Here's one coast you'll not forget

With a little effort, visitors can enjoy an array of out-of-the-way stops.
By CATHY SECKMAN
VINDICATOR CORRESPONDENT
Plenty of Florida communities vie for tourist dollars by calling themselves "forgotten," and sometimes they really are.
On a midwinter trip to northwest Florida's "Forgotten Coast," we found empty beaches, unfilled campgrounds and miles of undeveloped land. We also saw overpriced real estate, crowded state parks and beaches marred by strings of bars and tattoo parlors. It all depends on where you look.
The hunt for forgetfulness started in Laguna Beach, which looks nice on a map, just a small dot on the Gulf, south of Pensacola and north of Panama City. The beaches there are fabulous, with soft, sugar-white sand and flaming sunsets.
What the map doesn't tell you, though, is that Laguna Beach is only an extension of Panama City, a booming honky-tonk stretch of T-shirt shops, bars, cheap rentals and tattoo parlors. Spring Break is big here, and the merchants are geared more for the college crowd than the family vacation crowd. If this coast had ever been forgotten, someone remembered in a big way.
South of Panama City, Mexico Beach has suffered the same fate, but the honky-tonk noise fades considerably at the next town, Apalachicola. Nature takes over at this small point of land that droops down from Florida's northern panhandle.
The point is surrounded by St. Joe Spit to the west, St. Vincent Island to the south and St. George Island to the east.
A pristine area
State parks and nature preserves keep the area pristine. At the state parks on the peninsulas and islands, nature rules. Canoers, kayakers and bird-watchers visit St. Joe, while swimmers and fishermen head to St. George. St. Joseph Peninsula State Park was rated America's No. 1 Beach in 2002, which keeps the state park campground full almost year-round. For its beautifully spacious campground and its deluxe waterfront cabins, reservations must be made 11 months in advance, and there is a two-week limit.
For the same beach with a little less ambience, wintertime camping is a lot more available a few miles down the road, at the ocean-front Presnell's Bayside Marina and RV Resort.
The pretty little town of Apalachicola boasts 3,000 year-round residents, a working waterfront district and plenty of history. Visitors to the Gorrie Museum, for instance, can learn the history of the item that made Florida a tourist destination in the first place -- air conditioning. The work of native son Dr. John Gorrie in making ice for his yellow-fever patients led to the ice industry and, eventually, air conditioning.
Just around the curve of the coastline to the east, Bald Point State Park on the St. James Peninsula is a park in the making. Everything there is "proposed," and its most impressive feature is its entry gate. An active volunteer program is working to upgrade facilities, which so far only include picnicking, swimming and fishing areas. Solitude is easy to find here, and wildlife is abundant.
Moving along
Continuing south on a hunt through the Forgotten Coast, the next stop is Taylor County, a surprisingly empty stretch of coastline with only one actual tourist area, Steinhatchee.
Timber is the big industry here. Taylor County calls itself the "Tree Capital of the South," and the Florida Forest Festival is held here every October. On the 38-mile drive from the county seat of Perry to the coastal town of Steinhatchee, there is literally nothing to see but lumber trucks and pine groves in various stages of harvest.
The town has some marinas, some condominium developments and some restaurants. Roy's is an excellent waterfront choice for seafood. The town's obligatory gift shop, the Sea Witch, offers crafts made by local artists.
Hopscotching down the coast, there are other tiny tourist traps that you can enjoy without crowds or commercialization.
Horseshoe Bend, for instance, has three churches, a bank, two realty offices, a lunch stand and a general store. There isn't even an elementary school or a doctor's office, let alone a fast-food franchise.
Gill netting used to be the big industry here, but most locals make their living building and selling vacation homes and docks for visitors, or guiding sport fishermen. Many property owners in Horseshoe Bend set up their campers on city lots year-round because there's no zoning to prevent it. You have to be really fond of your camper, though, because an improved city lot on a canal sells for $215,000.
Water recreation
Suwannee, at the mouth of the Suwannee River, is just a bit bigger than Horseshoe Bend, and has the cachet of Stephen Foster's famous folk song to recommend it. Water recreation is the big draw here, from fishing to houseboating to diving.
At the next stop south, the interlocking islands of Cedar Key are the last place to find winter solitude before crowds and commercialization take over the coast. Cedar Key also lacks franchises and minimalls, but it has more of a tourist atmosphere. It's been saved from the Spring Break crowd, though, by its lack of beaches. The city park boasts the only sandy beach, and it's a small one.
The restaurants along the pier are plentiful and good, and there are no end of gift shops and art galleries to entertain the serious shopper. Two museums in Cedar Key educate visitors about pencils and whisk brooms, the town's bygone industries.
It's a good town for bicycles and golf carts, and the bays and bayous surrounding the islands are made for canoes and kayaks.
A trip down the Forgotten Coast proves there are still open roads and unspoiled coastlines in Florida. It just takes a little effort to find them.