On the western edge of Miami-Dade County, the pavement dissolves into sawgrass.
There, where the city’s sprawl runs out of patience, begins one of the strangest national parks in the country: Everglades National Park—a place so flat, so watery, and so brimming with life that it defies easy explanation. It is the largest subtropical wilderness in the U.S., the only place on Earth where alligators and crocodiles share the same swamp, and home to a slow-moving river that’s more grass than water.
To the untrained eye, it might look like nothing. But spend an hour in the Everglades, and you’ll start to notice the rustle of reeds, the low hum of insects, and the prehistoric blink of something watching you from the murk.
The Everglades doesn’t shout. It seeps.
A River That Flows at 100 Feet Per Day
Unlike the roaring rapids of the West, this river takes its time. Known as the “River of Grass”, the Everglades flows at about 100 feet per day—slower than most people walk. It begins at Lake Okeechobee and makes its way south in an unhurried sheet, wide as a city but rarely deeper than a foot.
This slowness is its secret. The park holds more than 1.5 million acres of wetland, teeming with alligators, manatees, panthers, and over 350 species of birds—from roseate spoonbills to anhingas that dry their wings like cormorant monks.
A good place to start? Shark Valley, oddly named given its alligator count. Hop on the 15-mile tram loop, where rangers will casually point out a gator sunning itself “on the left” like it’s no big deal. In the dry season (December through April), there may be dozens lounging right off the path, mouths open like they’re waiting for marshmallows.
The Mystery of the Miccosukee
Long before any airboats sliced through the sawgrass, the land was home to the Miccosukee Tribe, descendants of the Creek Nation. They carved out a way of life in the hammocks—slightly raised islands of trees—and built chickees, thatched-roof structures that stood above floodwaters.
Today, the Miccosukee Indian Village just outside the park offers a window into their traditions. You’ll find woodcarving, patchwork, and demonstrations that give kids and adults a better appreciation of what it means to live with the swamp instead of against it.
There’s even a small alligator wrestling arena, though the real lesson isn’t how to pin one—it’s how to respect one.
Airboats, Canoes, and the Sound of Silence
To truly experience the Everglades, you have to get out on the water. And while airboats make for great Instagram reels, they’re not the only option.
Families often choose Coopertown Airboats, a small, family-run outfit that’s been gliding visitors through the grass since 1945. They know the channels like locals know back roads. A typical ride offers gator sightings, birdwatching, and the occasional ghost orchid if you catch it in bloom.
But for something slower—and quieter—rent a canoe at Nine Mile Pond. It’s a loop trail, about 5 miles, through mangroves, sloughs, and open water. Keep your eyes peeled for snapping turtles, otters, and the surreal sight of an alligator slipping silently under your boat.
Where to Refuel After the Reeds
Believe it or not, some of the most satisfying meals near the Everglades come from gas stations and roadside shacks.
Start with Robert Is Here, a legendary fruit stand near the Homestead entrance. Open since 1959, it serves fresh guanabana, mangoes, dragon fruit, and absurdly thick milkshakes. There’s a petting zoo out back for the kids and a history of feeding swamp wanderers going back generations.
For a full meal, try The Gator Grill, a humble spot with picnic tables and a menu that includes catfish nuggets, gator tail (for the curious), and a Cuban sandwich that rivals anything in Little Havana.
And for something more classic, Yardie Spice in Homestead offers Jamaican jerk chicken, curried goat, and plantains served in a modest storefront with a global reputation. It’s a culinary reward after a day dodging mosquitos and marveling at swamp wonders.
Resting Near the Reeds
While there’s camping within the park—Long Pine Key and Flamingo Campground—many families opt for more traditional beds nearby.
Check out Everglades International Hostel, a quirky, eco-conscious spot in Florida City. It has dorms, private rooms, a communal kitchen, and jungle hammocks strung between fruit trees. It’s equal parts hostel, botanical garden, and artist commune.
Prefer polished to playful? Home2 Suites by Hilton in Florida City provides modern comfort and quick access to the main park entrance. It’s kid-friendly, has a pool, and makes an ideal base for multi-day exploring.
For full immersion, the Flamingo Lodge & Eco Tents inside the park offer canvas-walled glamping right on the water. At night, you’ll hear the low chuff of gators and the far-off wail of limpkins—better than any sound machine on the market.
A Thought, a Tip, and a Warning
If you’re headed into the Everglades, bring bug spray. Then bring more. And wear light long sleeves anyway.
Also, stop by the Ernest Coe Visitor Center before entering the park. The rangers will help tailor your trip to the season and even mark which trails are best for spotting gators, spoonbills, or ghost orchids. And if the kids complete a junior ranger activity booklet, they’ll get a real ranger badge to take home—no purchase necessary.
Finally, never feed the wildlife. Not even the cute ones. Especially not the cute ones.
A Living, Breathing Paradox
The Everglades is the opposite of instant gratification. It’s a place where you learn to watch, wait, and listen. Nothing shouts. Everything hums.
It’s a park born from contradictions—salt and fresh, predator and prey, motion and stillness. A place where life blooms in brackish water and trees grow on floating mats of soil.
For some, it’s just a big swamp. But for others—especially those willing to drift slowly and look closely—it’s the most alive place they’ve ever visited.
