Sanibel

Beach life is what the island is for. Almost the whole Gulf-facing shore is sand, sloping gently into calm, shallow water with little surf, and the shelling is famous: after winter storms and at low tide, people walk the tideline bent double looking for whelks, cockles and the rare junonia. Bowman's Beach on the quieter western side is the longest and least built-up. Lighthouse Beach at the eastern tip has bay and Gulf on either side, and Blind Pass and the beaches of neighbouring Captiva are known for sunsets.

The sea is warmest from May to October, when it reaches about 30°C. In the main winter season it falls to around 20°C, which is refreshing rather than tropical. The water is clear enough but greener than Caribbean blue. In some years red tide reaches the coast and can close beaches for a while.

Eating out here means relaxed island seafood: grouper sandwiches, stone crab claws in season, shrimp and fried fish, often at breakfast spots and casual places with porches along Periwinkle Way and on Captiva. It is pleasant and unhurried, but the range is narrow and many menus are much alike. Visitors who want more variety or serious cooking drive over the causeway to Fort Myers or down to Naples.

The sights are small and closely tied to the island. The Bailey-Matthews National Shell Museum is the only museum of its kind in the country and suits the place well. The iron-frame Sanibel Lighthouse from 1884 stands at the eastern point, and the Sanibel Historical Museum and Village gathers old cottages, a schoolhouse and a post office from the pioneer days. That is most of what there is. A visitor looking for history or architecture will have seen it in a morning.

Evenings centre on watching the sunset and then going to dinner, and the island is quiet well before midnight. A few restaurant bars, mostly on Captiva, have a cheerful crowd and a guitarist on winter nights, and that is the extent of it. For anything later you have to drive to Fort Myers Beach or downtown Fort Myers.

Here nature means wildlife rather than landscape. The J.N. 'Ding' Darling National Wildlife Refuge protects the mangroves along the island's bay side. Its Wildlife Drive and short trails give close views of roseate spoonbills, white pelicans, ibises, herons and alligators, best at low tide on winter mornings, when migrating birds crowd the mudflats. Tarpon Bay and Commodore Creek have mangrove tunnels for kayaking and paddleboarding. Dolphins are often seen there, and manatees now and then.

The rest is gentle. Flat cycling paths, fishing for tarpon and snook in the passes, and boat trips into Pine Island Sound. The land is completely flat, with no hills, cliffs or wild interior, and the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary's old cypress boardwalk, about an hour inland, is the main outing beyond the island. From June to September, heat, humidity and afternoon thunderstorms push outdoor time into the early morning.

Captiva, across a short bridge, is the first outing, with its small village and sunset beaches. Across the causeway, Fort Myers has the Edison and Ford Winter Estates, the riverside homes and laboratory of the two inventors, and its old downtown. Naples, about an hour south, has a polished old town, a pier and galleries, and the Koreshan settlement at Estero is a curious stop on the way.

The best outings go by boat from Captiva or Pine Island Sound: to Cabbage Key and its old inn, to the undeveloped beaches of Cayo Costa, or to the old fishing town of Boca Grande. Sarasota is at the edge of a long day. Taken together, the outings are pleasant rather than remarkable.

The island suits families who want a simple, slow beach vacation. The Gulf is shallow and gentle, and shelling keeps children busy for hours. The flat bike paths are safe for young riders, and spotting alligators and spoonbills in the refuge or dolphins from a kayak makes a good half day. The shell museum has touch tanks and is aimed at curious children, and rented cottages and condos give room to spread out.

There is nothing built just for entertainment, though: no theme park, aquarium or arcade strip. Older children and teenagers may get restless after a few days. Summer heat and afternoon storms also need some planning.

Most visitors fly into Fort Myers and drive across the causeway, and a car is close to essential for reaching the island and leaving it, since there is no public transport worth relying on. Once you are here, the island is small and completely flat. The shared-use paths make cycling the most pleasant way to get between beaches, the refuge and the shops. In the winter high season, traffic backs up along Periwinkle Way and at the causeway, and beach car parks fill early.

Shopping is low-key and keeps to the island's theme. Small plazas along Periwinkle Way and in Captiva village hold shell shops, beachwear and resort-clothing boutiques, and galleries selling coastal paintings, photography and jewellery. It makes for a pleasant hour browsing on a rainy afternoon. For anything more, visitors use the outlet centres and malls on the mainland.

This is an expensive place to stay, especially from January to April, when beach cottages and condos book far ahead at high-season rates. Height limits and limited land keep supply small, and there are no budget hotels on the island. Eating out costs resort prices, and a car is all but required. Staying in a rental with a kitchen, or on the mainland in Fort Myers, keeps costs down, and the beaches and bike paths themselves cost little.

The island has a small community arts scene, with chamber concerts, talks and amateur and touring theatre during the winter season, and acoustic musicians play in a few restaurants. It is modest and closely tied to the season. For touring Broadway shows and larger concerts, visitors drive to the performing arts hall in Fort Myers.

The island is restful by nature. There are no high-rises, the roads are slow and the evenings are quiet, and days follow the tides and the sunset. The larger resorts on Sanibel and Captiva have full-service spas, and there are some independent massage and yoga studios. There is no bathing culture, thermal spring or retreat tradition, though. The relaxation comes from the pace of the place rather than from anything built for wellness.