Shark Valley After the Crowds Left: Biking the Everglades Before a Storm
- Kelley D
- 9 hours ago
- 3 min read
The crowds of Shark Valley were making their way out. Grey storm clouds had formed on the horizon and were approaching quickly. I passed them all as I biked in.
It had already been a long day. I'd woken up early to drive across the state to Ernest Coe Visitor Center, the entrance to Everglades National Park. I spent the morning stopping at every boardwalk and trail between Ernest Coe and Flamingo. Heading to Schnebly Winery for lunch, I watched in awe as skydivers descended over the road in front of me with their colorful parachutes. By the time I reached Shark Valley, I was exhausted, but an open parking spot along US-41 felt like too much of a good thing to pass up.
The main lot was full and the ditch along the Tamiami Trail was packed. I'd heard about Shark Valley from my parents, who attempted to visit months earlier but couldn't find parking. There's a reason for that. Shark Valley is a popular destination all year, but especially during spring break, which is when I chose to visit. It is a beautiful taste of the Everglades - you can take a tram, walk, or bike a paved 15-mile loop that is full of alligators stretching out in the sun, heads, tails, arms and legs sprawled onto the pavement, paying no mind to the thousands of tourists that pass by them.
As I rode through, I dodged both visitors heading toward the exit and alligators. By the time I reached the observation tower, only a handful of people remained.
Designed by South Florida architect Edward M. Ghezzi and opened in 1966, the tower looks like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, curved concrete ramps spiraling up out of the sawgrass. At 65 feet, it's the highest point reachable on foot in all of Everglades National Park, with views stretching up to 20 miles across the River of Grass. I parked my bike and climbed up.
By the time I reached the top, the sky was full of rain clouds and only a couple of people were left. It was eerie, but amazing. The view spanned for miles, and below were a cluster of alligators just hanging out like they belonged in a Bond Movie - waiting for a hapless tourist or Bond villain to fall. The lack of people, the impending storm, and the alligators made for a truly creepy and lucky photo that most people miss due to the crowds.
The Shark Valley loop is 15 miles. I wanted to see all of it, so I continued along the trail and found myself alone. A few alligators still relaxed on the side of the path, the storm clouds grew thicker, and I spent several minutes photographing the sawgrass lit up in that deep, electric green that only appears when a storm rolls in, the kind of color that stops you even when you know you should keep moving. Being completely alone on that path was equal parts unsettling and amazing, and I felt like I was experiencing something most people don't get to.
By the time I made it back to the car, the main lot was empty and mine was one of the few scattered along the ditch on 41. Raindrops started falling as I shoved my bike into my car.
Shark Valley is worth every bit of the hype. The trail is well maintained, the 15-mile loop is flat and works for beginners and experienced riders who want to go slow and take in the scenery while navigating the alligator obstacles sprawled across the path. For those who'd rather skip the biking, walking is an option, and trams are a great choice for anyone not up for that much exertion in the Florida heat.
For anyone who wants to experience Shark Valley with fewer visitors, go when the weather looks questionable. It made the adventure feel completely my own. If you prefer ideal conditions, the dry season months of November through April bring cooler temperatures and the most active wildlife sightings, with January and February being the sweet spot. However you choose to visit, Shark Valley delivers. I just got lucky enough to have it all to myself.