Swimming

Curry Hammock has the calmest paddling water in the Keys - a shallow protected bay where the bottom is visible the whole way and there is nowhere for a novice to get into trouble. Boats are available at the launch, but not from the park - a third-party self-serve kiosk runs on a QR code and a smartphone, so have signal and a card. The beach is small and rarely crowded, which is the trade for it being less spectacular than Bahia Honda. In autumn the park hosts a raptor migration count, and on a good October day thousands of hawks and falcons funnel down the Keys directly overhead. The campground is one of the harder Florida reservations to get.

De Leon Springs pairs a circular walled swimming basin with something no other Florida spring has: a restaurant in the 1830s sugar mill where every table has its own griddle and you pour and flip your own pancakes from a jug of batter. Kids find this considerably more exciting than the spring. The wait for a table routinely exceeds an hour on weekends, so the usual order is to put your name down, swim while you wait, and eat after. The spring itself is a consistent 72 degrees with a dock and ladder entry rather than a beach.

Delnor-Wiggins solves the problem that makes beach days with small children hard: five parking areas spread along the mile of beach mean you are always within a short carry of the car, with restrooms and showers at each. The Gulf here is typically flat and shallow. The pass at the north end has a strong current and is not for swimming, but it is a good spot to watch boats and fish, and the observation tower gives a view over the mangroves. Loggerheads nest along this beach in summer. The lot fills by mid-morning in season.

Devil’s Den is an underground spring inside a dry cave, reached by walking down a wooden staircase into the earth. Light comes through one hole in the roof and falls in a shaft across water that stays at 72 degrees, which on a cold morning makes the whole opening steam - hence the name. Snorkelling here is unlike anything else in Florida: you are floating in a rock room, not a river. It is privately run, reservations are required, and there is a hard minimum age with no swimming for small children. Book well ahead in season.

Wakulla is on a different scale from the other Florida springs - the vent is over 180 feet down and the flow is enormous. The riverboat tour is the reason most families come: a flat-bottomed boat runs downriver past alligators, anhingas, turtles and often manatees, with a guide who has usually been doing it for decades. Swimming is from a dock and diving platform into genuinely deep water, so it suits confident swimmers rather than toddlers. The 1937 lodge above the spring still has its marble floors and a soda fountain, and is worth walking through even if you are not staying.

Florida’s highest waterfall is not what you would expect: a stream runs across flat ground, reaches the edge of a cylindrical sinkhole a hundred feet deep, and falls seventy-three feet into it. The water then vanishes into the aquifer, and its destination has never been established. A boardwalk and stairs descend to viewing platforms inside the sink. It is a short walk, well shaded, and genuinely strange. The fall depends entirely on rainfall - after a dry month it can be a trickle or nothing, so ask when you call. There is a small spring-fed lake for swimming and a campground.

Flamenco earns the superlatives. A mile-long horseshoe of white sand enclosing water that grades from clear to turquoise to deep blue, with a reef at the eastern end for snorkelling and surf gentle enough for children through most of the bay. The odd landmark is a rusting US Navy tank left on the sand from when Culebra was a bombing range, now covered in graffiti and universally photographed. Facilities exist - kiosks, restrooms, showers, camping - which is unusual for a beach this good. Getting there means the Culebra ferry from Ceiba or a small plane, and the ferry is the constraint.

Florida is riddled with caves but almost all of them are underwater; Florida Caverns is the one dry cave with public tours. Rangers lead groups through decorated rooms of stalactites, stalagmites, soda straws and flowstone, on a paved path with lighting, taking about forty-five minutes. It stays at 65 degrees, which in a Panhandle August is the main attraction. There are low sections that require ducking, so it is not stroller-friendly. Tour tickets are sold same-day on a first-come basis and sell out on holiday weekends. Above ground there are trails, a spring-fed swimming area and camping.

Fort De Soto regularly turns up on best-beach-in-America lists, but the reason it belongs on a family list is North Beach’s lagoon - a shallow protected pool separated from the Gulf by a sandbar, where the water is warm, still and waist-deep a long way out. There is a genuine fort to climb over with its original mortars, seven miles of paved trail, a two-mile canoe trail through mangroves, and a large dog park with its own dog beach. The campground sits on the water. It is a county park, so entry is cheap.

Key West is short on good beaches and this is the one locals use. The water drops off quickly compared to Bahia Honda, which makes it less suited to toddlers but much better for snorkelling - the rocky edges hold parrotfish, sergeant majors and the occasional small barracuda within a short swim of the sand. Behind the beach sits the Civil War fort itself, with the largest collection of seacoast cannon in the country and cool brick casemates that make a good hour out of the sun. Water shoes matter here; the entry is rocky.

Gilchrist Blue only became a state park in 2017, and it still feels less discovered than the springs nearer Orlando. The main boil is deep and blue, but the run leading from it to the Santa Fe is knee-to-waist deep over white sand - the ideal place to put a mask on a child for the first time, because they can stand up whenever they want to. Smaller satellite springs sit along the boardwalk. Capacity is limited and the gate closes when the lot fills, which on a hot Saturday can be before eleven.

Cayo Aurora - universally called Gilligan’s Island - is a small mangrove key reached by a ferry that runs every hour or so from the Guánica shore. What makes it work with children is the geography: channels between the mangroves are shallow, clear, protected and warm, so they function as a set of natural pools with fish and starfish in them. There are picnic tables, boardwalks and restrooms and nothing else, so bring food and water. It closes on Mondays. Weekends bring a lively Puerto Rican family crowd with music and coolers, which is either the appeal or the reason to come midweek.

Ginnie is privately owned, which means it charges more than the state parks and allows things they do not - most obviously camping right on the riverbank and tubing without a shuttle. The springs themselves are exceptional: Ginnie Spring proper is a large basin whose clarity is genuinely startling, and Devil’s Eye and Devil’s Ear are the entrances to a cave system that draws technical divers from around the world. For families the draw is the swimming and the drift down the Santa Fe on a tube, with a shuttle back from the take-out. Two things to know before you commit. It is expensive - day admission runs about $40 a head, so a family of four is $160 through the gate before tube hire. And it has historically been a loud drinking scene at summer weekends; an alcohol and open-container policy introduced in 2026 was aimed at that, so check the current rules rather than either assumption. Midweek is quieter regardless.

Grayton has the Panhandle’s signature combination - sand so white it is uncomfortable to look at without sunglasses, and water that genuinely reads as emerald green in the right light. What makes it worth choosing over the identical beach either side is Western Lake, one of only a few dozen coastal dune lakes in the world. The lake sits directly behind the dunes, occasionally breaks through to the Gulf, and is calm brackish water you can paddle a kayak across while the children swim. Kayak and paddleboard rentals are on site, and the campground is well shaded.

Hawksnest is the first national park beach on the north shore road and the easiest to reach, with parking essentially on the sand rather than down a trail. Three patches of elkhorn coral sit close inshore, near enough that a child who can swim thirty metres is over reef, and the bay is usually calm. It is smaller and narrower than Trunk Bay and has fewer facilities - restrooms and grills, no snorkel rental - but it is free where Trunk is ticketed, and far less affected by cruise ship days. Sea grape trees give reasonable shade along the back of the beach.

Henderson Beach preserves a stretch of high natural dune right in the middle of Destin’s development, so you get the Emerald Coast water without the condo wall behind it. Boardwalks cross the dunes to a wide beach with clean facilities, outdoor showers and covered pavilions - the practical details that decide whether a beach day with young children works. A short nature trail loops through the scrub behind the dunes. Being in town, it is an easy stop rather than an expedition, and the parking situation is far better than the public beach accesses nearby.

Honeymoon Beach sits on the Caneel Bay side of the national park and is reached either on foot by the Lind Point Trail from Cruz Bay - about a mile and a half, thirty to forty minutes, with real elevation change - or by water taxi. That walk is what keeps the numbers down, and it is also the thing to plan around: it is hot, exposed in stretches, and longer than it sounds. The bay is sheltered and shallow with good snorkelling along the rocks at either end, and there is a concession renting kayaks, paddleboards and floating mats with a bar and grill attached - unusual for a national park beach and very convenient with children. The trail is easy but has some uneven sections and heat, so carry water for the walk.

Honeymoon Island is the accessible half of the pair - you drive straight onto it, park next to the sand, and the water is shallow and calm enough for small children. Shelling here is unusually good, especially after a winter front pushes material up the beach. The Osprey Trail runs through one of the last virgin slash pine stands on the coast and has active nests visible from the path most of the spring. There is a separate dog beach at the south end where dogs swim off-lead, which is rare in Florida state parks. The ferry to Caladesi leaves from here.

The Ichetucknee River runs six miles from a cluster of springs to the Santa Fe, and floating it is one of the great Florida family days. The water holds 72 degrees year-round and is clear enough to watch turtles and gar pass underneath you. Summer tube launches are capped and the north launch fills early, so arrive at opening. The shorter south launch float runs about 45 minutes and suits younger kids; the full north-launch float is around three hours and is better for ages 8 and up. Outside summer the tube concession closes but the park stays open for swimming and paddling.

The Juniper Run is the most memorable paddle in central Florida and the least suitable for beginners. Seven miles of creek so narrow that in places you push off both banks, with fallen logs to duck and no way out once you start - reckon on four hours. A concession runs rentals and a shuttle; if you bring your own boat you must launch before 1pm and only 30 private vessels are allowed on the run each day, so it is worth a phone call first. Older kids love it; it is genuinely a bad idea with a five-year-old. The swimming area is a separate and much gentler proposition, a stone-walled pool built by the Civilian Conservation Corps around the spring boil, with the old millhouse and its water wheel still standing above it.