourist tour boats dart about on the shimmering surface on their way out to Kings Bay.
A wooden boardwalk arcs out over the water allowing me to take a picture down into the startling clear water.
South of Crystal River traffic really begins to back up and frequent stretches of road construction impede our progress so I leave the Nature Coast area and strike out inland.
I had been planning on doing this anyway a bit farther down the road because I am going to try and “thread the needle” between the urban sprawl of Tampa-St Petersburg on the Gulf of Mexico and the tourist/retirement mecca of the Orlando area to the east. The 60 mile drive from Homosassa to Zephyrhills takes me through rural Florida, an area of rolling hills and forested valleys. Brooksville is the county seat of Hernando County and the small otherwise unremarkable town clusters around the top of a hill which is crowned by the distinguished 1913 Hernando County Courthouse. Across the street from the courthouse is another remnant of a more recent past, a repurposed Texaco gas station from the 1950’s.
As we leave Brooksville the view down the hill is of the forested hills and dales of west central Florida.
25 miles later is Dade City, county seat of Pasco County. Like Brooksville, not a particularly memorable stop except for the striking Pasco County Courthouse, built in 1909.
Zephyrhills, 12 miles south of Dade City, is a town in transition. Located 45 minutes from Tampa it is transforming from a cattle ranching/farming community to a bedroom community for those commuting to work in the Tampa Bay area. Here a brief detour west takes us to our last stop on the Nature Coast, Tarpon Springs. The road west to Tarpon Springs alternates between cattle pastures and suburban development, all easily taken in from 30 miles of bumper to bumper traffic, even in the middle of the day.
Tarpon Springs
Back near the coast near the southern end of the Nature Coast the land is laced with springs feeding a maze of bayous around the Anclote River estuary. Farmers and fishermen settled the area in 1876 and named the site Tarpon Springs, after the tarpon (a fish) that jump up to feed on insects in the air. In 1888 the Orange Belt Railway arrived in the city and it quickly became a winter refuge for wealthy people from up north. A small village developed at the head of Spring Bayou along Tarpon Avenue as it stretches east. Today the village center is alive with antique shops, boutiques and restaurants housed in buildings from the early 1900’s.
The western edge of the village center fronts on Spring Bayou.
North Spring Blvd runs west along the north side of the bayou and is where the wealthy built their summer homes during the late 1800’s.
While northerners were enjoying the mild winters along Spring Bayou in 1905 a major industry sprung to life about a mile north along the Anclote River. In 1895 John Cocoris immigrated to New York City from Greece to work in the sponge trade. Learning that the Tarpon Springs area of Florida was a prime source of sponges, he moved to the Tarpon Springs in 1896. Cocoris knew from his experience back in the Dodecanese Islands of Greece that sponges thrive in warm waters off the coast and are most effectively harvested by deep sea divers. Cocoris spread the word back to Greece of the potential and other immigrants began to move to the area. In 1905 he and five other Greeks formed the first sponge diving company in Tarpon Springs and by the 1920’s the sponge industry was the largest industry in the area. Greek immigrants continued to migrate to the Tarpon Springs and the neighborhoods south of the docks along Dodecanese Boulevard on the south bank of the Anclote River developed into a large Greek community. Today the sponge industry continues and the area has developed into a tourist destination. Dodecanese is lined with Greek restaurants and shops for blocks along the river on both sides of the street except in the center of the area where the sponge boats dock. Let’s walk down Dodecanese from east to west.
An interesting little community just off the highway on the northern edge of the Tampa metropolitan area. The next stage of my journey takes me between two of the major metropolitan areas in Florida, Tampa/St. Petersburg on the Gulf and Orlando in central Florida, about 60 miles to the west. I head back to Zephyrhills before veering southeast between the two spider webs of urban sprawl.
Next up: Lake Country
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