Sanibel Island begins with a causeway and ends without urgency. Once you cross the bridge from the mainland, the geometry of Florida changes. Lanes narrow. Speed drops. The island makes its expectations clear early.
This is a place shaped as much by restraint as by water. Development exists, but it is negotiated. Roads curve instead of cutting straight. Buildings sit back. The shoreline remains the dominant presence.
Sanibel doesn’t ask to be discovered. It expects to be lived with carefully, even if only for a day.
An Island That Chose Limits
Sanibel’s modern identity is inseparable from its early decisions. Long before growth pressure peaked along Florida’s Gulf Coast, the island adopted zoning rules that capped building height and density. Those limits did not stop change, but they slowed it and gave it a form…