Some Kind of Nirvana

Old Florida is synonymous with Sunshine State nostalgia. The phrase indicates a bygone era of small-town coastal living and simpler, less crowded times. Today, the Emerald Coast is a hot spot for tourism—our beaches are bustling, and our economy is lively. But some locals recall a time when infrastructure was far from high-rise, and few eyes had sights on this sprawling paradise.

Life on the Bayou 

Stephanie Somerset’s life has been centered in saltwater from the very beginning.  

Her parents built her childhood home on Cinco Bayou in Fort Walton Beach. She and her siblings spent their free time in, on, and around the water.   

“The bayou was like our backyard,” Somerset says. “We were sun-kissed water babies.” 

Back then, she says, shrimp could be spotted near the shoreline burrowing in the sand beneath shallow waters. She and her siblings would hand-fish 5-inch-long shrimp, filling a bucket in one go.  

“Sadly, because of all of the development that occurred as we were growing up, we watched that fade away over the years,” she recalls.  

As a teenager in the ’70s, Somerset formed a love for boating.  

“My dad got a ski boat,” she says. “So, we all learned how to drive the boat before we could drive a car.” 

Her brother commuted by boat to work at the Fisherman’s Wharf restaurant in Destin where the Emerald Grande is located today. With the ski boat tied up, Somerset found herself called to set sail. She’d borrow a neighbor’s small wooden sailboat and practice on an old boyfriend’s Hobie catamaran.  

“I was really into sailing; I think I caught the bug really early,” she says.  

Photo courtesy of Stephanie Somerset

Some Kind of Nirvana 

While attending Florida State University, she’d drive down to explore Panama City Beach.  

“By then I had discovered you could sail your boat out to Shell Island,” she says. “So, I got a sailboat of my own.” 

A sales position with IBM sent her to the East Coast of North Carolina where she got in with the local sailing scene, but it wasn’t the same.  

“That’s when I started realizing how much I missed the Panhandle,” Somerset says. “I would talk about it and talk about it, and my boss would go, ‘What is it, some kind of nirvana down there?’ And I said, ‘Well, yes, yes it is.’”  

Eventually, a transfer back to Florida and a later remote position allowed her to settle in Panama City.  

In 1995, she met her late husband Bill Gavin during a visit to Shell Island. On a sailing trip two years later, they picked up a companion.  

“We adopted a dog in Granada, in the West Indies, and she sailed all the way home with us. She was like our family.” 

Sands of Time 

Shell Island became a regular family affair for Somerset, Gavin, and their pup.  

“We sailors, we just marveled at how beautiful, undeveloped, and pristine it was,” Somerset says. “We practically had Shell Island to ourselves.” 

But in 2006, new restrictions were enforced by the state park, banning dogs and alcohol. In response, Somerset started the Friends of Shell Island organization.  

“I got all these members together and we protested politely,” she says. “We met with state park officials. That’s when we found out there was a subdivision in the middle of the island.” 

The Western portion of Shell Island is owned by St. Andrews State Park. The Eastern portion is owned by Tyndall Air Force Base. But a slice of paradise sandwiched between the two, they found, was privately owned. 

A Tallahassee developer had plans approved back in 1957. But the infrastructure never came to fruition, and the sands of time have since covered any progress that had once begun.  

“We regained the ability to take little Xena to the island as long as we stayed in the subdivision.” 

Photo by Mike Fender

More than High-rises 

Today, Somerset lives in the same beachfront home her husband built when he was just 27. Tucked away toward the east end of Thomas Drive, she’s removed from the nearby tourism corridor. Still, she says, businesses are growing.  

“Thomas Drive used to be very quiet,” she says. “Now we’ve got several restaurants that have popped up and lots more traffic. I’ve noticed it when I go boating also.” 

While she notes that Panama City Beach’s growth has gone in a “classy direction,” Somerset says she’s grateful for quieter, Old Florida hangouts like J. Michael’s Restaurant. 

“Tourist season is getting more and more constant these days,” says Somerset, who doesn’t trek out to the Pier Park district often, and never in the busy season. Recalling a time when businesses once closed up for the winter, Somerset says the impact of tourism is give and take.  

“Back when I was growing up here, you could travel for miles, and it would just be undeveloped Gulf of Mexico as far as the eye could see,” says Somerset. “That was nice to have that all to ourselves. But at the same time, when it gets more developed, you get better services and amenities.” 

Shell Island, she says, remains a vestige of Old Florida paradise.