By T. Bennison

“The Sanibel Stoop.” It’s a cheesy term for the postures tourists assume while beachcombing along this shell-rich island on Florida’s West Coast. Whenever we hear it, we chuckle to ourselves, in much the same way we laugh at people out on the dance floor. But you always stop laughing once you’re pulled out there by your girlfriend and find yourself wiggling around like a fecking idiot.

I laughed too, the first time I went. It was spring, and Sanibel Island was teeming with pasty tourists. I watched with an air of superiority as they bent down to sift through the sand and strode past them hurriedly, eyes fixed firmly ahead. Like lowing cows they doddered along the shore oblivious to the azure water and the brilliant sun licking the horizon. They didn’t see the spoonbills wheeling over the shuddering pines or the ivory clouds scudding eastward. Their tiny minds were too busy plunking conchs, cat’s paws, and cowries into plastic Publix bags. What is it about humans that makes them want to take something so fragile and beautiful and store it away selfishly on a moldy windowsill? I can appreciate a nice shell as much as the next guy, but this greedy hoarding was getting on my nerves.

Whatever I had planned that weekend, shell hunting was not on the list. I’ve always had a contrary, rebellious nature and pride myself with usually doing the exact opposite of what’s expected of me. Which is probably why I cleared my throat and looked over my shoulder before crouching down to grab a particularly fine example of Cancellaria reticulata, commonly known as the “Nutmeg” shell. In fact, it was so fine that I slipped it surreptitiously into my pocket. I had to have it. It was only one, after all.

Well, you know the rest. I got home loaded down with pounds of the buggers and fell asleep with the thought that I’d accomplished something great that day, having saved scores of briny exoskeltons from the hands of Minnesotan philistines.

I’m joking, of course. I really don’t know a bearded periwinkle from a wentletrap and wince uncomfortably at the mention of a maculated baby’s ear, but there’s no denying that Sanibel’s shelling opportunities exert a very powerful pull.

Sanibel’s east-west orientation makes it one of the most unique barrier islands of the world, and the gulf tides which lap its beaches deposit over 160 varieties of shells. Especially after a good wintertime storm, shells wash up in the millions and a casually scooped handful will yield specimens you’ve never seen before.

Located 25 miles southwest of Fort Myers on the Gulf Coast, Sanibel and northern neighbor Captiva are thought to have been one island 6,000 years ago, formed from sediment roiled up by massive storms. Originally inhabited by the Calusa Indians (whose shell mounds can still be seen), Sanibel’s “discovery” is attributed to Juan Ponce de Leon, who in 1513 named the land “Santa Isabella,” after the Spanish queen. Foiled by constant hostilities with the Calusa, de Leon was unable to secure a foothold on the island, but by the 18th century, the natives had been wiped out by diseases brought by the Spaniards.

After the government made Sanibel a lighthouse reservation in 1870, the region’s settlement began in earnest and within 10 years, wealthy northern industrialists had built the Casa Ybel Resort, which drew the likes of Henry Ford, Thomas Edison, and Charles Lindbergh in search of warmth and relaxation. In fact, Lindbergh’s wife, Anne Morrow, surely influenced by the pristine environment, wrote her moving “Gift From the Sea” while staying on Captiva.

In 1935, Jay Norwood “Ding” Darling, a political cartoonist and avid conservationist, pushed for federal protection of Sanibel’s delicate ecosystem and succeeded when in 1945, some 6,300 acres of estuary became a National Wildlife Refuge. Home to over 300 species of birds and other wildlife, the “Ding” Darling Refuge boasts several canoe trails, observation platforms, and hiking and bike paths. Though Sanibel is still fairly undeveloped and untouched compared to other beachside Floridian towns, a few hours in the refuge offers a glimpse into the island’s primordial youth.

Still, Sanibel proper is paradisiacal with its long stretches of white sand beach, shady Australian pines, and crystalline waters. The only way to get there is via the Sanibel Causeway (Hwy. 867) and last-minute lodging is prohibitively expensive. Day trips are difficult as parking and public beach access is scarce, so well-planned weekend vacations informed by online rentals are your best bet.

The last time I visited, my wife and I rented a small fully-equipped cottage and brought groceries with us from the mainland. As it wasn’t right on the beach, but right across the main thoroughfare (and still well secluded), we probably cut our costs in half. The owners of the house were Sanibel natives and very hospitable, even throwing the use of their two bicycles into the bargain.

Sanibel is so small that apart from your main journey to and from the island, a car is pretty unecessary and actually more of an annoyance. Everything is reachable by bike, and though some stretches of the road are narrow and treacherous, you should definitely get your hands on one as soon as you arrive. There are a few over-priced corner markets selling essentials if you find yourself missing a few ingredients, but as I said, bringing in your own food would be a good call.

You should eat out at least once while you’re there, whether at one of the requisite burger joints or at places like Dolce Vita or the Great White Grill. Dolce Vita (1244 Periwinkle Way) serves excellent northern Italian food with seating available on a breezy front patio. The Great White Grill (2440 Palm Ridge Rd.) serves deliciously fresh salads, sandwiches, hand-tossed pizzas, and daily pasta specials. A trip to the famed Bubble Room over Blind Pass in quieter Captiva is a must for dessert, though the fanciful decor can be a bit stomach-turning.

If you’re into camping, nearby Cayo Costa State Park, Cabbage and Useppa Keys, and Pine Island east across the sound, are well worth the trip. All are reachable by boat from Sanibel and make it seem like a clogged metropolis by comparison.

Whatever you decide to do, Sanibel Island is the perfect destination for a short getaway and an authentic slice of laid-back Florida living. Oh, and there are some great shells round those parts too, I hear. Would you like to see my cockles?