One can only wonder whether you ever found your ultimate destination. But after visiting Amelia Island, a secluded nature preserve on Florida's northeast coast, You will be discovered that this kind of ideal was closer than you had realized.

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For South Floridians, this corner of the state may seem a bit, well, dull, as a vacation respite. After all, what's so exotic about a region cluttered with pulp mills?

You will be realized the good news about 45 minutes outside of Jacksonville as you headed over a bridge to Amelia Island, an engaging, environmentally protected barrier island that offers a stunning variety of images.

Think old South -- century-old live oaks, moss and lace curtains. Then think Prince of Tides -- sea marsh, shrimp boaters and salty, moist breezes. Then think Miami Beach -- only without any people visible for miles. Now you have a sense of Amelia's rich diversity.

Compared with the Everglades, this 13-mile stretch of sea country is pure north Florida: a world that recalls verdant marshlands as far as you can see, where the silence of a breezy, sunny day is interrupted only by the remote put-put of a fisherman somewhere amid the green denseness and the mesmerizing buzz of cicadas.

If you are even remotely interested in nature, Amelia Island offers the thinking person's alternative to Disney World. The beauty of this island ("the same size as Manhattan" one resident brags) is that it combines so many ecosystems. Within a few minutes by foot or on a bike (bicycle rentals are available and advised) through a live oak forest, you'll find coquina shells on alabaster sands. During a sunrise beach walk, it might be happened upon two baby hammerhead sharks (perhaps hooked by a fisherman) lying on shore among the driftwood, infant harbingers of the great deep.

After shopping, you may ride horseback on the beach, joined by other tourists, on steeds provided by a private stable. Run by several women, who obviously care greatly for the animals, they gave us hints about the personality and quirks of each horse as we saddled up. Although the ride was a bit tame--full galloping was verboten--splashing through emerald waves on saddle in full sunlight lent a new way to enjoy the surf.

A few miles away, Little Talbot Island State Park offers five miles of beach and family camping facilities along ancient dunes, which are constantly changing as forest and ocean habitats meld. Shelling is superb, and hikers and canoers can find back-country trekking. But remember: in these areas mosquito repellent is as important as drinking water.

For the less solitary, the Amelia Island Plantation Resort, a 1,200-acre, upscale guest community (doubles go from $219 to $290 a night, depending on ocean proximity) offers championship golf courses and tennis courts. Here, modern, apartment-style villas nestled in oak forests are just minutes away from the ocean and bike paths.

Fernandina Beach, the island's main city, is located 35 miles from Georgia claims the quaint history of a seaport town ruled under eight flags. Here, historian Ron Kurtz, director of the Amelia Island Museum of History -- and well-loved in spite of his Yankee upbringing -- enjoys sharing historic tidbits with museum visitors.

A rail-thin, impeccably dressed man with a penchant for dramatic gestures, Kurtz previously worked in children's theater and a sense of enchantment endures. He happily shares the city's multi-ethnic past. You want detail? Kurtz has detail. Take Gen. James Oglethorp's visit to the port in the 1730's, during which he named the area Amelia after the daughter of George III.

The area's main drag, Centre Street, is a three-block cluster of storefronts offering everything from wood-carved marine animals to upscale consignment goods (nearly new Jones of New York silk suits cost $120).

Behind Centre Street is a magnolia-graced, Victorian-style historic district of quaint bed and breakfasts. Sprawling front porches harken back to a time when Southerners escaped the heat after dinner by moving outside, gathering on porch swings to fan their necks and weave stories in the camelia-scented dusk.

Today, air conditioning has changed that lifestyle, but the architectural charm of Queen Anne turrets and stained-glass windows remains. Many dwellings, like the 1885 Fairbanks House (double-bed rooms run from $95 to $165 per night) host weddings and honeymooners drawn to the lace-curtain charm of canopy beds, authentic linens and antique-embellished dining parlors; here culinary delights include mango soup, a succulent puree of mango, rice vinegar and cilantro.

In these parlors, the soft drawl of "Har' y'all tuhday?" greetings remind you that this is the quintessential South -- and just 35 miles from the Georgia border.

No, this area clearly no es Miami. This piece of Florida has its own rhythm, one of antebellum politeness and seaport ruddiness. Here the only "salsa" to be found is in a grocery store. Frothy, thick Cuban coffee -- which you will be beginning to crave -- might be considered "vul-gah."

Paradoxically, visiting north Florida is, for tourists much like what New Englanders might utter upon entering Miami: "This is another country."

Your favorite experience might be wildlife tour led by Christina Nelson, a resident naturalist at the Amelia Island Plantation Resort. Fresh with youthful mission to save wildlife, Christina spends her off hours with a variety of habitat-nurturing groups. She runs several tours for children, a major plus for families with kids who enjoy wildlife.

Construction of the resort's new hotel, for example, requires that some oaks, 175-year-old dowagers, be removed. Despite staff efforts to save them, the oaks are too old to survive replanting.

And there is the reality of disappearing species, such as the painted bunting, which is rapidly losing its habitat. She has organized island residents to partipate in a state program identifying their food sources, but she remains a woman with a cause.