Life's a beach, babe.

Every turn of the tire across that six dollar toll bridge gets us one step closer to beachfront bliss. The blue water sparkles seductively. We see our cares in the rearview mirror, stranded on the mainland.

Sanibel welcomes us to a seaside state of mind…where the only agenda item is collecting shells on the golden shore, a glorious place to kill time till cocktail hour and dinner.

The winding drive along the main road curves under blazing royal Poinciana trees, past heavy-hanging coconut palms that look like they’ve been growing there forever. The landscape gives way to native tangles of mangrove, wax myrtle and other scrub until we reach Castaways at last, just before the road jumps over to Captiva.

Castaways…Perfect name for a perfect getaway. Our petite apartment looks across a crunchy, crushed shell “patio” toward the swimming pool.

Dredging, with its mile-long black tube snaking across the sand, parallel to the water, is a necessary but ugly activity. The tinkling sound of sea treasures tumbling and whooshing through the flume is magical, though. At its end, the mother lode of shells spews out in a mud-smelling rush at the feet of our small crowd. Buckets fill with Florida fighting conch, calico scallops, whelks, banded tulips, olive shells and more. A rare Junonia, chocolate chip spirals around a vanilla swirl, sits perched on top of one woman’s overflowing pail. I can tell that the thought of distracting her and snatching it has crossed the minds of several onlookers.

Later, we wander toward Castaway’s inland marina, to the dockside duplex inhabited by our extended family. Mojitos mixing in the kitchenette, happy catch-up conversation filling the room…until we amble, amoeba-like, the thirteen of us, to the Lazy Flamingo next door.

Packed restaurant, a bit of a wait—all the more remarkable as it is run by TWO people. And efficiently so. The bartender/waitress/hostess commands her post at the U-shaped bar, taking orders and zinging them on a wire back into the kitchen where her partner cooks up fresh seafood. A ring toss game and cold beer distract hunger-induced impatience. When you’re on Island Time, amusement comes easy.

Next day: Bailey-Matthews Shell Museum—where the educational video taught us way more about the cut-throat, albeit slow-moving, world of the mollusk than we ever dreamed possible.

Tasty buffalo shrimp and sweet mojitos are downed at

Doc Ford’s Rum Bar & Grille, operated by Randy Wayne

White, perhaps better-known for his literary pursuits.

Before we know it, it’s time to head back to civilization…

Castaways no more.

Up Next: Spirited Adventure in Cassadaga