MARATHON, Fla. -- There's only one rap on the Florida Keys: plenty of water, but not much beach.

Stephen Frink, TDC Divers survey the Christ of the Deep statue in the Key Largo National Marine Sanctuary. This 9-foot-tall, 4,000-pound replica of the Christ of the Abysses located in the waters off the coast of Italy is submerged in 25 feet of water. Click photo for larger image. If you go ... Florida Keys The Florida Keys state parks generally charge admission. Entrance fees for vehicles vary according to number of passengers, starting at about $3.50 per day. Additional fees for campsite (including water and electricity), boat ramps and daily pavilion rentals can apply. All Keys parks are accessed from U.S. Highway 1 (you can't get lost). For details on every Florida state park, visit www.dep.state.fl.us/parks. John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park: Mile marker 102.5, north of Key Largo in the Florida Keys. 1-305-451-1202 Curry Hammock State Park: Mile marker 56.2, Marathon. 1-850-245-2157. Kayak rentals, nature programs. No camping. Sombrero Beach: Mile marker 50, Marathon. 1-305-292-4560. City park with free admission, no camping. Bahia Honda State Park: Mile marker 37, Bahia Honda. 1-305-872-2353. Oceanside and bayside beaches, Charter fishing and snorkeling and scuba expeditions depart from marina. Kayak and watersport equipment rentals available. Snack bar.

The meltingly turquoise waters are, of course, the big draw to this skinny, 106-mile claw off the heel of Florida for kite surfers, snorkelers and sport fishermen, and they always have been. Trade ships made tiny Key West the richest city in Florida back in 1838. A century later, after Harry Truman made his winter White House there, tourism took the place of trade. Now hotels and marinas have sprouted along both the oceanside (facing southeast) and the bayside (northwest) of the archipelago.

But without a high-powered boat -- or kite -- visitors may wonder where they can find some sand to sink into. The Keys has carved out beach space at 10 state parks from Key Largo to Key West, two of them primarily underwater. The mid-section of the Keys, from Islamorada to Big Pine Key, offers several ultra-scenic strands that are worth a drive down Highway 1.

But first, about those beaches: Because the coral reefs protect the Keys from the surf that usually pounds shorelines into sand, the state actually needs to import it. It's a bit like carrying coals to Newcastle, but it does provide a way to approach the surf. The waters are calm (no lifeguards required), shallow and clear enough that you can spy the occasional purple jellyfish with ease.

Heading south from Miami in a white rental car (seemingly the vehicle of choice on U.S. 1), our family traced the thin red line of the road on a map and calculated that our trip to Marathon would take an hour. It's actually more than double that, on a route that's mostly two-lane. Entering the highway at its northern end, at Milepost 106, we traveled a slow 50 miles to the midpoint of the Keys. But traffic lights were few, and the occasional brilliant water vistas lulled us into relaxed vacation mode.

Had we opted to stop at Pennekamp State Park in Key Largo, we could have saved ourselves some driving; the coral reef park, the northernmost preserve on the Keys, has water sports concessions, glass-bottomed boat tours and a small, lagoon-like beach. But its proximity to the big city also attracts crowds -- some 880,000 visitors annually.

We poked along, past innumerable, unremarkable shopping strips, counting down the green mile markers to number 50 at Marathon. The area is actually a collection of cayos, the Spanish word for low flat islands. The town is the magnet that pulls Duck, Grassy, Crawl, Fat Deer, Stirrup and Vaca Keys together.

Just north of the town lies the Keys' newest park, which is actually a throwback to the old.

Stephen Frink/Florida Keys News Bureau A young moray peers from underneath a coral ledge in the Florida Keys National Marine Sanctuary off Key Largo, Fla. Click photo for larger image.

Curry Hammock State Park calls itself "the Florida Keys as they used to be." It may be a rueful acknowledgment of new development, but it's an accurate description of this 1,000-acre islet. As we approached the ocean, a flash of neon blue split the sky. A wetsuited kitesurfer hurtled 30 feet above the shallows, dangling from a nylon parasail. He plunged like Icarus, slapped his surfboard against the water, then snapped out to sea again.

Wow.

Half a dozen kitesurfers crisscrossed the horizon. Curry Hammock is popular with these daredevils because it prohibits motorboats. Other visitors have yet to discover the park, which is also part of its charm. Here, fishing, hiking, and paddling are the quiet alternatives, and the antics of the kitesurfers are the free entertainment. As we settled in, a family of kayakers paddled past, entered a stand of mangroves and vanished up a creek. Egrets stood guard.

Curry Hammock is a raptor count station for Hawk Watch International. From here, it's 1,000 miles across the Gulf of Mexico to their next meal. It's also a destination for snowbirds. Spacious RVs with Canadian license tags, with grills and picnic tables flanking their sites, didn't quite fill the 28-acre campground. The park offers a bike path, restrooms and a swimming beach (though the bottom was sticky and soft). Invitations to free interpretive programs were posted by the ranger station.

Sombrero Beach isn't a state park, but a city one, and its location on an eastern spit near Marathon town center brings plenty of day-trippers. Sombrero looks like a laid-back Pacific city park, minus the surfers; in addition to deeper waters off the beach, it offers a big playground, basketball courts and pavilions (the latter claimed by local teens).

	Andy Newman/Florida Keys News Bureau The historic old Seven Mile Bridge in the Florida Keys near Marathon, is shown at right, cutting through Pigeon Key, a small island that once housed workers who aided the effort to build Henry Flagler's Overseas Railroad. The more modern span, completed in 1982, is at left. Click image for larger version.

The next day we headed 12 miles south, to Bahia Honda State Park. We were curious to test its claim as the most beautiful beach in the continental United States. Our route took us out of Marathon onto a fragment of Florida history.

South of Pigeon Key, Highway 1 leaves land and crosses Seven Mile Bridge, a mesmerizing arched span to Big Pine Key. Running alongside are remnants of the railway line built by Henry Flagler, who dreamed of a way to pull freight from Key West back to the mainland.

Mr. Flagler, a partner in Standard Oil, wanted to extend his railroad over 128 miles of rock and water. The grueling effort took seven years, and the long water gap between Marathon and Bahia Honda was hard to close. In 1912, the 82-year-old Mr. Flagler rode in triumph to Key West; but in 1935, a Category 5 hurricane hit the Keys. The 17-foot storm surge, higher than the elevation of the islands, wiped out the rail line completely.

Bahia Honda's monument to Mr. Flagler's dream is the broken high-level railroad bridge, dangling 100 feet above open water. The bridge is the southern anchor for the state park, which provided a day's worth of lounging and low-key exploration.

We almost agreed with the "best beach" kudos for the park's three oceanside swim areas; they are sparkling and spacious, if shallow, and bathhouses have freshwater outdoor showers.

But it's the other amenities that make Bahia Honda special. Its bayside marina is a launch point for charter fishing and excursions to Looe Key National Marine Sanctuary. This Y-shaped reef, 12 miles offshore, trapped the remains of the HMS Looe in 1744. Snorkelers and scuba divers explore its 35-foot depths (and boogie along at the underwater music festival held there each July). Bahia Honda offers a butterfly garden and a 3.5-mile bike trail. But our favorite walk took us up to the railroad bridge at sunset.

Tarpon boats were heading home beneath us; we caught the gleam of their trophy catches and happy anglers' smiles in the fading light. A hundred feet over the flat Keys, we could see green islands stretching lazily toward Key West. We felt their pull; we'd keep going for our own glimpse of the tropical tip of the country. But for now, we were content to stroll barefoot, high above the sand.