Camping, Kayaking Silver Springs in Frigid Florida

Silver Springs State Park | Ocala

---

It might surprise you that Silver Springs Park was the top tourist spot in Florida before the mouse came to Orlando. Time and temperaments led to its decline. Now a State Park, it lured us with lucid spring waters, scenic hiking trails, and wild monkeys (no kidding).

If only we had planned better for the seasonal temperatures. Or, you know, aimed south rather than north.

This camp, I remembered the fan but left our portable heater in the garage.

Now, ain’t that just like me—I have us sweat ourselves sleepless in Myakka in May and now shiver ourselves solid in Ocala in December.

Hopefully, we could salvage sunny days from the frigid nights.

So much for monthly camping

2018 was waning and we’d made only one overnight trip into the great outdoors of Florida. We must go camping.

Christa took on the task of finding a spot for this two-night trip.

Our first ever kayak experience occurred at Rainbow Springs with my Aunt Debbie in 2003. We were anxious to relive the fun of snorkeling and paddling in those clear gator free waters.

Unfortunately, Florida campsites were filling with snowbirds.

The only park with vacancies to match our schedule was Silver Springs. Flipped in 2013 from private fun park into a state park, the former tourist attraction featured crystal waters and plenty of hiking trails.

And monkeys.

It seems the enterprising gent that started the Silver Springs glass bottom boat tours didn’t realize monkeys could swim. In ninety years, they’ve become an invasive menace and can be a bit bitey. But, c’mon—monkeys.

So, we booked two nights at Silver Springs for the end of November.

The day arrived and my procrastination resulted in a late start. After a last-minute Lowes run to MacGyver our rack to fit both kayaks, we were loaded and ready to leave home by check-in time.

There’s nothing like pitching camp in the dark. I don’t recommend it. Lucky our tent is on wheels—Fatty Lumpkin sleeps two.

iPhone maps said the trip should take an hour and forty-five minutes. you know what that means.

The slow lane to Latesville

We cruised at 55 mph down the right lane of I-75. I kept one eye holding the needle at 3500 RPM and the other on the generator light, holding the belt on the pulleys with telekinesis.

Three hours later, the sun slipped below the horizon as we cleared Ocala and rumbled into the Silver Springs entrance. To be greeted by a closed gate and a sign that read, “This park closes at 5:00 p.m.”

I asked Christa if our reservation and payment in full came with a code for the gate. Nope. Providence immediately delivered an exiting vehicle, so I swerved in through the out gate.

Two rangers winding up their day greeted us at the booth and checked us in, oriented me to the Silver Springs State Park map, and suggested the Swamp Trail for a hike.

My mind was miles away when he mentioned firewood for sale. Then he handed me a paper warning of freezing water lines.

What?

Settling in after sunset

As we set camp, the gravity of the evening cold sunk in. Why did I leave those gloves at home on the toolbox? Because we’re in Florida, I excused myself.

Such a noob. And to think I only packed pants for hiking.

With numbing fingers, I hammered two pegs into pretzels in the clay site pad. The awning tentatively rigged, I plugged in the bus to keep the fridge cold and shed some light on supper.

Of course, I left the hose for our gas stove in the garage. Right beside the heater, probably.

Luckily, my brain sparked to life thirty minutes into the trip. We stopped at a Walmart on the way and found a single burner propane stove for less than the price of a hose and valve.

Hot eats, cold seats

A fry-up of hot dogs and baked beans warmed us as we raced the rapidly cooling meal. A campfire would be nice right about now. Why didn’t I ask to buy wood when I checked in?

I considered the cost of violating Silver Springs’ prohibition on collecting downed wood from the site but decided against it.

We huddled around the lantern and steeled ourselves against the thirty-something night with blankets, hot chocolate, and ginger snaps while we read our way toward bedtime.

My original plan involved arriving before check-in to get in a hike; now we were just killing time before hibernation.

Maybe one more ginger snap to bulk up the blubber.

I popped up the bus bed and we layered it in a foam pad, sheets, sleeping bags, and blankets. Buried under the insulation, we thought warm thoughts and tossed and turned on the insubstantial foam.

Our spines are growing too old for this.  

Kaffee in the Kombi then kayaks

The morning chill held me under the covers. While I summoned the motivation to emerge, Christa braved the shock first and opened the doors to the crisp morning air.

I shed my cocoon and transformed the bed back to a bench, brushed my teeth and fired up the coffee maker.

After breakfast, we unplugged and drove to the Silver Springs canoe and kayak launch within the old fun park portion of the grounds.

We hoped to utilize the livery service to paddle the five-mile river trail and get brought back by van. Unfortunately, we were now told, that service only runs on weekends during this season. Nuts.

Wish the Silver Springs website said as much.

One attendant suggested using Uber. Not a bad idea at all, actually. But, after a confab, we chose to do the shorter Fort King Waterway loop. Probably best to stick close in case the day remained too chilled for watersports.

A leisurely paddle through Silver Springs

At the waterway’s edge, I suggested Christa climb into her kayak on the dirt ramp and I’d push her in to keep her feet dry in the forty-degree air. I followed suit with my best impression of a dog with worms.

Afloat and drifting from the shore, I felt enveloped in heat. I dipped my hand in the water. It was a comforting 70-degree bath. Springs are pretty cool.

The mood lifted on the warm air.

We set to paddling and I was instantly attuned to the wildflowers. Blue asters, yellow sunflowers, and red Cardinal flowers colored the green banks. Yellow spatterdock blooms bobbed on their green rafts atop the blue water. I could scarcely believe the icy night before.

I was amazed by the underwater world of life in the transparent water.

My cheap polarized glasses pierced the rippled surface to reveal azure and onyx fish gliding through the jade fingers of tape grass and submerged trees in their algae coats. A wild garden above and below.

If I had done my homework, I’d know to paddle under the nearing footbridge and complete the loop clockwise to avoid paddling against the current on the Silver River. Instead we followed the sign’s arrow and turned right.

Decrepit shells of the former Fort King Ride that once replaced the Silver Springs Jungle Cruise attraction appeared on our right. Forlorn replica frontier shops and depots stood weatherbeaten. Christa described it as depressing, but I felt like an explorer encountering a past civilization.

Christa’s biggest desire was to see the Silver Springs monkeys. If they were there, they stayed hidden.

A British brogued couple paddling in from the Silver River asked if the manatee were still about. I replied that it might be too cold for manatees but he corrected that they saw some on their way out that morning.

Manatees are like aquatic monkeys, I tried to reason. Really lethargic underwater monkeys. Sea-cow-monkeys. We must keep our eyes peeled.

Lodes of life in the Silver River

Onto the Silver River, a left turn upstream continued the loop. A steady breeze made our progress slow but not a struggle. Christa maintained her lead as I dawdled.

Anhingas were everywhere. Their needle-beaked snakeheads punctured up through the water’s skin to refill their lungs before returning below to continue the hunt.

One rose like a cobra and bounced along trying to coax a speared fish from around his beak and into his gullet.

Ahead of me, bubbles broke the surface. I suspected a spring vent and as I floated over I spied large smooth stones surrounded the source of the air on the river floor. They looked man-made, elongated and smooth with a blue-gray tint. One tapered into a paddle tail—Manatees.

I urged Christa to return and we circled over the pod of resting sea cows. I forgot that my polarized glasses gave me an advantage over Christa who couldn’t see what I saw. After she paddled away I was greeted by a snort as the three manatees rose to see what all the hubbub was.

Dawdling has its privileges.

Christa next spotted a young alligator on the bank of a shallow alcove. I paddled in as close as I safely dared to get it on camera. The little guy seemed harmless from ten yards but I knew better.

At the dead end of the Silver Springs headsprings where the glass bottom boats launch, a left led us back under the footbridge.

Our loop coming to a close, I kept my eyes peeled for manatees. Sure enough, under the surface at the wye was a grey-blue potato with a ping-pong paddle tail.

We and a fellow kayaker who came in behind us paddled in place to catch the creature coming up for air. That could take twenty minutes. We called it quits after a few and returned to the launch ramp.

A walk in the old park

Kayaks back on the bus, we went to tour the Silver Springs Park. The arched sign triggered a craving for butterscotch Krimpets, strangely. 

Our camp tag got us in (and also covered the kayaking fee) without charge. We skipped the glass-bottom boats as we had a pretty rich experience in the kayaks. I probably missed out capturing nice pictures, though.

Christa discovered the ice cream shop and we refueled with some tasty Blue Bell. Butter pecan for me and salted caramel for madame.

We enjoyed our frozen treats in the mid-sixties sunshine and walked the grounds. In its golden-age, Silver Springs served as filming locations for Sea Hunt, the Creature From the Black Lagoon, several Tarzan movies, and even two Bond flicks.

We found a hiking trail and continued our search for primates to no avail. There were more signs about monkeys than monkeys.

The Silver Springs park is mostly paths and gardens with a restaurant and souvenir shop. Still, the visuals were stunning for a leisurely stroll and we enjoyed it at the price of zero.

Our daytime activities triggered the stomach grumbling. Dinner was due.

Quest for firewood

Back at the Silver Springs State Park entrance station, I walked in to give our license plate number (we forgot at check-in). “Oh, good,” the ranger replied, “I thought you were coming for firewood.” I was.

They were sold out. She suggested I try Walmart or Publix.

We passed a Lowes and I made a decision to stop there if we came up short at the grocery store. A three dollar two-by-four-by-eight would be more than enough for a hot fire to warm our hands over.

The True-Value next door to the Publix had a wagon out front bearing bundles of firewood. A Jackson got us two bundles and a Lincoln in change. The Washingtons made me wish I’d used my little hatchet.

That money could have bought enough two-bys for a week of fires. Or a dog house.

Next time, Lowes.

Of campfire, cookies, cocoa, and comics

Back at the campsite I reset the awning and began supper. The fry of onions, kielbasa, spinach, potatoes, and cheese stuck to the ribs as insulation against the cold that set in as the sun dipped below the trees.

With my trusty hatchet, I split a wedge of wood into kindling and got it lit over some crumpled newspaper. A slow burn with occasional nudges into the embers would make the wood last.

The smell of a campfire does wonders for morale and the heat ain’t too shabby either. After we woofed down our supper we adjourned to the embers and a fresh stick of wood got licked by blue and orange tongues.

I returned to where I left Doctor Strange during our August beach trip and Christa nosed her ebook. A mug of water simmered on the coals, a packet of Swiss Miss in my hoodie pouch.

After a couple hours of that with lots of ginger snaps and handfuls of popcorn, Christa decided to turn in. We still had half the wood left. I popped up the bed and we relayered the blankets.

I sat out for another hour while the remaining wood turned to embers, then raked it out and retired to the bus. Another night in the belly of the Lumpkin in upper thirties wasn’t an attractive lure, but sleep was needed.

A morning hike

That night turned out to be much warmer than the previous. We rose to greet the sun, brushed teeth, and dressed. After our hearty breakfasts, we hit the road on foot for the Swamp Trail.

The trailhead lay beside the in-park museum and recreated cracker village which we approached with full bladders.

As we entered the grounds an official scolded that we could not enter the museum when schoolkids were present and directed us to a sign that said as much. I remarked that we saw the sign, but also saw no schoolchildren, to which he replied that the museum was closed during the week and only open to the public on weekends.

Huh. Why didn’t the sign just say that, instead?

It was no big deal, but off-putting all the same. Wish the Silver Springs website said as much. Oh, this one did.

Sync your web info, Florida State Parks.

He then pointed us to the restrooms and recommended the Swamp Trail.

We entered the Swamp Trail to begin an enjoyable hike with woodpeckers, squirrels, crunchy brown leaves and needles and an overlook of the Silver Springs.  

And no monkeys. Drat. Maybe they hibernate?

For the first time this year, Christa remarked and I agreed, Florida finally felt like fall. The smell of the downed brown leaves, the chill in the air, us dressed in layers. Just in time for Christmas.

We walked off our breakfasts and headed back to strike camp.

The old road home

With the kit and caboodle stowed and the old girl warmed up we pulled out of Silver Springs State Parkand onto the highway for route 301 and the long way home.

As we passed through the quaint village of Oxford something looked familiar about a CSX building along the railroad tracks. Wait a minute—Yes.  My grandpa and I gobbled up breakfast here on our way to Delaware in May.

The Ole Coffee House was a delightful li’l country spot with home-cooked food and a no-frills style.  The lack of attention to the restrooms is made up for in the kitchen.

The reward is in low expectations.

Christa agreed to give it a shot for a late lunch, so we pulled in and entered to see the buffet was set. All you could eat for ten bucks. We looked over the vittles and decided to dig in.

After some delish fried chicken with collards, mashed potatoes, gravy, and a cornbread muffin, black-eyed peas, creamed corn, a heaping helping of beef and potato casserole with cheese, and some banana pudding, I was soon to throw in the towel.

Christa decided after loading her plate that this wasn’t what she wanted after all and lost her appetite. I’ve been there. Besides, the cornbread was bland.

I helped myself to the rest of her muffin to sop the chicken and slippery dumpling gravy off my second-round plate.

Now bearing a few additional pounds, I hefted myself behind the wheel and we rumbled south past cracker houses, old motor lodges, BBQ shacks, and drive-in theaters until the antique highway modernized near Brandon.

Home sweet home. 

You can bet we’ll sleep like bears in our warm bed tonight. Of course, temps would rise back into the seventies in a day or two. Boy, my timing is impeccable.

Thoughts from the recliner

It’s hard for us Yankees to conceive that Florida is still not south enough to avoid freezing temps. Experience has taught us to now plan our fall and winter outdoor trips for more equatorial destinations. This would be a great time to hit the Everglades, for example. Or the keys.

I don’t mind the cold if expecting it and prepared. When caught off guard it can be downright miserable. Deadly, even. I did once get frostbite in Alabama, after all.

We left Pennsylvania to escape the freezing temps. North in the summer, south in the winter also applies in a state 400 miles long.

And what happened to my plans to keep the bus equipped for last minute trips? I never should have removed the propane line. And both the heater and the fan now reside in Fatty’s belly.

I must me-proof my life.

And in the end…

Regardless, we had a grand time in the great outdoors of Silver Springs. Wish we saw the monkeys (herpes, or not) but seeing the manatees was a pathogen-free treat.

There’s not much fluff and a lack of polish but Silver Springs State Park provides a low-key opportunity for pleasant paddling, scenic hiking, cozy camping, and relaxation in the great outdoors. If your needs are simple, you’ll find plenty to enjoy.

Just plan for the weather.

The beautiful scenery and missed opportunities of Silver Springs will bring us back for more.

It’s the monkeys. We’re going back for monkeys. 

---

• Where are your favorite cold season camping spots?
• If you enjoyed our misadventures, please subscribe for email updates and alerts for new posts.

Please comment with any questions, critiques, or greetings. I’d love to hear from you.

Thanks for Reading!