Wekiwa Springs State Park

The water is clear and cool. It rises from the ground at a steady seventy-two degrees, the same in the heat of summer and the mild of winter. You can see straight down to the pale sandy bottom. Step in, and the cold takes your breath away for a moment before your body adjusts. You have reached the very source of a Florida river.

Wekiwa Springs State Park lies near the town of Apopka, a short drive northwest of Orlando. The park protects the spot where Wekiwa Springs pushes water up from deep underground. That water gathers first into a wide pool, then spills away to become the Wekiva River. The two names sound almost alike but differ by a single letter, both drawn from old Native American words tied to water and flowing.

A spring like this works quietly and without rest. Rain soaks slowly into the ground across a wide region. It sinks down through sand and porous rock into a vast hidden store of water below. Pressure then pushes some of that water back up to the surface here, millions of gallons every single day. The flow does not stop, by night or by season.

The main spring pool is the heart of the park. People swim in the clear water, which stays cool even on the hottest, heaviest days of summer. A gentle slope leads in from a sandy edge, easy underfoot. Children splash in the warm shallows while stronger swimmers cross to the deeper center, out where the cool water rises steadily from below.

From the spring, the Wekiva River winds away through thick forest and open wetland. You can rent a canoe or a kayak and paddle slowly upstream into the quiet. The water runs shallow and clear in some places, tea-colored and deep in others, stained by the roots of trees. Around each bend the green forest closes in a little more, hushed and still.

The park holds many kinds of living things. White-tailed deer move quietly through the pine woods at the edges. Turtles line up to bask on fallen logs. Wading birds step carefully through the shallows, hunting. Black bears live in the larger forest around the park, though they keep well away from the busy areas. Alligators may rest unseen in the slower, darker stretches of the river.

Trails lead away from the water and up into the dry uplands. Here the land changes its character completely. Tall pines stand over low palmetto and clumps of wiregrass. The ground turns soft and sandy underfoot. This kind of forest depends on fire over the long term, and so park staff sometimes set careful, controlled burns to clear the undergrowth and keep it healthy.

Florida sits on a bed of limestone, a soft pale rock that water slowly dissolves over ages. Across a very long stretch of time, this has carved caves, opened sinkholes, and fed springs all across the state. Wekiwa is just one of many such springs. Together they offer a glimpse of the enormous hidden body of water moving constantly beneath the surface of the land.

The cool water draws crowds on hot weekends, and the park can fill to capacity early in the day. On the busiest days the rangers may close the entrance gate once the parking lots are full. Arriving early in the morning gives you the best chance to get in, and also the quietest, stillest time out on the water.

People have come to these springs for a very long time. Native peoples gathered here over the centuries, drawn by the reliable fresh water and the animals it brought near. Much later, the springs became a local place for swimming, picnics, and rest from the heat. In time the state set the surrounding land aside as a park, to protect both the water and the forest that shelters it.

Spend a quiet moment simply watching the spring itself. The surface trembles and dimples slightly right where the water pushes up. Fine sand shifts and rolls in slow motion at the bottom of the pool. What you are seeing is the end of a long journey, water that once fell as rain, sank deep into the earth, and now returns at last to the light.

When you finally leave, your skin still cool from the spring, the thick Florida heat outside feels different than before. You have touched water older than the trees around you, water that will keep flowing on into the river long after you have gone. Some places simply keep working, quietly and faithfully, whether or not anyone is there to watch.