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Fed only by rain and groundwater, the 40-acre lake has been described as among the most pristine dune lakes in Walton County. Water lilies spread across dark, tea-colored water; alligators, nesting bald eagles, ospreys, and a heron rookery all call it home, with marsh connecting it to Morris Lake next door. Because so little development touches its shore, Fuller Lake shows what every dune lake once was — and what clean, careful stormwater management can still protect.

With no boat access and the only way in on foot or by park tour, Morris Lake is among the least disturbed dune lakes on the entire 30A corridor — a living baseline for what these globally rare waters should look like. Its outfall still opens to the Gulf regularly, mixing fresh and salt water in a rhythm few places on Earth share. Keeping stormwater runoff out of lakes like this protects that rhythm, and the birds, dunes, and quiet that depend on it.

Because Campbell Lake sits entirely within protected parkland, it shows what every dune lake could be: clear water dotted with lilies, carnivorous pitcher plants along its edges, and pines mirrored on a still surface. Visitors reach it by trail or park tram, and kayaks and paddleboards can be rented to glide across it. Its clean watershed is no accident — it is what happens when runoff never reaches the water. Protecting the other fourteen lakes means giving them the same chance.

Like all of South Walton's coastal dune lakes, Stallworth periodically opens to the Gulf, mixing fresh and salt water into a rare brackish habitat found in only a handful of places on Earth. With no public lakeside access, most people meet it from the sand, walking the beach as the water glows at dusk. That seclusion is part of its magic — but runoff doesn't respect property lines, and keeping stormwater clean upstream is how this hidden lake stays a treasure.

Coastal dune lakes exist in only a handful of places on Earth — Madagascar, Australia, New Zealand, Oregon, and right here in Walton County — and Allen Lake is one of just fifteen named lakes along our 26 miles of coast. Its calm water shelters wading birds and marsh plants, and herons still stalk the shallows at first light. A small lake has little room to absorb what the land sends it: keeping runoff clean and slow is how we keep Allen Lake alive.

Because dune lakes collect whatever the surrounding land sheds, Oyster Lake tells the stormwater story plainly: major storms and rapid growth along 30A once strained its health and degraded its outfall. The response has been hopeful — restoration work replaced a road culvert with a bridge, rebuilt and stabilized the outfall channel with native vegetation, tackled invasive plants, and added water quality monitoring. The restored banks held firm when Hurricane Michael passed nearby in 2018. Cleaner runoff keeps that recovery going.

Coastal dune lakes exist in only a handful of places on Earth, and Walton County holds the world's densest collection. Draper trades fresh water with the Gulf through an outfall that opens across the beach after heavy rains — a delicate brackish rhythm that researchers from the University of Florida and the Mattie Kelly Environmental Institute have studied for years. But every rooftop and roadway nearby drains toward this basin. Managing that stormwater is how a lake this rare stays this clear.

When heavy rains raise the lake, it spills across the beach to the Gulf — the intermittent outfall that makes coastal dune lakes one of the rarest ecosystems on Earth. Mullet, bream, and redfish share the water with ospreys, herons, and egrets, and a small county easement trail off Blue Lake Road lets paddlers and anglers slip in quietly. Because everything that washes off nearby streets and yards drains toward the lake, keeping runoff clean is how this one stays wild.

Coastal dune lakes exist in only a handful of places on Earth, and the small ones are the most fragile. Little Redfish mixes fresh and Gulf water through an intermittent outfall across the beach, sustaining the fish and birds that depend on that brackish blend. With homes close on every side and 30A crossing its middle, every driveway and street here drains somewhere — and that somewhere is the lake. Clean runoff is how a ten-acre lake survives a build-out.

Coastal dune lakes exist in only a handful of places on Earth, and Walton County holds the only ones in Florida. When Alligator Lake rises high enough, it breaches the dune and trades water with the Gulf, mixing fresh and salt into the brackish blend its fish, wading birds, and marsh plants depend on. A lake this small has little room for error: whatever washes off nearby roads and rooftops ends up here. Keeping runoff clean keeps the dawn over this water as clear as it looks today.

Coastal dune lakes exist in only a handful of places on Earth, and Western Lake ranks among the largest in the Florida Panhandle. Its brackish water — rainfall and groundwater mixing with Gulf surges through an intermittent outfall — supports fish, wading birds, and shoreline plants found almost nowhere else. Kayaks and paddleboards are available to rent right in the park. What flows off our streets and yards flows here; keeping runoff clean keeps this view alive.

Coastal dune lakes exist in only a handful of places on Earth, and Eastern Lake shows why they are worth protecting. Its brackish, naturally tea-dark water periodically breaches the dunes near the Eastern Lake Road beach access, spilling into the Gulf and drawing salt water back in — a rare exchange that sustains a one-of-a-kind ecosystem. Paddlers launch at the county park and glide all the way to the sand. In one of 30A's most built-up corridors, every yard of runoff matters here.

That protection shelters rare life: Gulf Coast lupine, pitcher plants, spoonflower, and one of Florida's largest populations of Curtiss' sandgrass, plus nesting sea turtles, snowy plovers, and the Choctawhatchee beach mouse along the shore. Most visitors know the park by its long boardwalk, which crosses the dunes to the beach with the lake shimmering nearby. A landscape this intact is exactly what clean stormwater practice upstream is meant to keep that way — and why runoff from the growing corridor around it still matters here.

When heavy rain raises the lake, it can break through the beach and pour into the Gulf — a rare exchange of fresh and salt water that lets bass and flounder share the same brackish lake, alongside the wading birds that feed at its edges. Paddlers can launch from the public dock at the Camp Creek Lake access in Seacrest. Because the lake collects whatever the surrounding land sheds, untreated runoff from rooftops and roads ends up here — keeping this water clean starts upstream.

At nearly 800 acres, Lake Powell is the largest coastal dune lake in Florida and North America, and it carries an Outstanding Florida Waters designation. When its outfall opens to the Gulf, salt and fresh water mix into rare brackish habitat where saltwater and freshwater species swim side by side. Kayakers, paddleboarders, anglers, and birders share its open water — and every drop of runoff from surrounding rooftops and roads ends up here. Protecting this lake means keeping that water clean at the source.