Beach Psychology and You

How many times have you planted your jaunty yellow umbrella in the sand and surrendered yourself to the decadent pleasures of a day at the beach, only to find your plan brutally foiled? Perhaps you were busy relishing the prospect of a peaceful day by the sea when a boisterous family of 25 spread its blanket next to yours. Before your sunblock had even begun to penetrate, they kicked sand in your drink and cranked their portable karaoke machine within inches of your eardrums. Suddenly, you found yourself condemned to an eternity—or what felt like one, at any rate—in a Disco Inferno.

Perhaps I’ve got it all wrong. You go to the beach expressly for the disco beat, glimpses of European men in Speedos and flying Nerf balls: to wit, the endlessly entertaining carnival of humanity. In that case, perhaps your beach party was spoiled by a total lack of guests. Your extroverted self may have stumbled onto a particularly desolate stretch of sand and wilted there, with only the occasional sandpiper for company.

The adage "wherever you go, there you are" may never hold more true than at the beach, where the wind, sun, sand and water all act as mood accelerators. Whether the elements push you closer to despair or ecstasy may depend entirely on how your own distinctive personality combines with any of Southwest Florida’s numerous beaches. Your day in the sun might either be doomed or restorative, a Wes Craven flick or a Winslow Homer painting.

Beach pamphleteers have long made use of the rhetoric of personality. As the free chamber of commerce publication The Islands of Sanibel and Captiva proclaims, "The beaches of Sanibel and Captiva have personalities as distinct as the folks who frequent them." Writer Libby Boren McMillan has suggestions for the "I Came for Photographs" camp, the "We Have Small Children with Us" set, and the "We’re in an RV" contingent. (She praises the photogenic qualities of nearly every beach; recommends the restrooms at Bowman’s Beach, Gulfside City Park, Lighthouse Beach and Tarpon Bay Beach for families; and steers those in campers towards the special parking at Tarpon Bay and Bowman’s.)

But what if your personality traits run considerably deeper than your camera, offspring and mode of transport would suggest? For that matter, let’s say that you aren’t limited to Sanibel and Captiva, but may choose any beach from the northernmost reaches of Gasparilla Island clear down to South Marco Beach, to suit your true self. Where should someone just like you turn to satisfy your beachgoing needs?

First, we urge you to take stock of your own personality traits as precisely as you would evaluate the expiration date of your sunblock before trusting it to shield you from damaging rays.

Luckily, people have been delving into the nature of personality differences for millennia. The toga was still all the rage when Hippocrates linked bodily fluids such as blood and bile to character traits and temperament. (Hard to imagine how a theory this appetizing fell out of favor, isn’t it?) From the ancient Greeks to the present day, many thinkers have proffered fascinating explanations for why some of us gravitate towards clambakes and beach bonfires while others run for the shelter of a private cove. Sigmund "Sex and Death" Freud launched a wave of 20th century investigations into human personality, and his protégé, Carl Jung, got us all thinking about introversion versus extroversion. All of their research and writing can’t have left much time for beach volleyball! A mother-daughter duo by the name of Katherine Briggs and Isabel Briggs Myers devised a test called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). As any self-respecting human resources director would tell you, the MBTI measures your preferences for extroversion vs. introversion (E or I), intuition or sensing (N or S), thinking or feeling (T or F), and perceiving versus judging (P or J). When I was 18, I took the MBTI in a large career workshop at Bryn Mawr, and was annoyed to see that my type (ENFP) matched me with the only person in the room I actively disliked. Shakespeare could have had a field day with the Myers-Briggs.

Finally, you can toss Helen Palmer’s witchy-looking Enneagram into the mix and have one rocking beach personality party in the making. Her theory of nine basic personality types makes for some strange bedfellows: Her list of famous perfectionist types includes Emily Post, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Jerry Falwell. Who knows if these three have ever been mentioned in the same sentence before?

If you have some idea where your personality falls between introversion and extroversion, Emily Post and Jerry Falwell, go ahead and fill your cooler with drinks and your heart with gladness. It’s time to hit the beach.

North Captiva Beach—the melancholic’s haven. If sunbathing alone with a sandpiper sounded awfully good to your ancient, romantic soul, then you should arrange for transportation to North Captiva. Because it can only be reached by boat or small plane, it’s harder to get to and thus sparsely populated terrain. Greta Garbo wannabees who "vant to be alone" have a real shot at solitude on North Captiva, and beyond it, on Cayo Costa, Cabbage Key and Useppa Island. For that matter, Gasparilla Island hardly seems like a booming megalopolis.

Captiva Beach—a supine could do worse. First of all, you’re not far from Captiva’s Chapel by the Sea, in case you share the supine’s Christian heritage and the scenery fills you with a sense of grace. Captiva Beach has recently planted foliage that resembles hair transplants, and offers only a small parking lot overlooking a dingy apartment complex, but we found Good Samaritans aplenty who helped us back out of our tight spot without incident. If you want to spend your beachgoing time with compassionate people, we’ve spotted this type at Captiva Beach.

The Beach at the Mucky Duck—for insiders only, if you please. At the end of Andy Rosse Lane, you’ll find the Captiva beach profiled by The New York Times, but you won’t find any public parking. For those with pockets deep enough to support a meal at the Mucky Duck or the Key Lime Bistro, or a shopping excursion to Sanderilla’s Girlee Girlz, where a white Lilly Pulitzer sundress was recently marked down to $228, the picturesque beach features boat rentals and happy families at play.

Turner Beach—built for Geminis. Carl Jung once shocked his fellow scholars by indulging in astrology, finding much to recommend its ancient wisdom. If it’s good enough for Carl, it’s good enough for us. For those whose brains thrive on the duality ascribed to the sign of the Twins, Turner Beach straddles the islands of Sanibel and Captiva across Blind Pass. It has twin beaches, twin parking lots, first and second tier parking spots (residents vs. public), and a fishing jetty that clearly divides the territory to the north and south. The Captiva side offers glorious vistas, while the Sanibel side is within walking distance of shops.

Bowman’s Beach—perfect for the classic Freudian neurotic. First, there are enough parking spots to accommodate all of Woody Allen’s fans and foes alike, so you don’t need to brace yourself for any ugly traffic confrontations. Next, facilities abound in case you’ve misjudged the quality of the mayonnaise in your picnic lunch. You can’t see civilization from Bowman’s Beach, so you won’t be reminded of all the work you should be doing. In case you require some sort of obsessive-compulsive occupation, Bowman’s has miles of excellent seashells to collect. Finally, if you’ve gotten yourself a dog to bring down your blood pressure, you can bring him with you. On a quiet weekday afternoon, I counted two standard poodles, a Labrador and a German shepherd, all deliriously happy to be included in the festivities. If my reporting seems especially detailed here, that’s no coincidence.

Lighthouse Park Beach—an ESTJ’s paradise. According to Gifts Differing, card-carrying members of the "Extraverted Thinking Supported by Sensing" union possess a "natural bent for business and industry, production and construction." Lighthouse Park Beach bustles with hikers, shellers, fisherman and lighthouse afficionados. With clearly posted rules, views of the Sanibel Causeway, Fort Myers, San Carlos Bay and the Gulf of Mexico, and crowds of people engaged in the famous "Sanibel Stoop" as they collect some of Sanibel’s best shells, a workaholic would feel very much at home here, while taking in the natural beauty to be found as a bonus.

Sanibel Causeway Beaches—the refuge of the Type A. The terminally impatient can find immediate gratification by driving right up to the beach, famous for its excellent fishing. While the causeway is undergoing construction, its beaches aren’t long on aesthetics, but if you only have 30 minutes of beaching in you, and don’t want to spend 25 of them lugging your chair from the car to the water, the causeway is tailor-made for you. You’ll enjoy the exceptionally pleasant causeway breezes, too. On the Sanibel Causeway beaches, even the wind is eager to get around.

Fort Myers Beach—ISFPs are known to be particularly kind-hearted and easygoing folk. No beach needs a healthy population of ISFPs milling around more than Fort Myers Beach, where college students, families and retirees converge to eat, drink, swim and play. This is a particularly good beach for people-watching, especially if the ISFPs are scarce and the spirits are flowing.

Barefoot Beach Preserve—If you’re an ISFJ, you’re quite strict with yourself about finishing all work before you luxuriate in some good old-fashioned R & R. This beach exists as your reward, especially if the work you were doing was for the Conservancy or the Sierra Club, and you’re a bona fide nature lover. You’ll drive through Pleasantville to get there, and will find excellent facilities, miles of pristine, powdery sand, nature trails and many other delights that will make days of diligence evaporate from view.

Clam Pass County Park—for the perfectionist. Those whose beach fantasies look like a J Crew photo shoot will enjoy hopping a tram from the car to the beach. The beach is glorious and equipped with a café to satisfy your hunger/thirst. The tram will bring you back to the Naples Grande Resort and its Aura Restaurant & Bar, an ideal place to end a day with a cold, fruity drink and top-notch appetizers. If all of this doesn’t satisfy your taste for perfection, nothing will.

Naples Municipal Pier and Beach—for the consummate Neapolitan. If you want to fish and trade banter with a wide variety of local personalities, or just need to know that you’re never more than 10 minutes from Fifth Avenue, this is the place for you. Wander out at sunset with a gelato in one hand and your lover’s hand in the other and enjoy the festive air of a Naples tradition.

Port Royal Beach—for the tragic romantic. According to Helen Palmer, you are "attracted to the unavailable; ideal is never here and now." If you have enough sense of self to remain undaunted by the "Invitation Only" atmosphere of the chichi homes of Port Royal, you will find metered spots open to the public. Anyone can visit this beach and gaze at the multi-million-dollar homes that adorn it, as well as the beautiful sailing yachts drifting on the horizon, but the messages of exclusivity are not just metaphorical in Port Royal: A large sign on the playground warns that "residents only" may use the swings. The beach is small, with some good shade, and the remnants of seaswept docks of yesteryear. There are worse places to indulge your tragic romantic leanings.

South Marco Beach—for the cosmopolitan. If you are cheered by the sight of hotels and high-rises, and like to imagine yourself on the Riviera, you’ll enjoy this tiny white stretch of beach despite the looming hotels and apartment houses and a total lack of public facilities. It’s a long walk to the water from the public parking lot, and there are no cafés or supermodels. In fact, frequent guests of Miami’s South Beach would take one look at the long list of prohibitions that actually includes separate symbols for mixed drinks, wines and beer, and hop back in the Ferrari. But the clear blue water impresses Fort Myers resident Leslie Hinton, 32, whose usual stomping grounds include Fort Myers Beach. "They have better water here for sure," she says.

Tigertail Beach—for the ENFP. If you like to get a group pumped up for new activities and have a knack for infecting people with enthusiasm, you might be an ENFP … like me. You will be cheered by everything from the parking attendant’s warmth, to the availability of spots, to the facilities, playground, ranger programs like "Mollusk Madness," and boat rentals, but there is a big caveat at Tigertail. In fact, my neurotic, Type A tendencies would only make this a good choice for me if I went with a friend armed with a quiver of tranquilizer darts. To get to the wide sands and open water of the Gulf beach, you have to wade through what 15-year-old Marco resident Halley K. (who only frequents South Beach) calls a "mucky and muddy" body of shallow water. Yet several families were splashing across with coolers when we visited. They were probably rewarded for making the crossing with a first-rate beach-going experience, but I cannot say for sure. I was already on the causeway heading home.