Panama City Beach

The dizzying number of high-rises built along the Miracle Strip—about two dozen in total—has led to the formation of a new moniker for this stretch of the Panhandle: the "Construction Coast." But the vast majority of the new buildings are condominiums, not hotels, and many (but certainly not all) of the older mom-and-pop motels that once gave this town its beach-resort flavor have fallen victim to the wrecking ball. Invasive growth has turned the main thoroughfare, Front Beach Road, into a dense mass of traffic that peaks in spring and between June and August when college students descend en masse from neighboring states. The bright side of the changing landscape is that land values have risen so dramatically in the last few years that many of the attractions that gave parts of this area a seedy reputation (i.e., strip joints and dive bars) have been driven out, replaced by new retailers and the occasional franchise "family" restaurant or chain store.

The one constant in this sea of change, however, is the area's natural beauty that, in some areas at least, manages to excuse its gross overcommercialization. The shoreline in town is 17 mi long, so even when a mile is packed with partying students, there are 16 more where you can toss a beach blanket and find the old motels that managed to survive. What's more, the beaches along the Miracle Strip, with their powder-soft sand and translucent emerald waters, are some of the finest in the state; in one sense, anyway, it's easy to understand why so many condos are being built here.

Cabanas, umbrellas, sailboats, Wave Runners, and floats are available from any of dozens of vendors along the beach. For an aerial view, for about $30 you can strap yourself beneath a parachute and go parasailing as you're towed aloft behind a speedboat a few hundred yards offshore. And St. Andrews State Park, on the southern end of the beaches, is treasured by locals and visitors alike. The area's incredible white sands, navigable waterways, and plentiful marine life that attracted Spanish conquistadors today draw invaders of the vacationing kind—namely families, the vast majority of whom hail from nearby Georgia and Alabama.

When coming here, be sure to set your sights for Panama City Beach. Panama City is its beachless inland cousin.