You’re driving up US-1 through Hobe Sound, past the upscale manicured lawns and the endless gated communities, and then suddenly, the world changes. The pine flatwoods close in. The horizon opens up. You’ve hit Jonathan Dickinson State Park, and honestly, it’s a bit of a shock to the system if you’re used to the neon-and-stucco vibe of South Florida. Most people blast right past it on their way to Jupiter or Stuart, thinking it’s just another patch of scrub. They’re wrong.
It’s huge. We're talking 10,500 acres of actual, wild Florida.
This isn't just a place to park an RV, though people definitely do that. It’s a massive topographical anomaly. While the rest of the state is famously as flat as a pancake, this park is home to Hobe Mountain. Okay, "mountain" is a generous term for a 86-foot sand dune, but in Florida, that’s practically the Himalayas. From the top of the observation tower, you can see the Atlantic Ocean and the Loxahatchee River snaking through the green canopy. It’s one of the few places left where you can see what the coastline looked like before the high-rises took over.
The Wildman of the Loxahatchee
If you want to understand why Jonathan Dickinson State Park feels different, you have to talk about Trapper Nelson. He’s the local legend, the "Wildman of the Loxahatchee." Back in the 1930s, this guy lived off the land, trapping animals and building a homestead that looked like something out of a movie. He was a celebrity in his own right, hosting the likes of Gary Cooper and various European royalty who wanted a taste of the "real" Florida.
He didn't just survive out there; he thrived.
But there’s a dark side to the story that most brochures gloss over. Nelson was a loner who grew increasingly paranoid in his later years. When he was found dead from a shotgun wound in 1968, the official ruling was suicide, but plenty of locals still whisper about foul information and old grudges. You can actually take a boat tour—the Loxahatchee Queen—up the river to his restored camp. Walking around his hand-built cabins, you get this weird, lingering sense of isolation. It’s quiet. Maybe a little too quiet.
The Loxahatchee River itself is a big deal. It’s Florida’s first federally designated Wild and Scenic River. Most of the water in this state is diverted, dammed, or polluted, but the upper reaches of the Loxahatchee are still pristine. Cypress knees poke out of the black water like jagged teeth.
Military Secrets and Ghost Radars
People usually associate the park with nature, but it has a massive military footprint that’s mostly been swallowed by the brush. During World War II, this was Camp Murphy. It was a top-secret radar training school. Over 6,000 soldiers were stationed here, basically living in a city that doesn't exist anymore.
Most of the buildings were torn down after the war, but if you know where to look, you can still find the concrete foundations hiding under the saw palmettos.
- The park was named after a Quaker merchant who shipwrecked nearby in 1696.
- The military history is why the park has such a weirdly organized road system in certain sections.
- You’ll occasionally find enthusiasts with metal detectors looking for relics, though that’s technically a no-no in state parks.
It’s strange to think about thousands of guys learning cutting-edge technology in a place where they were also fighting off rattlesnakes and mosquitoes the size of small birds. The heat must have been unbearable. Honestly, I don’t know how they did it without modern AC.
The Terrain That Breaks Your Legs
If you're into mountain biking, you probably already know about the Bunker Hill trails. If you don't, be warned: they are brutal. Florida mountain biking is usually an oxymoron, but the white sand here acts like sugar. It sucks the energy right out of your tires.
The "Scrub" is a unique ecosystem, and it’s actually one of the most endangered in the world. It’s ancient. These dunes are hundreds of thousands of years old. Because the soil is so nutrient-poor, the plants have evolved into these gnarled, tough versions of themselves. You’ve got the Florida scrub-jay, a blue bird that’s so bold it might actually land on your head if you stand still long enough. It’s the only bird species entirely endemic to Florida. If the scrub disappears, so do they.
Environmentalists like those at the Florida Wildlife Federation are constantly fighting to keep these corridors open. Without the prescribed burns that the park rangers carry out, the whole place would overgrow and lose its biodiversity. It needs fire to live. That’s a weird paradox of the Florida landscape—we spend all our time trying to prevent fires near our homes, but the park actually needs to burn to stay healthy.
Camping, Gators, and What to Actually Do
Let's get practical. If you're planning a trip, don't just show up at noon in July. You will melt. Basically, the best time is between November and March.
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The Pine Grove campground is the most popular, and it has all the modern hookups. But if you really want the "Jonathan Dickinson" experience, you should look into the primitive campsites. You have to hike or paddle in. It’s just you, the stars, and the sound of things moving in the bushes. Yes, there are alligators. Yes, there are bears. No, they usually don't want anything to do with you as long as you aren't an idiot with your food trash.
- Rent a kayak at the Elsa Kimbell Environmental Education and Research Center. Paddle upstream toward the Trapper Nelson site. The water gets narrower and the canopy closes in. It’s hauntingly beautiful.
- Hike the Florida Trail. A segment of it runs right through the park. It's sandy and exposed, so bring more water than you think you need.
- Visit Hobe Mountain at sunset. It's the highest point for miles. You get a 360-degree view that reminds you how much water actually surrounds this peninsula.
Why the Recent Controversy Matters
Recently, there was a massive uproar regarding a proposal to build golf courses inside the park. It was part of a broader state initiative that caught everyone off guard. The backlash was intense. Thousands of people showed up to protests, and for good reason. Jonathan Dickinson State Park isn't a "blank space" waiting to be developed. It’s a functional, vital ecosystem that protects the Loxahatchee watershed.
The proposal was eventually withdrawn, but it served as a wake-up call for how fragile these public lands are. It showed that people in Florida—who often disagree on basically everything—will actually unite to save a park.
The real value of this place isn't in its "amenities." It's in the fact that it’s a time capsule. When you’re deep in the cypress swamp or standing on an ancient sand dune, the noise of the modern world just... stops. You realize that Florida isn't just theme parks and traffic jams. It’s a place of incredible, rugged, and sometimes harsh natural beauty.
Actionable Steps for Your Visit
If you're actually going to make the trip, here is how to do it without ruining your day:
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Check the River Levels. If the Loxahatchee is too low, paddling becomes a chore because you'll be dragging your boat over fallen logs (turtles usually hog the best spots). Call the park office or check the USGS gauges before you rent a canoe.
Download Offline Maps. Cell service is surprisingly spotty once you get away from the main entrance. The trail systems are interconnected and can be confusing. Use an app like AllTrails but make sure the map is downloaded to your phone.
Pack for the "Scrub." The sand reflects heat. Even if it's 75 degrees out, the temperature on the dunes can feel ten degrees hotter. Wear a wide-brimmed hat and use high-SPF sunscreen. This isn't the beach; there's no sea breeze to cool you down when you're inland.
Respect the Scrub-Jays. If you see them, keep your distance. Don't feed them. They are highly social and curious, but human food messes with their ability to survive the winter. Observe them through binoculars and enjoy the fact that you're seeing one of the rarest birds in North America.
Visit the Education Center First. It sounds boring, but the Elsa Kimbell center is actually great. It explains the "why" behind the landscape. Understanding that you're walking on an ancient shoreline makes the hike up Hobe Mountain much more interesting than just walking up a big hill.
Book Camping Early. Florida State Parks use a central reservation system (ReserveAmerica). During the winter months, sites at Jonathan Dickinson can book up months in advance. If you're looking for a weekend spot in February, you should be looking at the calendar in August.
Whether you're there for the history of Trapper Nelson, the secret military ruins, or just to escape the suburban sprawl, Jonathan Dickinson is a reminder of what Florida was before the rest of us arrived. It’s raw, it’s hot, and it’s absolutely worth the effort.
To make the most of your time at Jonathan Dickinson State Park, start by checking the official Florida State Parks website for any seasonal trail closures or prescribed burn schedules that might affect your hiking plans. If you plan to visit the Trapper Nelson site, verify the boat tour schedule in advance as it varies based on water levels and staffing. For those looking to support the park's long-term preservation, consider looking into the "Friends of Jonathan Dickinson," a non-profit group that funds local conservation and educational programs. All visitors should adhere to "Leave No Trace" principles to ensure the fragile scrub ecosystem remains intact for future generations. For a deep dive into the local history, the Loxahatchee River Historical Society offers archival resources on the military history of Camp Murphy.