I Came, I Saw, I Ran: A Day of Old Florida, State Parks & One Very Creepy Sinkhole

I was halfway down a staircase into a giant prehistoric sinkhole when I heard a noise from somewhere above. There wasn't another person in the park. Within seconds I was sprinting back to my car.

But to explain how I ended up running from a Florida sinkhole at sunset, we need to start several hours earlier at a citrus shop in Citra.

The Orange Shop's iconic sign

On a trip back to Naples, I routed myself through Orlando specifically to explore a stretch of Central Florida I'd never been to. I anchored the whole day around a sign. Specifically, the vintage sign at The Orange Shop in Citra, which I'd spotted online and immediately knew I wanted a picture of.

The Orange Shop has been open since 1936, but the family behind it has been growing citrus in Florida since after the Civil War, three generations and still going. The store itself is cute, and stocked with citrus products, souvenirs, and goodies I did not need but absolutely tried anyway (loved the citrus gummies). The sign delivers that perfect Old Florida energy, the kind that makes you pull over, get out of the car, and take seventeen pictures. It's a bit off the beaten path, but I wasn’t the only one doing it.  The blue sky framed it perfectly, and I got a shot that is now hanging up in my bathroom.

Marjorie Kinnan Rawling's Farm House

From there, I headed to Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings Historic State Park, and the drive alone was worth it. That part of Florida still looks the way Florida should look, lush, green, without a strip mall in sight. Rawlings, author of The Yearling, lived and worked on this farmstead in the 1930s, and the place still carries that quiet. The day I visited, a handful of people wandered around the old homestead while a breeze moved through the trees. The park has several nature trails and a boat launch, if you enjoy history and are looking for a relaxing park, this is it. 

MIcanopy Main Street

Next up was Micanopy. I'd seen one of those social media videos declaring it one of the best small towns in Florida you have to visit, and I was curious enough to add it to the route. It's one street, lined with old trees draped in Spanish moss, with cute cafes, gift shops and antique shops tucked inside charming old buildings. A little park in the middle of town had vintage street lamps to light it up, and a bed and breakfast sat on the edge of it all. I was there on a weekday around lunch and not everything was open. I imagine it really comes alive on evenings and weekends. It looked like the kind of place you'd book a night just to slow down for a bit, wander around, and not be in a hurry about anything. It earned the social media hype.

Payne's Prairie State Park Observation Tower

Paynes Prairie State Park was next, and I wish I had given myself more time here. The drive in immerses you in nature immediately, and the park itself encompasses over 21,000 acres of open prairie that looks absolutely nothing like Florida. I climbed the wooden observation tower hoping to see a herd of wild bison and horses that reside there, but none were around.  The view of the vast prairie was beautiful and made me feel like I Was back in the Midwest instead of Florida. Payne’s Prairie offers camping, biking, hiking, fishing, horseback riding, and geocaching.  Be sure to give yourself more time than I did, so you can check out some of their activities.

The final stop was Devil's Millhopper Geological State Park, just outside Gainesville, and I was really excited about this one. I'd seen it in travel videos, and multiple park rangers at other parks had told me it was their favorite. The park centers around a massive sinkhole where scientists have unearthed marine fossils. A boardwalk staircase descends into the sinkhole, allowing visitors to experience what feels like an entirely different ecosystem hidden below ground level. It sounded amazing.

But I arrived at sunset. Alone. The parking lot was empty. The visitor center was closed. No signs of people anywhere.

I grew up in a city. Noise was constant, people were always around, and if something shady happened there was usually someone nearby to help. Nature is a different situation that I still haven’t quite gotten used to. No traffic. No voices. No witnesses. I love avoiding crowds, but one or two casually existing humans in the general vicinity is quietly comforting. There is something about being completely alone in a dark and quiet place with nobody around that short-circuits the rational part of my brain. If you're a fellow city person, you might know what I mean.

Devil's Milhopper Geological State Park - Stairs to Sinkhole

So descending into a prehistoric ravine full of fossils while daylight disappeared and strange sounds echoed through the trees was perhaps not my ideal situation. I calmly walked to the park building, expecting to see a park ranger closing up for the night.  It was already closed, which did nothing for my nerves, so I picked up the pace.  I jogged down the zigzagging path to the wooden stairs and quickly made my way to the halfway point for a quick picture.  I was debating about going all the way down, but then I heard a sound above me, and decided the last place I wanted to be was at the bottom of the stairs, trapped next to a swampy hole – and I sprinted back up the stairs and all the way to the safety of my car.  If there had been people there, they may have heard the sound of tires screeching out of the parking lot.

Was it a squirrel that made that noise?  Maybe.  Possibly even something much smaller.  I’m not proud of the fact that I let myself get creeped out and sprinted out of there.  But sadly, this wasn’t the first time I have gotten creeped out and run from imaginary danger, and guessing it won’t be the last.

From what I saw of the park as I ran through, it looked very nice and I have no doubt it's busy and enjoyable on a normal day with other humans present. I'd go back. In the middle of a Saturday when the lot is full, and people are everywhere.

The night ended at the Camille Rose Inn, a gorgeous bed and breakfast in Gainesville's historic district that deserves its own post, you can read about it here.

Satchel's Pizza Outside

For dinner, I wanted a take out pizza to bring back to the room, so I asked Google for the best pizza in Gainesville and it sent me to Satchel's Pizza. I was not prepared for a kitschy, vibrant, eclectic and fun restaurant! People eating inside a converted van in the parking lot. A room packed floor to ceiling with curiosities and things for sale. A full bar. Quirky art and random objects covering every surface. I stood in the doorway for a solid few seconds just taking it in. The pizza was delicious, they have vegan options, and Satchels is deserving of a dine-in experience. 

It was a long day, but all of it was worth it. Even the part where I sprinted out of a sinkhole because a mouse made a suspicious noise.