RV Campgrounds in Florida: Hookups, Sites, Honest Reviews

Every fall, when the snowbirds start migrating, the same question lands in my inbox: where do you point a fifth-wheel in Florida for a month? It usually comes from somebody who has never camped a day that didn't involve a hotel pool. So here's the list, written down proper. I'm a Montana feller and I've never lived in Florida, but I know how to tell which of the RV campgrounds in Florida is worth the money and which is just a parking lot with palm trees.
Florida's a strange place to RV. Half the campgrounds are basically retirement neighborhoods on wheels, the other half are state parks with the prettiest beaches in the lower 48 and reservation systems that'll make you cuss. Sadie, my border collie, gets confused by the alligators. I get confused by the booking windows. We manage.
What follows is the honest take: the ones I'd send my own family to, the ones I wouldn't, and the trade-offs nobody mentions on the glossy brochures.
How RV campgrounds in Florida actually work
First thing to understand: Florida state parks book out 11 months in advance to the day, 8 a.m. Eastern, on the Florida State Parks site. That is not a suggestion. The good beach sites at Bahia Honda or Anastasia are gone in under sixty seconds. If you want a state-park site in season (November through March), you set a calendar reminder and you log in at 7:55.
Private RV parks are easier to get into but more variable. Some are KOAs and Jellystones with pools and gift shops, and I'm always suspicious of any campground with a gift shop, a rule I've held since '88. Others are mom-and-pop operations that haven't raised their rates since the Bush administration. The good ones fill up too, just not as savagely.
For full hookup, you're looking at water, 30/50-amp electric, sewer, and sometimes cable and WiFi if the manager's been keeping up with the times. Most Florida private RV parks offer full hookup on every site. State parks are a mix. Some have sewer, most have just water and electric with a dump station on the way out. If you're still deciding which parks deserve a reservation at all, our rundown of Florida state parks for camping covers the tent side of the same booking system.
State park RV sites worth the hassle
If you can get a reservation, state parks are where you want to be. The sites are bigger, the trees are real, and you're not staring into someone's slide-out six feet away. Here's the short list I keep in my notebook.
- Bahia Honda State Park (Big Pine Key, US-1 mile marker 37): the Buttonwood loop has water and electric, sites right on the water. Best beach in the Keys, no contest.
- Anastasia State Park (St. Augustine, off A1A): wooded sites, beach a short walk, town nearby for groceries and pretty good shrimp.
- Myakka River State Park (east of Sarasota on SR-72): big oaks, gators in the river, quieter than the coastal parks. Full hookup not available, but they have a dump station.
- St. George Island State Park (off US-98, Apalachicola area): Panhandle gulf coast, sugar sand, less crowded because it's a hike from anywhere.
- Henderson Beach State Park (Destin, US-98): small campground, fills instantly, but the beach is something else.
- Jonathan Dickinson State Park (Hobe Sound, US-1): pine flatwoods, river access, biggest state park in southeast Florida.
- Grayton Beach State Park (30A, between Destin and Panama City): the campground is small but well-laid-out, and the beach has been on every magazine list for a reason.
A note on Bahia Honda: the reservation system trips up first-timers, and the usual way in is checking for cancellations every morning for two weeks. That's the game. Sites do come open, especially when somebody's plans change. If you're flexible, you can pick up some good ones inside of two weeks out.
Private RV parks that don't make me wince
I'll be honest, most of the big resort-style RV parks in Florida aren't for me. Concrete pads, swimming pools shaped like the state, golf carts everywhere. But I understand the appeal: predictable, easy, full hookup on every site, and you can stay a month and they'll wash your rig.
A few that get repeat business from folks I trust:
Topsail Hill Preserve RV Resort near Santa Rosa Beach is technically run by the state park but operates like a private resort. Full hookup, paved pads, tram to the beach. Pricey for state-park land but worth it if you want hookups in the Panhandle.
Fort Wilderness at Disney is the Disney one, yes. Full hookup, ridiculous in concept, but the sites are huge and wooded and the bus system means you can leave the truck parked. Grandkids love it. My wallet does not.
Encore Sunshine Key in the Keys, near Bahia Honda. Pricey. Tightly packed. But you're in the Keys, and the alternative is driving back to the mainland every night. Used to be quieter, then the internet found it.
Red Coconut RV Park on Fort Myers Beach has an old Florida feel, right on the beach side. It took a hit from Hurricane Ian and has been rebuilding. Worth checking the current state before you book.
National forest and county park options
This is where I actually like to camp, and where most folks don't think to look. Ocala National Forest has several campgrounds (Juniper Springs, Salt Springs, Alexander Springs) that take RVs up to a reasonable length. No full hookups, mostly electric and water at best, but the springs are 72 degrees year-round and the sites have actual breathing room. Check current site info on the US Forest Service rec site before you go because some loops close seasonally for maintenance.
Fort De Soto Park in Pinellas County (south of St. Petersburg) is run by the county and it's one of the best-kept-secret RV spots in the state. Waterfront sites, full hookup, and a reservation system that's marginally less brutal than the state park one. Still books fast in winter though.
If you're the kind of RVer who likes a little hiking, Ocala has the Florida Trail running right through it. For trail planning I usually start on AllTrails Florida and then cross-check with the forest service maps because AllTrails will sometimes show you a route through private land or a closed section. More on Florida day-hike options over on our hiking page, and trail roundups for specifics.
What hookups you actually need in Florida
Here's where folks overspend. Florida is hot and humid, which means you want 50-amp service if your rig has two air conditioners, and you'll want them both running from about April through October. 30-amp will run one AC fine but you'll be making choices about the microwave.
Sewer hookup is real nice for stays over a week. For a weekend, the dump station works fine and saves you money. Water pressure varies wildly, so bring a regulator, every single time. Campground water systems can spike high enough to blow a hose clean off the spigot. That's not theoretical: a park outside Ocala in '19 had a fellow's rig soaked that way.
WiFi at Florida RV parks is mostly a fiction. If you need internet for work, bring a hotspot. The cell signal is generally good on both coasts and most of the I-75 corridor, weaker in the Big Cypress and parts of the Panhandle.
Reading a listing before you book
A campground listing can say "full hookup" and still leave you guessing. Check whether the electric is 30-amp, 50-amp, or both, because an adapter lets you plug in but it won't give you more power than the pedestal supplies. Ask whether the sewer connection sits on your side of the rig, since a short hose and a badly placed inlet make for a bad afternoon. Pull-through sites are easier for big rigs, while back-in sites tend to be more private and shadier. If the park lists a maximum rig length, believe it, and measure the whole combination with the tow vehicle or hitch included. Those few minutes on the phone beat discovering the problem at the gate.
And for the love of Pete, if you're tent camping alongside the RV crowd, which some folks do with a setup trailer, make sure your tent has good ventilation. Florida humidity will rot a cheap tent in one season. Same goes for your sleeping bag; you want something light and breathable, not the mummy bag you'd bring to Glacier. We've got broader gear picks if you're outfitting fresh.
The gotchas nobody mentions
Florida camping has some quirks. Bugs are real and they don't care about your screen room. No-see-ums will come through standard window screen mesh like it's not there. Get the fine-mesh netting if you're staying any length of time.
Hurricane season runs June through November. Most parks will refund you if there's a mandatory evacuation, but read the cancellation policy, and keep an eye on the National Hurricane Center forecasts when a storm is brewing. After Ian, a lot of the southwest coast parks had months-long closures and reservations got messy.
Alligators are not a joke but they're not what'll get you either. Don't let small dogs near the water's edge at dawn or dusk. I keep Sadie leashed and away from any pond, canal, or drainage ditch in Florida, doesn't matter how innocent it looks. She thinks I'm being unreasonable. I'm not.
Snowbird season (January through March) is when prices double and availability craters. If you've got flexibility, May and October are the secret good months: weather's still nice, parks have space, and rates drop. June through September you can have your pick but you'll be sweating through your shirt by 9 a.m. Browse the parks overview if you want to compare regions, or see how our Georgia RV campground guide stacks up if you're breaking the drive north. A decent stove is worth bringing too, since restaurant food adds up fast on a month-long trip.
My honest take on a two-week trip
If it were me and my wife heading down for two weeks, I'd split it: a week at one of the state parks on the gulf side, Grayton or St. George, and a week at Fort De Soto. Skip the resort-style places unless you've got grandkids who need a pool. For a longer haul, mix in some Ocala National Forest time so you remember what trees sound like without a generator next door. Book the state parks the minute the 11-month window opens, set alarms, and have a backup plan. That's the whole secret. Everything else is just figuring out which beach you like best.
Common questions
- When do Florida state park RV reservations open?
- Eleven months in advance to the day, at 8 a.m. Eastern, through the Florida State Parks website. Popular beach sites like Bahia Honda and Anastasia book within a minute or two. Set a reminder and log in early.
- Do I need 50-amp service for Florida RV camping?
- If your rig has two air conditioners and you're camping any time from April through October, yes. 30-amp will run one AC fine but you'll have to manage other electrical loads. Most full hookup sites in Florida offer both.
- What's the best time of year for RV camping in Florida?
- May and October hit the sweet spot — weather is still warm, the snowbird crowds are gone, and rates drop. January through March is peak season with the highest prices and tightest availability.
- Are there full hookup sites in Florida state parks?
- Some, but not most. Many state park RV loops offer water and electric only, with a dump station near the exit. Topsail Hill Preserve is the notable exception with full hookup. Check site details when you book.
- Is it safe to camp with a small dog in Florida?
- Yes, with sense. Keep dogs leashed and away from any water's edge — ponds, canals, drainage ditches — especially at dawn and dusk because of alligators. Most campgrounds are dog-friendly otherwise.
- What should I do if a hurricane is forecast during my reservation?
- Most Florida parks issue refunds for mandatory evacuations, but policies vary. Read the cancellation terms before booking, monitor NOAA forecasts during hurricane season (June through November), and have a backup inland destination in mind.
Buck spent 38 years in green and grey before hanging up the radio. He writes the way he talked at the ranger desk — half answers, half stories about his Border collie Sadie. He once spent 17 nights in a row at the same Wyoming dispersed site and considers that a fine vacation. Buck is suspicious of glamping but will admit a four-season tent helped him after a 2019 incident he still won't fully explain.
38 years with the National Park Service (retired). Backcountry permit clerk turned trail-crew foreman at Glacier, Yellowstone, and the North Cascades.
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