During a two-night stopover in Clearwater Beach on Florida's Gulf Coast, I spent the bulk of my second day in nearby Dunedin, a lively city imparting old Florida charm with modern panache. After a late breakfast and a bit of window shopping in Dunedin’s quaint downtown, I trekked to Caladesi Island State Park, a secluded Gulf Coast barrier island. From Alt. US 19, I drove west along the Dunedin Causeway—popular with windsurfers and weekend anglers—to Honeymoon Island State Park, the departure point for ferries to Caladesi.
 
After paying $3 to enter Honeymoon Island (I paid the single occupant fee, but the standard admission is $5 for up to eight people per car), I parked and approached the ferry booth to purchase my ten-dollar ferry pass. The cashier handed me the ticket, then casually mentioned my return time was at 6 p.m. (Visitors are allowed up to a 4-hour stay on the island.) “But I can leave before that, right?” “Yeah,” the woman said with some hesitation. “If there’s room.”

I’d visited the park previously—back in 2004—and hadn’t experienced any issues with my return trip on that occasion, so I felt fairly comfortable that I’d be able to catch an earlier ferry back. I boarded the vessel with about eight others, embarking on a choppy 15-minute ride on the St. Joseph Sound. As we entered the mangrove-lined canal leading to Caladesi’s marina, those seated on the port side cooed at a pair of nesting snowy egrets; the remaining passengers waved at smiling boaters passing us on the starboard side.

Once ashore, I picked up a few brochures and set off to explore the state park’s 3-mile nature trail. The sandy path took me past sabal palms, wax myrtles and saw palmettos, curving here and there to reveal—drumroll, please—more sabal palms, wax myrtles and saw palmettos. Large sections along the desolate path were charred, likely due to controlled burning. The smell of ash hung in the air as I walked, and I kept glancing at the trail map to see if perhaps I was on some closed route. Nope. My bare feet were getting chafed and cut from walking on the hot sand, and I felt a little uneasy since I hadn’t bumped into another living creature for what seemed like an eternity (it actually had only been about 30 minutes). The park brochure suggested I look for signs of raccoons, armadillos, marsh rabbits, snakes and gopher tortoises, but I didn’t observe any tracks—human or otherwise. When a plane flew overhead, I imagined I was starring in an episode of “Lost.” But, then again, being stranded on a spooky TV island might actually be interesting; this, on the other hand, was just plain dull.

Though the map told me such vegetation as South Florida slash pine, white stopper, cogon grass and ancient live oaks were still to come, I decided to skip the rest of the trail and instead took the shortcut to the beach. At this point, the scenery improved greatly. Wooden bridges spanned the Cat’s Eye Pond—which is frequented by various wading birds, including herons and white ibis—and verdant mangrove forests stretched along the edges of the shallow body of water.

The muted sound of lapping waves became audible as I continued on. Then, the white, powdery shoreline came into view, and I wondered why I had wasted so much time getting there. Daydreaming strollers admired sparkling, aquamarine Gulf waters and rolling dunes covered by sea oats and panic grass. With foamy, temperate surf surging about their ankles, crouching beachcombers scrutinized ribbed cockles and pristine sand dollars before adding the delicate specimens to their burgeoning collections. Nearby, opinionated moms, dads and grandparents offered advice to bucket-toting children intently molding ephemeral structures beside colorful towels and fold-out chairs.

Unlike many other beaches, the scene at Caladesi is decidedly tranquil. Of course, on this particular day, the wait for the return ferry was a completely different story. People crowded at the dockside shelter awaiting one of two boats operating that day. When a ferry arrived, many visitors discovered for the first time that they had designated return times written on their tickets. Those with the earliest times boarded first, and with so many people, the departures eventually got backed up. The system wasn’t very organized, and people became frustrated quickly.
 
 “I’ll never do this again,” commented one aggravated visitor. “It’s just another beach.”

However, Dr. Beach (a.k.a. Stephen P. Leatherman) would beg to differ. Each year, the director of the Laboratory for Coastal Research at Florida International University in Miami ranks the nation’s top 10 beaches. Caladesi’s shell-littered 3-mile tract came in at the top of his list in 2008, and, for most visitors, it’s fairly easy to understand why. You won’t find intense volleyball games being played on Caladesi’s sandy shore or raucous tiki bars with ever-flowing margaritas, but you will notice nature lovers—many perched on wood benches fronting the dunes—sketching and photographing the gorgeous surroundings.

The park also offers a 3-mile kayak trail and opportunities for fishing, so there’s more to do here than the usual sand-and-surf fun.  In addition, there’s plenty of room to spread out, so if you like, you can isolate yourself and pretend you’re Robinson Crusoe, a Wilson-free Tom Hanks from “Cast Away,” or a plane-crash survivor evading jungle monsters on “Lost.” Of course, the key word is “pretend,” considering amenities such as picnic shelters, showers and a concession stand are well within reach.

However, the slow exodus from this out-of-the-way hideaway may leave some feeling marooned, at least for a short while. If you’re a boater, you can skip the ferry lines by sailing directly to Caladesi Island (the state park features a 108-slip marina that permits overnight docking). Otherwise, depending on the time of year, getting off the island certainly can be tiresome. Plan ahead and be prepared for ferry delays in spring and summer as well as during holiday weeks. Phone (727) 469-5942 for Honeymoon Island State Park or (727) 469-5918 for Caladesi Island State Park. Or, phone (727) 734-5263 for more information about the ferry.