Isle off the coast of Florida has a charm all of its own
Written by: Anne Gordon
Publicized in:
therecord.com
Publication Date: March 27, 2007
Ranking high on the Conde Nast Traveler list of the top 10 North American
islands, Sanibel Island with its coconut palms and famous shell beaches, exudes
the same magic as a Caribbean hideaway.
With old-world charm, and a conservation focus, this laid-back barrier island
paradise is the antithesis of present-day tourist Florida. Boaters slow down
giving right-of-way to dolphins and manatees. Signs on the roadside warn of
panthers, raccoons and gopher tortoises crossing.
Stiff fines are wielded if anyone sneaks a live shell into a booty bag and
shellers, when out collecting along the water's edge, are advised to do the
'Sanibel Shuffle' (dragging one's feet), in order to nudge rather than step on
submerged sting rays.
With easy access across a causeway from the mainland of Florida, Sanibel is
devoid of traffic lights and flashing neon signs. High rise buildings are
against the law. The Victorian lighthouse is about as high as it gets.
Because of the tall building regulation, holiday resorts are limited to four
storeys and they are set in luxuriant tropical gardens of palm trees,
bougainvillea, bromelliads, orchids and trailing cactus.
Most of Sanibel's holiday resorts look onto the 1.5 million square kilometre
Gulf of Mexico.
The shoreline is gently sloping and relatively shallow, but there are deep,
dark chasms in the Gulf that plunge to a sea bed 4,384 metres below the
surface.
The gulf's fish-rich waters with an abundance of snook, trout, grouper,
sheepshead, shark, pompano and tarpon have for centuries provided a bonanza for
Floridian anglers.
A while back a diver emerged from the gulf with a treasure. Nestled inside a
conch shell was a 40.2 carat emerald that had probably drifted to the sea bed
400 or so years before.
In 1622 a Spanish galleon - the Santa Margarita - sank in the gulf along with
two other galleons during a hurricane. The Spanish fleet was sailing from Cuba
to Spain with a cargo of gold and silver, emeralds and pearls.
About 20 years prior to the first discovery, an even larger emerald emerged
from its watery resting place.
Weighing 77.7 carats, this stone was later valued at $1.2 million, a clear
indication that there could still be treasure awaiting discovery on the sea bed
in the Gulf of Mexico.
Some of the finest shelling in the world is to be had on the shores of
Sanibel and its out islands.
Twenty-four kilometres of shell-strewn beaches are a sure thing for coaxing
shellers to emulate the 'Sanibel Stoop,' where the majority of beach walkers are
bent double in their quest for conches, banded tulips, coquina shells, lightning
whelks, scallops and even baby's ears, a smoothly beautiful white shell with an
uncanny resemblance to its namesake.
On an early morning boat tour to the out islands for a day of shelling with
Mike Fuery, the island's only shelling captain, I marvelled at the perfect
judgment of an osprey that captured a fish, then rose heavily from the sea to
fly directly across our path. With its wickedly sharp talons locked on to too
weighty a catch, the osprey would be unable to rise and could drown.
Avid shellers are usually up and on the beach before first light and I was
one of them.
Rising at 6 a.m. with only the beam from my skinny torch to light my way to
the beach, I enjoyed an unforgettable hour combing the waterline and watching a
sunrise that splashed the sky with deep pink then yellow and gold.
Close to the water I found starfish, a rosy mollusk emerging from a horse
conch and another from a large lightning whelk.
Live clams, beautifully patterned scallops, fighting conches and a dense
layer of more common seashells littered the beach.
As the sun rose higher, seabirds, constantly on the lookout for tasty
mollusks, arrived in the hundreds for breakfast.
The wide variety of mollusks can resemble anything from a miniature elephant
with a waving trunk, to an opaque, soft-bodied sea creature nestled in a scallop
shell edged with dozens of 'eyes.' The slightest hint of a shadow in the
vicinity of the scallop activates the closing of the shell.
There are transparent snail-like mollusks with eyes on the end of stalks, and
others with a thick worm-like foot that propels the mollusk forward. Scallops at
times appear demented as they do an erratic dance across the sand under the
water.
Between May and October, the beach directly in front of the Island Inn where
I spent my time, is a favoured turtle nesting site.
Ellen Papay, a breakfast companion, told me of a young family on vacation at
the hotel who spent four hours on a dark night watching a turtle give birth.
Later that day a pod of dolphins close to the shore entertained us with their
own version of a water dance. The island's 'Ding' Darling National Wildlife
Refuge -- named for Jay Norwood Darling, a dedicated environmentalist -- is a
paradise for birders and walkers.
Some 200 species of birds find haven in this sanctuary and an equal number of
fish species spend their early lives maturing among the protective roots of the
refuge's mangrove forest.
They call this dense growth of black and red Mangroves, 'the nursery of the
seas.'
One steamy afternoon we ambled along Wildlife Drive through the refuge,
branching off to explore the Indigo Trail and the Shell Mound Trail. Feeding in
the shallow waters along the edge of mangrove clusters, gloriously pink Roseate
spoon bills tip-toed about on spindly legs.
Pelicans and western sandpipers preened sunbathed on sand banks in the middle
of a lake. No more than six feet from us a tri-coloured heron, a yellow-crowned
night-heron and a little blue heron sunned themselves on a branch.
A few steps away I became so engrossed with photographing an anhinga, I
failed to notice that I was standing in the middle of a fire ant's nest.
Within seconds, the minute ants were swarming over my feet and up my trouser
legs . . . bringing painful results.
Alligators and a lone crocodile are also resident here. Andy Sares, our guide
on a tram tour, told us that the crocodile had earlier been relocated to the
Everglades. The curmudgeonly old reptile, asserting his preference for life at
the 'Ding' Darling Wildlife Refuge, set out from the Everglades and completed
the 120-kilometre trek back to his home on the island.
Like the crocodile, I found Sanibel Island's serenity and tropical ambience
irresistible. Like the crocodile, I, too, will be back.
Anne Gordon is a Guelph-based freelance travel writer and
photographer.
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