Before you arrive at the Citrus Tower, do yourself a favor and stop for lunch. Just a few miles away is Clermont Fish House, a British-themed restaurant that serves some of the best fish and chips in Central Florida. Even before we walked through the door, I appreciated the Little Free Library tucked inside a classic British phone booth.

We were seated immediately, and within minutes our waitress, Tina, brought our refreshing non-alcoholic drinks. While Clermont Fish House is famous for its fish and chips, the fun is that you can choose from several different types of fish. I ordered the traditional cod, while Bob went with mahi-mahi, a Florida favorite.

When Tina placed my plate on the table, I was stunned by the size of the fish. I honestly can’t remember the last time I was served such a generous portion. Better yet, it was delicious—easily the best fish and chips I’ve eaten in the past decade. The atmosphere was casual, welcoming, and family-friendly. If you’re visiting Clermont, make this restaurant one of your stops. And don’t leave without snapping a selfie beside the Harry Potter mural near the second British phone booth inside the restaurant.

Back to the Citrus Tower

In the 1950s, President Dwight D. Eisenhower dramatically expanded America’s interstate highway system, making it easier than ever for families to drive to Florida. The Sunshine State’s warm winters, endless sunshine, and famous oranges drew visitors from across the country.

Long road trips, however, could become monotonous, so roadside attractions began appearing along major highways, giving travelers a reason to stretch their legs before continuing their journey. Clermont, located about thirty miles west of Orlando along U.S. Highway 27, became one of those welcome stopping points.

Before Disney transformed Central Florida into a global vacation destination, most visitors were simply passing through on their way to the state’s beaches. The Citrus Tower was designed to capture those travelers, inviting them to spend an hour relaxing before getting back on the road.

When it opened in 1956, the Citrus Tower was the tallest observation tower in Florida. Nearly seventy years later, it still holds that distinction. More than just an observation deck, it was designed as a place where weary motorists could shake off the dust of the road, catch their breath, and admire Florida’s greatest agricultural treasure: its endless citrus groves.

The tower itself was conceived as a monument to Florida’s orange industry. A statue simply wouldn’t have conveyed the scale or importance of citrus to the state’s economy. Instead, developers built a soaring landmark that allowed visitors to gaze across miles of orange trees stretching to the horizon.

Unfortunately, Florida’s citrus empire wouldn’t last forever.

Several events converged over the following decades, starting with a series of devastating freezes that killed thousands of orange trees. Then citrus greening disease swept through the groves, crippling production. At the same time, international competition from countries such as Mexico reduced Florida’s dominance in the citrus market.

Many growers gave up and sold their land.

Then came the biggest change of all.

Walt Disney purchased thousands of acres of former orange groves to build Walt Disney World. As millions of tourists poured into Orlando, they no longer wandered Florida’s back roads in search of quirky roadside attractions. Places like the Citrus Tower slowly faded into obscurity, surviving decades of declining attendance and even facing the threat of demolition.

In 2020, the Citrus Tower changed ownership just as the COVID-19 pandemic shut down much of the tourism industry. Rather than viewing the closure as a setback, the new owners used the time to renovate and modernize the property. The refreshed attraction reopened in 2023, preserving an important piece of Florida’s roadside history while giving it new life.

Visiting the Tower

The first-floor houses Citrus Coffee, a gift shop, and an inviting piano waiting for someone to play it. Citrus Coffee was doing brisk business during our visit, while the piano sat quietly in the corner.

I’m a fan of chai lattes, so that was my choice. Bob ordered the Orange Cream Latte, which reminded us both of coffee with a hint of Grand Marnier. It was surprisingly good.

Admission tickets to the observation deck are also sold at the coffee counter. Your ticket is valid all day, and outside food is welcome, so we carried our coffees into the elevator for the ride to the top.

The elevator surprised me. It has only two buttons, making it seem as though this would be a very short tower.

Not at all.

The Citrus Tower stands twenty-two stories tall. Pressing the button for the second floor sends the elevator straight to the observation deck in less than a minute.

Once upstairs, take your time walking around the entire perimeter. Each side offers a different perspective of Clermont, and I especially appreciated the interpretive displays mounted on the structural beams. They explain what visitors would have seen from each direction when the tower opened in 1956.

One panel notes that more than 17 million citrus trees once grew within sight of the tower. Looking out today, it’s almost impossible to imagine.

Instead of feeling inspired by the panoramic view, I found myself feeling a bit melancholy.

Hundreds of acres of orange groves plowed under and paved over.  What happened to all of the birds that used to make that area their home and hunting grounds?  What about the squirrels, raccoons, opossums and other small furry mammals that made a life there?  Add in the insects and bees, and that’s a lot of nature’s life disposed of.  In the place of a thriving ecosystem, sterile housing developments arose.  The endless orange groves have largely been replaced by subdivisions, shopping centers, and paved roads. I’m not opposed to development, but seeing the scale of the transformation from above made the loss feel tangible.

One More Stop

After leaving the Citrus Tower, we stopped at Sud’s Saloon, located just down the road from Clermont Fish House.

I knew this wasn’t going to be an ordinary Florida bar when I spotted a sign advertising Wisconsin cheese and sausage.

Inside, we ordered horseradish cheddar and a sleeve of Saltine crackers to snack on while enjoying a couple of beers. If you visit, try the Top Hat Amber from Crooked Can Brewing Company. It’s a clean, easy-drinking amber ale that pairs perfectly with Wisconsin cheese.

We chatted with the bartender, who also owns the bar, and asked why Wisconsin memorabilia covered nearly every wall. He explained that he, his wife, and his brother-in-law, all of whom work there, are originally from Wisconsin.

I’ve lived in Florida for nearly fifteen years, and this is the only Wisconsin-themed bar I’ve ever encountered. Finding one in Clermont, a small/medium city of roughly 53,000 residents, made the discovery all the more unexpected.

Final Thoughts

Would I recommend this adventure?

Yes…and no.

The Citrus Tower itself left me feeling more reflective than inspired. Its history is fascinating, but the view is also a reminder of how dramatically Central Florida has changed.

The real highlights of the day were Clermont Fish House and Sud’s Saloon. Add in a stroll through Clermont’s charming downtown, and you’ve got the makings of a wonderful afternoon.

If you do stop at the Citrus Tower, I’d suggest skipping the observation deck and saving the admission fee. Instead, settle into Citrus Coffee with a good drink, soak in a bit of old Florida nostalgia, and let the tower tell its story from the ground.

Adventure rating: 1 out of 10
Crowd level: quiet
Worth the drive: no
Hidden gem score: 8 out of 10. This rating is based on fond memories of the Tower from folks we chatted up at Sud’s Saloon. Local people love the tower.
Family friendly: yes
Time needed: 30-45 minutes

Tips before you go: you’re allowed to bring outside food and drink up to the observation deck, and your ticket allows all-day access. If you forgot your coffee, Citrus Coffee Shop is located on the first floor.