When I first moved to Florida in May, 2022, I lived in an apartment while I searched for my new home. I explored the state like a woman who had been handed a map, a full tank of gas, and absolutely no reason to stay home.

Every week brought another town, another “maybe I live here now” moment. In each place, I explored what life might look like there—but most importantly, I evaluated riding options, boarding stables for Rosie, and nearby hiking trails.

I began on the Gulf Coast in Naples—the polished, palm-lined, rosé-at-lunch version of Florida.

Naples offered everything I needed for a soft landing: beaches, shopping, and the kind of Gulf breezes that make you forget you once survived life in the Sonoran Desert.

When I relocated from Phoenix, I traded blazing, bone-dry heat for something softer—still hot but wrapped in humidity.

I grew up on the East Coast, so the air here felt more like home than anything the desert ever offered.

Life Beneath the Flight Path

I stayed at the Hyatt House on 5th Avenue, perfectly positioned along the Gordon River Marina and walking distance to Tin City. It was the ideal base.

Well… ideal except for one tiny detail.

The room I booked overlooked the river from the back of the hotel—which, as I soon learned, sits directly beneath the flight path for Naples Airport.

One afternoon, I was sitting on my balcony, relaxing like a woman who had finally found her Florida calm. The sky was blue, the air was warm, the river was quiet…

And then— a loud whoosh overhead.

A jet came over so low I felt like I could read the pilot’s name tag.

The first time it happened, I didn’t just flinch—I instinctively ducked.  That first one spooked me harder than a horse encountering a plastic grocery bag.

Still, Naples had me hooked.

A Coastal Cowgirl Needs a Horse

No Florida chapter of mine would be complete without a horseback ride, so I found a local stable and joined a group trail ride through the wooded, sandy paths of Golden Gate Estates.

The horses were steady, the guide was friendly, and the trails felt like stepping into a quieter, wilder version of Naples.

It was the perfect blend of coastal and cowgirl—palm trees, pine flatwoods, and the soft thud of hooves on sugar sand.

As I drove through Golden Gate Estates, I caught myself daydreaming—the kind of daydream where you buy a few acres, build a barndominium, and give your horse the kind of at-home life that makes both of you happy.

Then reality arrived in the form of a single word: Hurricanes.

At the time, I had absolutely no hurricane experience.

The last thing I wanted was to find myself trying to evacuate a horse while half of South Florida attempted to leave at the same time.

I had evacuated horses ahead of a wildfire in Arizona. But I knew those roads and it wasn’t a mass exodus.

Standing in Golden Gate Estates, I realized I wasn’t ready to repeat that experience with hurricanes.

That was the moment I knew Naples—and other beach communities—could be my escape, my coastal reset, but not my home base.

So I stayed in Central Florida, where hurricanes remain a possibility but the logistics are kinder, and I let the coasts become my playground instead of my responsibility.

Hiking the Wild Side of Naples

Every place I’ve lived, I’ve adjusted my riding and hiking to the local terrain.

Delaware and the Jersey Shore offered parks and long beach walks. Arizona traded shade for red rock, elevation gains, and desert washes. Florida introduced me to mangroves, pine flatwoods, and wetlands.

The terrain changed; the daily mileage simply found a new backdrop.

As an avid hiker, I normally cover six to eight miles a day, six days a week, so Naples’ trails and boardwalks were an easy invitation.

I relied heavily on the AllTrails app to help me find routes that wouldn’t leave me lost, isolated, or starring in a local news segment.

My first hike was the Gordon River Greenway, a peaceful 2.8-mile out-and-back trail combining paved pathways and elevated boardwalks through mangroves and shaded wetlands.

From there, I ventured into Florida’s largest state park: Fakahatchee Strand Preserve.

The Big Cypress Bend Boardwalk stretches 2,500 feet through spectacular swamp scenery before ending at an observation deck overlooking an alligator pond.

It’s the kind of place where you half expect a nature documentary narrator to emerge from the trees.

I also hiked a section of the Florida Trail along East Main Tram, an easy four-mile out-and-back route following former logging roads.

Parts were muddy but manageable, and thanks to the wisdom of previous hikers posting on AllTrails, I wore waterproof boots instead of discovering the mud the hard way.

Tin City After Dark

No Naples visit would be complete without a stop at Tin City, conveniently located within walking distance of the Hyatt.

The shops were fun. The waterfront was beautiful.

But the real entertainment arrived after dark.

One evening, as I dined on the open-air deck at Riverwalk, a party boat returned to the dock carrying passengers who were enthusiastically singing to the music.

They were blissfully happy, rum-punch powered, and ready to toast anything that wasn’t nailed down.

My favorite was the final passenger to leave the boat.

She was still dancing to music that no longer existed.

The crew attempted to guide her down the gangway.

One even tried dancing her toward the exit.

Eventually she was escorted safely onto the dock, where she continued performing for the benefit of waterfront diners.

Last I saw, she was twirling toward the nearest bar like an adorable dancing diva.

Not Every Place Is Meant to Be Home

The best part of Naples has always been its effortless elegance.

The soft Gulf light and the calm water. The breezes that feel like an exhale.

Naples never seems to demand attention. It simply exists, confident in what it is, and that quiet existence is part of its charm.

When I was searching for a place to call home, Naples taught me something important: not every place you love is meant to be where you live.

Some places become escapes, others become the places you return to when life feels too loud.

Every visit reminds me why it remains one of my favorite coastal escapes—a place where nature, adventure, and coastal elegance come together effortlessly.

Part of the Coastal Cowgirl Series