A scenic sunset photograph over the water at Davis Islands Beach in Tampa, Florida, taken on July 3, 2026. The sky is filled with dramatic, textured clouds glowing with vibrant shades of fiery orange, peach, and soft purple. Below, the calm water beautifully reflects the colorful sky. In the midground, the dark silhouettes of numerous moored sailboats with tall masts are scattered across the bay, set against a distant, dark tree line of trees and homes on the horizon.Davis Islands Beach in Tampa, Florida on July 3, 2026. Credit: Thomas Hallock / Creative Loafing Tampa Bay

To live in Florida means daily encounters with a beauty you don’t deserve. And to live on the Gulf Coast means you have pictures of sunsets on your phone. The photos litter social media feeds. Pantone “sunset-of-the-year” rust and mauve, stopping time, with a surrealistically blazing sphere slotting into the Gulf of Mexico—or maybe the same, but from a shimmering Wal-Mart parking lot, sky split between a rosy cumulus cloudbank and slate gray apocalypse. Tampa Bay offers all this, a ridiculous sublime, free for the taking. 

In the great Hillsborough-Pinellas debate, Gulf beaches claim the “best sunset” category. After living 25 years in St. Petersburg and one in Tampa, I’ve come to an obvious conclusion: that St. Pete is the prettier city, Tampa by far has the richer history and culture. 

Sunsets reflect that split. 

My partner Julie and I, broke teachers on summer vacation, set out to find our favorite spot to end the day. The rule: stay within city limits. We don’t get paid until August. So where do we go, on the cheap, to capture the sculptural grit of Tampa nature?

Here’s my cub reporting.

Curtis Hixon Waterfront Park

A scenic twilight photograph looking down the Tampa Riverwalk in Tampa, Florida, taken on June 23, 2026. A curved, paved pedestrian walkway with a smooth metal railing sweeps along the right side of the frame, bordering a wide, calm river. The path is lined with palm trees and several tall American flag banners. In the distance, the dark silhouette of the Cass Street Bridge spans the water, set against a clear sky glowing with warm orange, peach, and soft blue sunset hues that reflect gently on the water's surface. A single individual can be seen walking down the path away from the camera.Tampa Riverwalk in Tampa, Florida on June 23, 2026. Credit: Thomas Hallock / Creative Loafing Tampa Bay

If Tampa has a front yard, it runs by the Riverwalk, the beloved promenade through a downtown that gets pretty scary for pedestrians. Describing the Riverwalk, a co-worker from out of town once put it best: “it’s like those architectural renderings, used to pitch a project, with all different people doing cool things—only the renderings are real.” She’s right, you see it all. White, brown, Black. Shirtless bros, jogger moms pushing baby strollers, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Lululemon, and women in hijabs. Much to my surprise, however, the actual sunset disappoints. You’d think the minarets on the Plant Hotel or the cantilevered Cass Street Bridge would provide the perfect backdrop—but nope, in summer at least, the angle is off. Still, the people. “This is the city,” Walt Whitman gushed, “and I am one of its citizens.”

Tampa International Airport

When searching for tips, my best advice came from Phoebe, the airport’s chatty flamingo and social media influencer. Phoebe (or her person—who’s to say?) pointed out that TPA garages are free for an hour. Her favorite moment: “after an afternoon thunderstorm, when the clouds clear and the runway glows pink like a flamingo.” And yes, indeed, light off the tarmac shimmers like her plumage—making this the perfect spot for romance. Thirty years ago my historian friend Evan (lover of all things Tampa) proposed to his wife on the roof of a TPA garage, the smart kids still come here for a cheap date or maybe to kiss.

A scenic sunset photograph overlooking the tarmac at Tampa Airport in Tampa, Florida, taken on June 28, 2026. In the foreground, the dark silhouettes of two individuals stand close together, viewed from behind, with one person resting an arm around the other's back as they look out toward the horizon. Below them, the expansive airport grounds feature parked passenger airplanes, including one with a visible Delta tail fin, situated near terminal buildings and ground equipment. In the background, a bright orange sun sets on the distant horizon under a vast sky filled with textured clouds reflecting soft twilight hues.Tampa Airport in Tampa, Florida on June 28, 2026. Credit: Thomas Hallock / Creative Loafing Tampa Bay

Picnic Island

You never know who you’ll meet at the day’s end, and in a new city especially, these chance encounters provide a break from the inevitable loneliness. On the MacDill side of Picnic Island, Julie and I chat up a parent from Dovetail, a dream-folk duo trying to catch the hazy light for a trippy photoshoot. Full confession, I had never heard of “dream-folk”; but I cannot help but like the tattooed dad, watching over his musician kid.

A scenic sunset photograph of a metal disc golf basket standing on the sandy beach at Picnic Island Park in Tampa, Florida, on June 25, 2026. The basket, which features a small dark flag blowing in the wind on top, is positioned in the foreground amidst patches of grass and sand, with small wooden posts at its base. In the background, the calm waters of the bay stretch toward a distant horizon under a dramatic sky filled with thick, heavy gray clouds. A warm, golden light from the setting sun breaks through the clouds near the horizon, reflecting softly on the water.Picnic Island Park in Tampa, Florida on June 25, 2026. Credit: Thomas Hallock / Creative Loafing Tampa Bay

Julie and I take a quick drive around this sprawling park to watch the dusk fall on Tampa Bay. From this spit off South Tampa, one can practically reach across the water, touch Weedon Island. A power plant sits on top of mounds there, razed in the early 10th century; emerging archaeological research suggests Florida’s Weedon Island culture arranged their building to greet the solstice. I like thinking about how people have been tracing the sun’s path across Tampa Bay for a long, long time.

Cypress Point Park

“Watch planes land at TPA overhead,” my former student Maggie jokes; “double the sky show, double the fun.” Last time we spoke, Maggie, in her own radically devout way, was keeping the world safe for Pasco County. I’m not sure what she’s doing now, though she’s right about Cypress Point. Tucked between two causeways, some low-slung offices and the airport flight path, this in-between city park is surprisingly calm.

A twilight landscape photograph of Cypress Point Park beach in Tampa, Florida, featured in Creative Loafing Tampa Bay. In the foreground, tall sea grass is silhouetted against the calm water. On the left side of the white sand beach, two individuals stand near the water's edge, while another person sits on the sand further to the right. In the distance, a few swimmers wade in the water alongside a marker post, all set beneath a cloudy evening sky layered with cool blue, purple, and soft pink sunset hues at the horizon.Cypress Point Park in Tampa, Florida on June 30, 2026. Credit: Thomas Hallock / Creative Loafing Tampa Bay

People from all worlds congregate along the narrow beach. Toddlers with arm floaties test the gentle waves. Teenagers load up their Instagram feeds; families document a quinceañero. In one of the picnic shelters, fundamentalists share their stories. A breeze right before dark carries the whiff of weed. Guys cruise the beach, a loner gathers her thoughts. Who knows, I’m guessing—but the people watching is fantastic. Cypress Point would be my top pick. Except ….

Davis Islands Beaches

There is something about an urban shoreline that feels stolen. A buzz, like shoplifting. To get to Davis Islands Beach, plural “s”, Julie and I thread around the winding streets of a toney, alongside low-lying properties slung from 20th-century fill. Davis Island has the odd feel of dry land in the middle of a bay; 30-year flood maps remind you that Davis Island should not exist. The winding route to the island’s southern point takes us past Peter O. Knight Airport (a tiny strip I do not ever imagine using) and stops right before the yacht club gate. We park by some sea grapes, nicely landscaped to offer pocket beaches (used by folks unlikely to join a yacht club or fly out of Peter O. Knight Airport). Sand around the yacht basin is dirty, almost a sickly gray, and the picnic benches are covered in aluminum—sheathed to prevent graffiti? The reggaeton carries across the water, some guy in the back of his minivan broadcasts his conversatoin on a cellphone, and right before dark, a shirtless dude paddles a solo canoe to his sailboat in the mooring field. As the sun sinks over Bayshore, the harsh summer sky softens into pastels, and mellowed by water off the bay, darkens from a singed atomic tangerine, to burnt rust, to trade-offs between cerulean gray and violet-brown.

And there you have it. A picture perfect sunset. Maybe not the beach bar showstopper in Pinellas. Not the Instagram-worthy, purpling horizon over a deepening blue Gulf. But Tampa sunsets hold history and figures. The natural and built environment intersect like sculpture, as one hopes they would in port, as living tributes to a vibrant and recovering industrial city.

When Thomas Hallock is not writing the occasional #Creekshed column for Creative Loafing, he is teaching English at the University of South Florida, mostly on the St. Petersburg campus. Tom writes much more about the sun rising in “Happy Neighborhood, essays and poems”; you’d be doing him a solid if you picked up a copy.

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