Horseshoe Beach: off the beaten path yet accessible

It all started with a quest to find a place without cell phone service or wireless Internet access in this state of 18 million people.

Sometimes outdoors lovers need to be in the outdoors with their families and without interruption.

I'm here to tell you that my husband, Stan, and my 10-year-old daughter, Junco, and I discovered such a place in Horseshoe Beach, a Gulf Coast community that's small enough you find yourself telling people where it is in relation to everything else.

Seventy-some miles west of Gainesville. Two hours north of Tampa. A quick trip from Cedar Key. On the way to Tallahassee if you take the road less traveled. Not quite the Big Bend, and not the Panhandle either.

With the holidays approaching and the influx of tourists and snowbirds about to arrive on our waterways, it seems a good time to highlight a place removed from the rat race, yet do-able in a long weekend. Southwest Florida to North Central Florida is only a trip up Highway 98 with a left-hand turn at the blink-and-you-miss-it town of Cross Creek in Dixie County.

These are in no particular order, which is reflective of how our three-day weekend delightfully went:

BILL KILBORN / COURTESY PHOTO An aerial view of Horseshoe Beach in North Central Florida, shows the remote town has no beach — but fishing and watersports are plentiful. . No beaches — a good filter to weed out the strictly sun worshippers. Instead, you get people who like to fish and eat fish. I read a whole book on Horseshoe Beach and never discovered why a place surrounded by grass flats, oyster beds and mud at low tide has the word "beach" in its name. But I didn't try too hard to find out. We just enjoyed it for what it was — a place with water on three sides.

. Two bald eagle sightings, one in which the eagle was taking a bath. Sure, bald eagles are common in Lee County, but there's something invigorating about stumbling on one along a gravel road and seeing it fly overhead, its wings wet with fresh water from a cypress-ringed slough.

. Five wild turkeys in the road — alive and chatting with each other as if they belonged there and you didn't.

. Only 40 year-round residents in the town of Horseshoe Beach. It's no exaggeration to say every one of those locals was friendly to out-of-towners. On a morning walk, we found ourselves chatting with a couple who invited us back that afternoon to watch the University of Georgia football game. Their TV was — where else — in the boathouse right on the water.

. The discovery of a great potential vacation home, with a wrap around porch, water on two sides and a Jacuzzi.

. Oysters, clams, shrimp, smoked mullet, Gulf flounder. In Horseshoe as well as nearby Cross City, Steinhatchee, Jenna, Cedar Key and more places, there are signs at the end of gravel driveways. They have words on them such as "fresh shrimp" or "seafood." We checked it out many and ate well.

. Bird sounds galore celebrating autumn on the porch of the place we stayed.

. Hours of reading uninterrupted when the wind blew hard enough that paddling a canoe wouldn't have been worth the effort. We could look at the water instead.

. A glimpse of winter weather — it was cool enough for a pullover several mornings and we saw some red maple trees had changed colors.

. Recognition from locals regarding our "Pine Island" front plate on our Honda Accord. Commercial fishermen rule in this part of the state and they know about our part.

. No chain stores or restaurants. Refreshing in this era of "sameness" across the United States.

. An impromptu tour of a University of Florida aquaculture lab where they raise clams to sell to fisherman who lease land and grow the clams for restaurants. The friendly staffer answered every one of my daughter's questions. The knowledge made her — you guessed it — want to go eat steamed clams by the dozen. A restaurant overlooking the bay in Cedar Key didn't let her down. Thirty clams for $7.95 is a great deal.

. The Sea Hag Marina in Steinhatchee. This town, just north of Horseshoe, gets more recognition, especially during the short summer scallop season. The day we visited, it was nearly a ghost town, save for a cat named Demon Puff Ball that we met at Sea Hag's ships store. It was a white creature with fangs who perched atop a display of scalloping gloves.

. Fanning Springs State Park and Manatee Springs State Park — both gushing with blue water surrounded by cypress swamps. So perfect you feel as if you're in a National Geographic photo.

. Fishing and shrimping boats everywhere. Let's hear it for the commercial fishermen who persevere.

. Oak trees hundreds of years old. Cypress trees so thick you did a double take. Cabbage palms that make you realize why the Tallahassee contingent declared them the state tree. Everywhere: woods. Or tidal flats. Or marshes. The great outdoors at its Florida finest.

. Dogs sleeping in the road. No need to worry about getting run over in this part of the world.

. All three of us together and away from it all for four days in the remoteness of our great Sunshine State. We'll be going back to Horseshoe Beach sooner rather than later.