The ferry cuts its engine and you wade the last few yards to Anclote Key, shoes in hand, the Gulf lapping warm around your ankles. This 180-acre sliver of sand and scrub pine sits four miles west of Tarpon Springs, accessible only by private boat or scheduled ferry, which means the crowds thin to near-invisibility. The beach unfurls in both directions—two miles of unbroken shoreline where sanderlings scatter at your approach and the only structure is the weathered brick lighthouse that has guided sailors since the 19th century.
“One of the last undeveloped barrier islands on Florida's central Gulf, reachable only by water and crowned by a functioning 1887 lighthouse.”
Mollusc shells on marine beach (Bowman's Beach, Sanibel Island, Florida, USA) 1
The island rewards slow exploration. You can circumnavigate the key by kayak, threading through mangrove channels where mullet jump and herons stalk the shallows. The western shore faces open Gulf, ideal for shell collecting after storms; the eastern flats shelter seagrass beds thick with juvenile fish. Pack everything in—there are pit toilets and nothing else—and stake your claim beneath the pines for shade.
Sunset here feels ceremonial. The sky ignites in shades of tangerine and copper, the water goes molten, and the lighthouse silhouette sharpens against the dying light. As the last ferry departs, you understand the island's real gift: the rare sensation, so close to a busy coast, of having found something genuinely apart.
