Road Trip: End of the Trail
Shelling on Sanibel
The pickings were more than generous at low tide on Thursday, our first full day on the island because the winds pushed shell piles up on the Gulf side beach, clearly a buffet shelling day. While my girlfriend, our expert, searched strategically for the perfect ones (she's got 24 boxes stowed away at home), John and I collected like little kids shaking presents at Christmas, every shell was a potential target.
In the beginning, almost every shell was a treasure, until our expert judged its worthiness based on type, condition and rarity. After a few reviews and supplemental instruction, we were promoted to "Sheller Junior Class", feeling better about what we were looking for, pretty much; kind of like having the training wheels on your first bicycle taken off. It a thrill to go it alone, but you fall down, scrapping your knees now and then.
By Florida law, a shell can be collected only if the animal inside is dead or the shell is empty so the collecting process takes on the air of a mating ritual. It starts with bending over, looking into the sand or surf as you walk very slowly. Once a 'good one' is spied, step two is to pick it up to peruse it visually, then smell, taking in all its aroma. If the shell does not stink, it's empty, or if there's a stink, you've got a dead one and can go to step three. If you see a critter's foot, you have a live one and you must return it. If you make it to step three, pop the shell into your net collection bag and 'carry on' until either your bag is full or your back aches. Once back home, a good soaking in bleach water should kill the dead ones' stink, but you have to pull out 'remains' which can be a challenge. Still stinks? Bury it in the ground and let grubs clean it out. You be the judge of how much fun this can be.
On a visit to St. Petersburg, FO we found it smaller and more compact than its sister city, Tampa, across the causeway. Little Red Riding Hood would have found it "just right" and so did we. And, from what we hear, it's affordable (by northeast standards). The old city is rebuilding and regenerating itself, attracting people who understand that air conditioning solves summer heat problems. So, we put ourselves on the 18 month waiting list for a slip, had a brilliant lunch at Bell Brava, and a trolley tour before we headed back to Sanibel.
Life is good. I now know that my goal to grow old seeing water everyday, on a boat or not, is achievable. We are now back home, hoping it doesn't snow this weekend.