The sky and Times Square clock of Fort Myers Beach, Florida, glow with the setting sun.
The pier at Fort Myers Beach, Florida, stretches out from Times Square.
The pier at Fort Myers Beach, Florida, stretches out from Times Square.
An approaching storm darkens the sky of Fort Myers Beach, Florida.
Cloud-dotted blue skies give no hint of the approaching storm in Fort Myers Beach, Florida.
Following the tropical storm, water stands in the sand volleyball court and the area around it on Fort Myers Beach, Florida.
Flashes of light penetrated the slits in the blinds, illuminating the room for seconds at a time. Cracks of thunder rumbled shortly after.
The duration for which this lasted, we weren’t sure, as my husband and I were sleeping, or rather attempting to sleep, through the first storm of the Atlantic Hurricane Season while staying on the gulf side of Florida last weekend.
When the following morning arrived on Fort Myers Beach, there was no distinguishing the gulf waters from the sky, now just a single, muted, steel-gray blur. The horizon having disappeared.
While the lightning and thunder effectively rolled through the western portion of the peninsula, and the system was officially declared Tropical Storm Alex as it headed toward Miami, only rain remained for us. But it continued to fall throughout the day at different intensities. When it slacked off, a few people ventured out to stroll or to play in the waves.
Others were content to simply settle in at the edge of the rolling waves. That was us.
Having tracked the system on the radar and having heeded the safety recommendations of our host facility, we knew our area was out of danger. We each had donned ball caps to prevent the raindrops from hitting us in the face. Draped in beach towels, we set up a pair of chairs near the water’s edge.
We’d looked forward to this trip for months, two educators celebrating the conclusion of the school year with a trip to the beach. We sat, mostly in silence. Does it look like it’s clearing up, I wondered? I can almost distinguish the difference between where the sky meets the water, can’t I? As much as I tried, though, to will the passing of the rain, it remained.
But the longer it poured, the more accepting we became of it. My husband and I watched as the waves rolled in. Listened as they broke into random white-capped lines stretching out before us.
“Wouldn’t it be neat if we saw some dolphins?” I suggested.
“Right there,” my husband declared without hesitation, nodding to our left.
I focused my attention on where he indicated and spied, as if on cue, a lone black fin emerge from the surface and slowly disappear back under. Headed north, it reappeared a few more times.
Sun, sand and water. Those are the prevailing features that come to mind when one anticipates a trip to the beach. But so too should be the unpredictable, overwhelming aspects created by the forces of nature. And that includes rain. Even potential tropical storms.
My husband and I didn’t anticipate the inclement weather. But it did occur between two sunny days. Upon our arrival, the weather was ideal. Sunny with moderate temperatures. And after the storm completely passed, the sun inevitably shone, again.
What didn’t, and couldn’t, change throughout our stay was our appreciation for both.
(Note: Marjorie Appelman is an English, communications and journalism teacher at Mason County High School and co-founder of the travel blog, Tales from the Trip, which is on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. She can be reached at [email protected].)
