In 1908, President Theodore Roosevelt designated Ocala National Forest as the first federal forest east of the Mississippi—and he probably didn’t know half of what was hiding in there. Tucked in the center of Florida’s peninsula, Ocala is not a single forest, but a vast mosaic: of bubbling springs, longleaf pine islands, sinkholes, scrub jays, and stories older than the state itself.
Covering more than 600 square miles, Ocala National Forest is a wild, watery tangle of wilderness. It’s not polished. It’s not Disney. And that’s the point. Here, kids cannonball into turquoise springs, hikers vanish under cathedral-like hammocks, and entire families learn what it means to hear actual quiet.
Start your visit at Juniper Springs, a natural swimming hole that looks more like the Caribbean than Central Florida. Surrounded by cabbage palms and oak canopies, the water is a constant 72 degrees—cold enough to make you gasp, clean enough to drink (almost), and clear enough to see fish weaving between submerged tree roots.
Next door, you’ll find the historic Juniper Mill House, a 1930s-era relic built by the Civilian Conservation Corps, complete with a waterwheel, stone structures, and interpretive displays. It’s a perfect picnic stop. But if you’re ready for real adventure, rent a kayak and take on the Juniper Run—a 7-mile paddle trail winding through narrow, shaded creeks so wild that you’ll swear you’re being watched by river spirits. (More likely: otters.)
For families with younger kids or less time, try Alexander Springs instead. It’s more open, shallower, and ideal for splashing, snorkeling, or lazy lounging under Spanish moss. The limestone basin creates a natural swimming pool with sandy edges and gentle depth. The best part? You can spot turtles and freshwater fish just by sticking your face in the water with goggles.
But Ocala’s magic isn’t just in the water. It’s in the scrub forest, where gnarled sand pines twist like bonsai and rare Florida scrub jays flit from branch to branch. These birds exist nowhere else in the world—and they’re curious. If you walk slow and stay quiet, they may come close enough to land on a backpack strap.
Hit the Yearling Trail for a mix of literary legend and forest solitude. The trail takes its name from The Yearling, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings’ Pulitzer-winning novel set in these woods. Along the path, you’ll pass remnants of 19th-century homesteads—old fences, brick chimneys, and hand-dug wells swallowed by vines. It’s a trail of ghosts and gopher tortoises, perfect for families with storytelling in their blood.
If hiking’s your thing, the forest offers more than 600 miles of trails, including a 72-mile stretch of the Florida Trail, which runs from Big Cypress Swamp to the Panhandle. The Ocala section features longleaf pine savannas, palm tunnels, and deer tracks pressed into soft sand.
Campers take note: Ocala has some of Florida’s best backcountry sites. But for comfort and convenience, the Salt Springs Recreation Area is a family favorite. It offers tent and RV camping, restrooms, a spring-fed swimming area, and even a boat ramp for those looking to fish or explore Lake George, the second-largest lake in Florida.
Feeling adventurous? Book a night in the Hopkins Prairie Campground, where you’ll wake up to wild turkeys, sandhill cranes, and fog rising off the meadow like steam from a kettle. There’s no electricity. Just the croak of frogs and the distant hoot of barred owls.
If you prefer a real roof, head to Fort McCoy’s Rodman Campground Cabins, rustic wood-paneled shelters near the Cross Florida Greenway. They’re simple but solid, with AC, beds, and screened porches for bug-free stargazing.
Hungry? For the best post-hike or post-paddle meal, drive to The Mason Jar in Umatilla, a mom-and-pop diner famous for fried catfish, cornbread, and peanut butter pie. Or try Gator Joe’s Beach Bar & Grill, perched on the shores of Lake Weir, where the views are pure Florida and the gator tail bites come with lemon and a little danger.
In the town of Salt Springs, check out Square Meal Diner for hearty breakfasts, home fries, and the kind of coffee that keeps anglers talking long after sunrise. The walls are covered in photos of monster bass, local kids, and hand-scrawled thank-you notes.
One of Ocala’s strangest treasures is The Big Scrub—the largest contiguous sand pine scrub ecosystem in the world. It looks like desert and jungle at once: white sand underfoot, but thick with pine, palmetto, and prickly pear. Take the St. Francis Trail, a short loop through a patch of it, and you’ll feel like you’ve stepped onto another planet.
And then there’s Silver Glen Springs—a swimming spot, archaeological site, and manatee haven all in one. In cooler months, manatees glide into the spring basin seeking warmth, turning the crystal-clear water into a slow-motion ballet. But even in summer, the spring remains one of the best snorkeling spots in Florida. Just watch out for the occasional gator sunning on the bank—wild means wild out here.
Need indoor time? Take a side trip into nearby Ocala, the horse capital of the world. Visit the Florida Horse Park, stroll the charming downtown square, or explore Silver Springs State Park, where glass-bottom boat tours reveal ancient underwater forests and submerged statues placed during Hollywood’s golden age.
Want a clever local tip? Arrive at Juniper Springs right at opening time (8 AM). The light filtering through the palms is golden and quiet. You’ll share the spring with squirrels, songbirds, and maybe one or two early swimmers. By noon, the crowds arrive—but those first two hours are pure forest magic.
If you’re visiting in winter, don’t miss the Ocala Christmas Light Parade—a decades-old tradition where floats, horses, and high school bands wind through downtown under twinkling lights. The crowd is friendly. The cocoa is hot. And it feels like something out of a storybook.
Springtime brings blooming azaleas, fox kits, and ideal weather for long trail hikes or forest biking. Summer? Hot, sure—but that’s why you have five major springs within driving distance and a hammock waiting under live oaks.
Ocala National Forest isn’t polished. That’s what makes it powerful. You’ll find campfire rings instead of cocktail bars. Lichen-covered stones instead of Instagrammable walls. But you’ll also find time—stretching, humming, waiting in the pines. You’ll find your heartbeat slowing down to match the rhythm of frogs, creeks, and wind through the scrub.
It’s not a place you pass through. It’s a place that stays with you.
