[4 p.m.] As a fan of surfing, I’ve been waiting and waiting to see the first decent-sized swells from Wilma reach Florida’s southwest coast. Finally, on this way-off-the-beaten path near Captiva, the waves came. OK, they weren’t exactly the kind you find at Hawaii’s Pipeline. But when it comes to surf on the Gulf of Mexico, beggars can’t be choosers.

Despite the waves being just three to four feet, a crowd of a dozen or so surfers turned up here to take advantage of this rare opportunity. I half expected to see my hardcore surfing sister, Nancy, here shredding these waves. When we were kids in St. Pete, she would drive her Volkswagen Beetle ANYWHERE in Florida with less than 10 bucks for gas to get waves. Which is why she moved to St. Augustine. Upon further inspection, there was no sign of my sister but the sight of surfers always brings back good memories. Some people think they’re crazy to go out in the surf before a hurricane, but I understand their love of the sport—and their desparate desire for waves.

Meanwhile on the beach, tourists seemed oblivious to the surfers. They were more interested in the shells. And I have to admit that down here, you see the kind of shells you never see on Pinellas beaches or the East Coast of Florida. There are some amazing ones here, the kind you pay money for in a tourist shop on Corey Avenue in St. Pete.

[4:30 p.m.] Speaking of shell collectors, I met a 68-year-old one named John Malley. He’s from Simsbury, Connecticut, and came down here with his wife yesterday despite knowing full well there was a huge hurricane possibly headed this way. They come every year to Marco Island but since that spot has been evacuated, they went to stay in Fort Myers. If they have to leave their hotel there, Malley says they will go to a shelter. He, however, believes in what the experts at the National Weather Services in Miami are prediction might happen: Wilma’s slow progress could send it well south of its projected path, possibly across the Everglades.

[5 p.m.] I can’t get over the number of Brits here. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear I was in Picadilly Circus in London. Well, a Picadilly Circus with bugs and humidity. You have to admire the English attitude. They know a storm could pummel their vacation destination. But until someone tells them they have to leave, they’re going to have a good time. I came across another British family cycling down all these miles of paved bike trails alongside the road here in Captiva and Sanibel. They were on rentals and essentially in the middle of nowhere. But there they were, pedaling away, laughing and looking like there was no looming danger.