Here’s something we don’t say enough: we live in a state made of miracles. Every day, the sun climbs up over the dunes, lights the mossy hammocks, catches on the brilliant green of the mangroves. And most days, we’re too busy to notice.
Florida has 175 state parks, more than nearly any other state—not to mention three national parks (Everglades, Dry Tortugas, and Biscayne). Six of those state parks stretch across the Treasure Coast like a green sash. These aren’t just picnic spots; they’re habitats for species that exist nowhere else. They’re classrooms, temples, escape hatches… reminders that the real Florida isn’t found behind a gated entrance.
Earlier this year, state officials quietly floated a plan to allow development on park lands—golf courses, hotels, pickleball courts, the usual suspects. The idea was simple: let’s monetize paradise. But the backlash was swift and loud, and for once, democracy did what it was supposed to. Locals organized. Protesters showed up with hand-painted signs. And in May, Governor Ron DeSantis signed a bill making it illegal to develop state park land without public input and layers of oversight.
So now what? Now we appreciate what we almost lost. We go hiking in the places where they wanted to pour concrete. We kayak the inlets they wanted to dredge. We bring bug spray and a cheap cooler and remember that Florida, for all its chaos, still has corners where wildness wins.
Here are 10 nearby state parks worth falling in love with again.
Atlantic Ridge Preserve State Park
There’s a quiet wildness to Atlantic Ridge, a kind of low whisper from the saw palmettos and longleaf pines as you move along the sandy trails. This park hasn’t been manicured or prettified, and that’s what makes it so beautiful. Covering 4,800 acres of pine flatwoods and hydric hammock, it’s one of those places where you can still get lost in the best way. The main trails are accessible by foot or bike, and a handful of them wind into the St. Lucie River floodplain, where red-shouldered hawks watch from above and deer scatter into the brush. Not many people come here, which means you might have it to yourself—just you, the wind, and a trail that feels like it’s waiting for someone to notice. 8120 SE Paulson Ave., Stuart
Avalon State Park
On this quiet stretch of North Hutchinson Island, the beach is wide and windswept, with the kind of dunes that make you feel like you’ve stumbled into a different decade. Avalon’s shoreline has barely changed in a century—except maybe for the occasional snorkeler spotting sunken artifacts from the World War II amphibious training ground just offshore. Sea turtles love this place. So do snowy plovers and retirees with folding chairs and a paperback. It’s one of the few beaches in Florida that still feels unbothered, wild even, and that’s the point. State Road A1A North, North Hutchinson Island, Fort Pierce
Fort Pierce Inlet State Park
This is where surfers go when the waves are right. Where anglers cast lines off the jetty at sunrise. Where families walk out past the dunes and discover a beach that still feels like a beach—no condos creeping up behind the palms, no umbrellas stacked five deep. Fort Pierce Inlet State Park comprises just 340 acres, but it packs in a lot: a tidal pool for snorkeling, mangrove-lined trails for paddling, and a stretch of sand that’s long enough to wander into solitude. On the west side of the park, a coastal hammock loop trail lets you disappear into the shade for a bit. And every once in a while, you might look up and see a gopher tortoise lumbering along, minding its own business. Just like you. 905 Shorewinds Drive, Fort Pierce
John D. MacArthur Beach State Park
This is what it looks like when a barrier island is left to its own devices. MacArthur’s beaches feel primal—sand pines leaning toward the tide, ospreys overhead, and mangroves whispering to each other at the waterline. You’ll cross a winding boardwalk to reach the beach, or paddle out to Munyon Island, where raccoons have a little dominion of their own. The nature center is excellent, but the real magic is outside: nesting turtles, shell-covered shores, and the rare moment where you can hear nothing but surf and your own breath. 10900 Jack Nicklaus Drive, North Palm Beach
Jonathan Dickinson State Park
If Florida had a national park equivalent to Yosemite, this would be it. At 11,500 acres, Jonathan Dickinson is massive, sprawling across pine flatwoods, coastal sandhills, and floodplain swamps—all of it dissected by the slow and winding Loxahatchee River. You can hike or bike for hours here and not see another soul, unless you count the Florida scrub jays, which you should. There’s an old Army base hidden in the woods, a pioneer trapper’s homestead on the riverbank, and a strange feeling that the real Florida is still breathing underfoot. 16450 SE Federal Hwy., Hobe Sound
Okeechobee Battlefield Historic State Park
You won’t find nature trails or kayak launches here. What you will find is a field—a wide, unassuming patch of prairie land in Okeechobee that looks like any other stretch of central Florida. But this land remembers. In 1837, it was the site of one of the largest and bloodiest battles of the Second Seminole War. Today, it’s a quiet monument to that history. A paved walking loop outlines the battlefield, and interpretive signs tell the story of the Seminole warriors and U.S. troops who clashed here. Every January, reenactors return in full dress to honor the fight and its legacy. It’s not the most scenic park in Florida—but it might be one of the most important. 3500 SE 38th Ave., Okeechobee
Savannas Preserve State Park
Here’s your chance to see what Florida looked like before the strip malls and medians. Savannas Preserve is 7,000 acres of freshwater marsh and pine flatwoods, with wide-open skies and trails that thread through a habitat so old it feels sacred. You might see a gopher tortoise crossing the path or a roseate spoonbill lifting off like something from a dream. This is also one of the last strongholds of the Florida scrub jay, a bird that doesn’t migrate or retreat—but just stays put and hopes we keep fighting for it. 2541 SE Walton Road, Port St. Lucie
Seabranch Preserve State Park
Seabranch is the introvert of the group—less signage, fewer visitors, no gift shop, just you and the sound of the wind in the pines. The trails are sandy and unmarked, which means you’ll need a little sense of direction and a lot of respect. What you’ll find here is the Treasure Coast as it once was: wildflowers on the ridge, gopher tortoises sunning themselves, and bald eagles watching from above. Bring a compass. Leave with a better sense of where you are. 6093 SE Dixie Hwy., Stuart
St. Lucie Inlet Preserve State Park
You can’t drive here; you have to boat in, which makes arriving feel like a secret. St. Lucie Inlet Preserve is 928 acres of mangroves, dunes, and dense coastal hammock, all wrapped around a crescent of white sand and blue water. There’s a boardwalk that stretches from dock to beach, and just offshore, a reef where snorkelers chase flashes of color through the sea. If you’re lucky, you’ll spot a manatee. If you’re quieter, maybe even a bobcat. But even if you see nothing but sun and sky, that’s enough. Jupiter Island
St. Sebastian River Preserve State Park
If you want to see what Old Florida looked like before the highways, before the condos, before the last orange grove gave way to pavement—come here. St. Sebastian River Preserve stretches over 22,000 acres, one of the largest intact longleaf pine habitats in the state. The park straddles the Brevard County–Indian River County line, with trails that cut through pine flatwoods, cypress domes, and seasonal wetlands. It’s a birder’s paradise—red-cockaded woodpeckers nest in the pines, and swallow-tailed kites soar overhead in the spring. You can spot wild turkeys, river otters, even the occasional black bear if you’re lucky and quiet enough. Horseback riders and mountain bikers share some of the 60 miles of trails, and a scenic drive loops through the preserve if you’re just here for the views. But give yourself time. This is not a place to rush. 1000 Buffer Preserve Drive, Fellsmere
Wildlife Wins
The State Park Preservation Act
The threat came quiet at first—a mention at a meeting, a stray document outlining proposals to build golf courses, event spaces, and lodges inside Florida’s state parks. When Casey Darling Kniffin of the Florida Wildlife Federation got a call about it, she couldn’t believe it could be true. “My first reaction was like, no way,” she recalls. “They couldn’t. They wouldn’t.” Then she saw the plans for herself. And it wasn’t just Jonathan Dickinson. It was nine parks across the state.
The Florida Department of Environmental Protection announced its Great Outdoors Initiative in August 2024, stating (in part) that it would increase the number of outdoor recreation opportunities available in Florida’s state parks. Unfortunately, those rec opportunities included building things like pickleball and golf courses in some parks.
Word spread fast. On the Treasure Coast, where development plans first surfaced, the movement became a rallying cry. Kniffin helped organize a social media campaign. Environmental activist Jessica Namath started the Protect JDSP group on Facebook—which quickly grew to 25,000 followers (a number that has nearly doubled since). Wildlife advocate Jeff Corwin wrote op-eds in local papers and appeared on TV speaking out against the developments. Thousands of people wrote letters, showed up at protests, and shared maps of endangered habitats within the parks. Says Kniffin: “Floridians came together—and they spoke very loudly.”
And we were heard. Local legislators responded with the State Park Preservation Act, which Governor Ron DeSantis signed in the spring. The act, which went into effect in July, strengthens protections, offering assurances that our parks won’t become future commercial developments. In part, the act states that the Florida DEP shall “manage state parks and preserves in a manner that will provide the greatest combination of benefits to the public and to the land’s natural resources, as well as for conservation-based recreational uses, public access, Florida heritage and wildlife viewing, and scientific research.” It also requires a public hearing for all updated land management plans.
It is a win to be sure—for nature, its inhabitants, and the locals who care. Says Eve Samples, executive director of Friends of the Everglades: “The fight to protect Florida’s state parks demonstrated how much Floridians cherish our lands. “It was really a remarkable example of the public rising up.” Read the bill in its entirety at flsenate.gov/session/bill/2025/80.
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