Sunsets, Sea Turtles, and Bonfires in Bare Feet

The thing about Gulf County is—it doesn’t try too hard. It’s not screaming for your attention with mega-resorts or neon nightlife. You won’t find overpriced beach clubs with velvet ropes. What you will find: coffee on the porch, sand still stuck to your ankles, and sunsets that somehow make you stop mid-sentence.

About an hour east of Panama City, just where the central time zone starts creeping in, Gulf County kind of floats in its own little world. It’s the kind of place where the biggest decisions of the day are which beach to watch the sun dip behind, and should you really put on shoes for dinner.

Mornings Start Quiet—On Purpose

If you’re a sunrise person (or even just a coffee-on-the-porch person), this place gets you. Most folks start the day from a balcony, a beach chair, or the front steps of a vacation rental. You’ve got options—beach cottages, inns, waterfront homes, even campsites if you’re into that rustic-but-still-cute thing.

The sun comes up slowly over the bay, and if it’s sea turtle season (May to October), there’s a good chance someone in a neon vest is already walking the shoreline. These are the volunteers of the St. Joseph Peninsula Turtle Patrol—they’re out every morning, checking nests and keeping watch over the next generation of baby flippers. You can pop into the Forgotten Coast Sea Turtle Center in Port St. Joe for the full story—and maybe a stuffed turtle souvenir if you’re that kind of person (no judgment).

Afternoons Are for Wandering, Not Scheduling

There’s a casual rhythm here that doesn’t involve wristbands or waitlists. Maybe you head to Salinas Bayside Park, where a dock stretches into the bay and the boardwalk trails weave through pines and palmettos. Or maybe you book a horseback ride along the beach—because yes, that’s a thing here, and yes, you’ll feel like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks movie, in the best way.

Cape San Blas has two local outfits—Rockin M Ranch and Broke-a-Toe—that’ll saddle you up even if you’ve never ridden before. The horses are chill, the pace is slow, and the views are completely unfair.

If the water’s calling, there are sunset cruises, dolphin sightings, and snorkel trips with local guides like T-Man’s Charters or Aqua Bear Adventures, who run a 45-foot catamaran that sounds fancier than it is, in the best possible way.

When the Sun Goes Down, It’s Kind of a Big Deal

Sunset watching here is practically a competitive sport—but no one’s setting a stopwatch. St. Joe Beach is the go-to, facing west with that full-drama, gold-pink-orange vibe. Bring a blanket, maybe a to-go box from Shipwreck Raw Bar across the street, and just settle in.

Or go full beach-bonfire mode. You can DIY it (local rules are easy to follow), or call in the pros—Light Up Your Night or San Flea Beach Service will set it all up for you, chairs and all. You just show up with snacks and people you like.

Dinner doesn’t need to be a whole thing, but if you want it to be, there’s plenty. The View serves up seafood with actual tablecloths. Hunt’s Oyster Bar is more beer-and-shuck-it-yourself vibes. White Marlin & Oysterette does fancy-ish with bayfront views and cocktails that don’t skimp. And then there’s Scallop RePUBlic, which is exactly what it sounds like: rustic, local, and probably playing live music by the time the stars come out.

It’s That Kind of Place

The thing about Gulf County is that you don’t need a checklist here. You just need flip-flops, a half-decent beach hat, and a willingness to let things unfold slowly. The sunsets will show up on time. The sea turtles will keep doing their thing. And if you’re lucky, you’ll head home with sand still in your bag and zero regrets about not checking your email all week.