Not so obvious hidden gems around Miami, from a local
About 25 miles south of Miami, right next to Biscayne National Park, you’ll spot something on the skyline that was certainly not on any postcard in the gift shop. That would be the Turkey Point Nuclear Generating Station – the 11th largest power plant in the U.S.
So, what does this have to do with “hidden things to do in Miami”? Give me some rope and give me room to tango.
When I was a kid – back when Bill Clinton was on TV explaining the intricacies that a person could aspire to in the boudoir with a cigar – I was living the full Florida pre-teen experience. Think “Stranger Things” – except our monsters made those in the Upside Down look like plush toys. Radiation? Crocodiles? Snakes? Yes. All of the above. Oh and also a skunk ape. But more on that later.
Every so often, my dad and his buddies would take us to one of the canals that snake off from the nuclear plant. They were runoff waterways, warm and murky with 3 eyed fish, less H2O and also more primordial chowder. Why? Because, due to the elevated water temperature, marine life would flock to it like it was spring break in Miami Beach. They’d breed, feed and go full National Geographic. It was the 90s and they were rehearsing “The Bad Touch.”
My dad, a big fan of “Shark Week” and a clearly a bigger fan of ignoring common sense would swing by Publix for discount meat. So, we’d chum the water and wait. By age 14, I could tell the difference between a blacktip and a mako, and I thought that it was normal.
You’re probably thinking, this kid’s dad was unhinged. And yes, probably. But in Miami, feeding sharks on the weekend is a tradition. There were a dozen other dads standing on that shoreline with Styrofoam coolers and bags full of chicken innards. And for the gators? Guess what, pro-tip, bring marshmallows – they love them.
The best part? The canals are still out there. There are still teeming. And still very photographable. That is, if you’re into predators that smell blood from three zip codes away.
And that’s just one of the weird, bizarre, off-map things you can do in Miami. Let’s get into the rest. Oh yeah, one of them involves Bigfoot.
1. Skunk Ape Research Headquarters – Everglades’ own cryptid outpost
Yes, we really do have a Bigfoot research station. About an hour west of Miami in Ochopee, tucked off Tamiami Trail and next to a gator souvenir shop, sits the Skunk Ape Research Headquarters. This is where Florida’s favorite cryptid, tall, hairy, possibly on vacation from Portland, roams. He’s been seen stealing fruit, lurking behind airboats and minding his business deep in the swamps.
The HQ is part museum, part kitsch roadside attraction and part bait shop. There’s an exhibit and of course, a gift shop. Typically, there’s a guy who’ll talk to you for two hours if you make eye contact. And the weird part? After twenty minutes, looking at all the swamp from one of the windows, you’ll also believe.
2. Nike Missile Site HM-69 – cold war in the swamp
Hidden in the belly of Everglades National Park, beyond the gators and just past where Google Maps stops working, lies a legit nuclear missile base. It’s called HM-69, and it was built during the Cold War when the U.S. thought Cuba might fling something more aggressive than cigars.
This place had actual Nike Hercules missiles. They were fully operational, pointed toward the sky, and guarded by soldiers.
Today, it’s weirdly intact. You can walk around the bunkers, hear stories from rangers who treat espionage like bedtime tales, and feel that unique American anxiety that only comes from standing next to cold war tech inside a national park.
3. The Venetian Pool – the swimming hole built by eccentric gods
In the heart of Coral Gables, surrounded by manicured lawns and expensive homes, you’ll find the Venetian Pool. It’s a massive, man-made swimming lagoon carved out of a coral rock quarry in 1924.
This isn’t your average pool. It has waterfalls, caves, a bridge, and water so blue it looks like an Instagram filter had a baby with a screensaver from the 90s. It’s filled and drained daily with fresh spring water. No chlorine. No floaties. Just Mediterranean vibes in the middle of a region that once considered naming itself “Country Club City.”
4. Shark Valley Visitor Center – but the sharks are mostly theoretical
Despite the name, Shark Valley doesn’t have a valley and the sharks are mostly theoretical – until you spot a fin and one of the rangers tells you it is just a bull shark and that those suckers can swim in freshwater. To which you’ll ask, “Sharks and gators?” To which he’ll reply, “And anacondas, and bats the size of airplanes and, yup, tarantulas.” To which you’ll say, “Check please. And can Uber take me to the airport?”
This place had the longest uninterrupted view of the Everglades, thanks to a 15-mile loop road that might be the flattest piece of earth this side of Nebraska.
Rent a bike, or hop on the tram. You’ll ride past sawgrass, gators sunbathing, and maybe even the elusive snail kite. There’s a 65-foot observation tower at the halfway point, which gives you a 360-degree view of forever. Or at least until the mosquitoes find you.
5. Nixon Beach Sandbar – booze, boats and no president
Despite the name, Richard Nixon never hung out here (as far as we know). But it’s called that because it’s within shouting distance of Nixon’s old Key Biscayne compound, and locals love unofficial naming conventions.
The Nixon Sandbar is weird and bizarre and a party on the surf. This is what happens when you mix saltwater, floating speakers, inflatable unicorns, and too much disposable income decide to take Spanish fly and get freaky. Boats anchor and people wade and suddenly you’re in a saltwater rave where the dress code is none and the vibe is Jimmy Buffett and Taylor Swift and, yes, that’s the soundtrack of Hamilton.
If you want to feel like you’re inside a Florida beer commercial without the cameras, this is your place.
6. Turkey Point Canals – the radioactive shark hot tub
Let’s circle back to Turkey Point, because honestly, it’s too strange to leave as just an intro.
This nuclear power plant doesn’t give public tours. But its shadow looms over a bizarre little corner of Miami-Dade County where sharks come to put on some Marvin Gaye and have date night. The runoff canals are heated by the plant’s cooling system, making them the Florida Keys’ spa for apex predators.
Wildlife researchers (and my dad) have found that the sharks love it here. It’s warm, cozy and radioactive-adjacent. And it’s proof that in Florida, you never really know what’s lurking under the surface – except that it definitely has teeth.
7. Coral Castle – the heartbreak shrine built by a Latvian wizard
In Homestead, just far enough from Miami to make it feel like you’ve crossed into the Twilight Zone, you will come across Coral Castle. This limestone labyrinth was chiseled by a man whose fiancée ditched him and he somehow ended up reinventing gravity.
Edward Leedskalnin, five feet tall, maybe 100 pounds soaking wet, spent 28 years moving 1100 tons of coral rock – alone. No help. But also, no witnesses. No heavy machinery. Just heartbreak and what he claimed were “magnetic secrets.”
He built a working sundial, rocking chairs, a telescope and a nine-ton gate that once swung open with a push of the finger. Today, it creaks like a tombstone.
The place attracts all sorts of people. You’ll find folks that swear they’ve talked to ETs, elves, fairy queens, the ghost of Presley or the devil in this place. Theories are all over the place, from alien AI tech to magnetic vortexes. But the truth? Ed got dumped so hard he created a national landmark. Florida, ladies and gentlemen. It happens.
8. Bay of Pigs Museum – memory and martyrs in Little Havana
Hidden in Little Havana is a museum that burns slow, like a good cigar and old wounds. The Brigade 2506 Museum tells the story of the failed Bay of Pigs invasion from the people who lived it: Cuban exiles who trained with the CIA and tried to take back their homeland in 1961.
It ended badly. Very badly. To what degree? I triple dare you to say: “Kennedy was a great president” in their presence.
Inside, you’ll find faded uniforms, rusted rifles, love letters and photos of men who stared down death and communism with pineapple grenades and a Cuba Libre. No slick videos or curated gift shop. Just raw history served with café cubano and side-eye.
The volunteers here? They remember everything. Therefore, speak with respect. This isn’t a place for selfies.
You’re not lost – yet
In Miami, the real attractions aren’t marked with neon signs or Yelp reviews. They’re hidden in the swamps, tucked behind missile silos or floating in shallow water surrounded by people named Rico who own three jet skis and no furniture.
These places, the forgotten, the mythic, the too-weird-to-Google are the beating heart of South Florida. Not because they’re polished, but because they’re keep Florida weird.
Did you know about these hidden Miami destinations? If so, let us know in the comments!
