Happy Camper

In Auburndale, I check into the Camp Margaritaville RV Resort about an hour southwest of Orlando. Instantly I’m transported to the vibe of carefree beachfront concerts and frozen drinks.

My stay in one of 75 brightly hued, clapboard-sided cabins includes a kitchen and a back deck overlooking Lake Myrtle. A sign above the porch reads: “We salt margaritas—not sidewalks.” My speed exactly. I cruise in a golf cart to the pool, passing picklers on the pickleball court.

By dusk, road warriors roll in with their Airstreams and big rigs settling under a starry sky. Many RVers are seasoned. One regular tells me the trailering lifestyle is in the water here. “Back in 1919, a group of ‘tin can tourists’ in nearby Tampa started this tradition,” he says. With that thought, I sink into a tiki-bar chair, margarita in hand, as Jimmy Buffett ballads hum in the tropical breeze.

Later, Alligator

The next day, sitting high beside the captain on an airboat, I get a clear bird’s-eye view of Kissimmee River. The view: spectacular, but wow, is it loud. Thankfully, the captain signals for earplugs as the propeller roars behind us. Sunlight glitters on the water as we snake through narrow straits, past groves blanketed in water lettuce. Within minutes, our guide spots a gator near the marshy edge, her foot-long hatchlings close behind. No surprise—this river is home to countless alligators, including some of the largest anywhere. If it wasn’t for them, I might think I was in northern Ontario.

With so many lakes to explore, we set out again the next evening for a sunset pontoon ride on Lake Eloise, lined with cypress trees draped in moss. Arriving by boat, we cap off the night with dinner at Harborside in Winter Haven. On the menu? Gator bites.

By Design

Architectural gold mines aren’t typically found on college campuses, but it’s on the grounds of Florida Southern College in Lakeland where I find Frank Lloyd Wright’s largest single-site collection of work in the world. The 13 structures, including his largest water feature and the iconic Annie Pfeiffer chapel, sit on beautiful Lake Hollingsworth.

Exploring the sprawling 32-hectare labyrinth of buildings and covered walkways, his designs seem as futuristic today as they must have been when built in the 1930s and ’40s. Wright’s aim was to create a “truly American campus” and as I bypass students heading to the well-preserved lecture halls, it’s clear his vision came to life.

Bells and Whistles

Under a blazing sun, birds whirling overhead, I enter Bok Tower Gardens in Lake Wales and soon spot an Art Deco tower. It’s the Singing Tower, its bronze-cast façade soaring 63 metres, appearing to rise straight from the earth. The lyrical notes from these carillon bells grow louder, as if the music is the soundtrack

of this serene space. Built atop Iron Mountain, it is one of the highest points in peninsular Florida. A National Historic Landmark, Bok Tower Gardens is often called America’s Taj Mahal, spanning 250 acres of curated gardens. Strolling through meandering trails that reveal reflection pools and expansive vistas, it feels like a theme park for the meditative—and better than any app I’ve downloaded.

Back at the Ranch

Cowboys in Central Florida? Yessir. At Westgate River Ranch in eastern Polk County, I’m drawn into the Wild West. Here, cowboy boots replace open-toe sandals. It’s a nod to Florida’s first cowboys, the “Florida Crackers,” who hailed from these parts before they headed west. To embrace the rancher spirit, I take a trapshooting lesson, learning to load, aim and fire. I pull my baseball cap down against the sun and notice clay pigeons are as tough to hit as real birds. I chalk it up to improper footwear. Surveying the 688-hectare property, it’s clear why it remains the largest dude ranch east of the Mississippi.

As I scan the endless horizon, I’m reminded of those titans—Wright, Pope and Bok—and how they would surely be thrilled knowing their legacies endure in Central Florida’s sweet spot.