ENGLEWOOD BEACH - High-rises and big-name hotel chains haven't made it to this quiet beach town on Manasota Key in Charlotte County. Most of the motels are still mom-and-pop operations. So are the restaurants.

This is retro Florida, the way it looked in the '50s and '60s, before brand-name motels and restaurants invaded the landscape. No Denny's or McDonald's here. Everyone flocks to Lock-'N'-Key Restaurant & Pub, Beach Cottage Restaurant and White Elephant Pub.

Many visitors here tend to come every winter and spend a while to escape the cold of Indiana, Illinois, Ohio, Michigan and other more frigid states. They rent efficiencies, walk the beach, fish in the bay and barbecue their catches on tiny grills outside their rooms — all just feet from the Gulf.

"All you do is fish, eat and sleep," Tony Bouw says, describing his new life as a retiree vacationing on Englewood Beach.

	Tribune photo by KAREN HAYMON LONG A Great Blue Heron waits patiently for handouts on Englewood Beach.

Bouw is wearing shorts, a T-shirt and sandals while cleaning sheepshead he caught off the marina at Weston's Resort, where he has been staying for three months. Back home in Ontario, it's 25 degrees.

"It was below zero in January," he says, grinning.

The weather lures visitors such as Bouw, but the lifestyle keeps them coming back year after year.

Carolyn and Ed Wohrley of Morrison, Ill., have "wintered" at Weston's Resort for nine years in a row.

"It's a good place where you can fish in the bay, take walks on the beach and relax," Carolyn Wohrley says.

"You meet friendly people every day," Bouw says.

More down-home than its ritzier sisters, Boca Grande to the south and Sarasota to the north, Englewood Beach makes a great weekend getaway because it isn't fancy or pretentious. It's less expensive to stay and eat here than it is in more upscale beach communities. And you don't even have to go to a bait shop for bait. Many gas stations sell it.

Beach, Bay Flank State Park

What makes this beach town really unique: a 250-acre state park that stretches from the Gulf to Lemon Bay just south of Weston's Resort on Manasota Key.

The state bought the land from a family in the early '70s and turned it into Stump Pass State Park in 1999. It's a treasure, almost unheard of in a state where waterfront tracts run into the millions of dollars.

Christopher Angel, the park's lone ranger, encourages visitors to take a nature trail that runs through the park's interior. You'll see soaring pines, estuaries, sea grape trees, cabbage palms, native plants, picnic tables and a bathhouse, he promises.

It's tempting not to take his advice. From the beach, you can see dolphins and fishing and pleasure boats, and you can find ancient black sharks' teeth in the sand.

It's probably best to walk the beach, then head back on the trail through the woods. That way, you can experience two very different types of walks.

Kayak Festival In May

Angel, who has worked for nine months at the park, also encourages visitors to kayak in Lemon Bay, bordering the park, and in other places in Charlotte County. He and others have organized a kayak festival May 15 and 16 at the park, with kayak races, seminars and food vendors.

"This area down here is incredible for kayaking," Angel says.

We followed his advice in a little village called Placida, closer to Boca Grande but still only about 15 minutes from Stump Pass park. We rented kayaks from Grande Tours, a company that has been around for 15 years and was recommended by locals. For $20 each, we kayaked for two hours around Coral Creek, near Charlotte Harbor.

In that time, we saw only one other kayaker and a man in a Carolina Skiff. The shallow water was a pale tea color, so clear we could see crabs scrambling along the sand. Hundreds of white ibis poked around for bugs among the mangroves. Squawking osprey soared overhead, and great blue herons and snowy egrets stood watch, knee-deep in the water. We even saw a white pelican flying overhead.

Once in a while, we could hear a train whistle in the distance or see a small plane pass overhead. But mostly, we were alone with the birds.

Few People, Lots Of Sharks' Teeth

We found that tranquillity on Englewood Beach, too, just a few feet from our efficiency room's door. During two long walks, with the Gulf on one side and the state park's quiet acreage on the other, we saw few people. But everyone we saw said hello and smiled.

Among them were Jim and Mary Minix. They live in Mount Victory, Ohio, most of the year but spend the winter and spring in Arcadia, not far from Englewood Beach.

The couple try to make it to the beach once a week to comb the sand for sharks' teeth and "to look for treasure," Mary Minix says.

"Jim found this gold wedding band here," she says, holding up her ring finger.

Armed with a basket-shaped sand sifter on a stick, which they jokingly call a "Florida snow shovel," Jim Minix patiently sifts through the sand in search of jewelry, yes, but mostly sharks' teeth.

This beach, like nearby Venice's, has millions of them, so many that the sand in spots is blanketed with black specks. You don't even have to dig in the sand for them; they rest right on top. Mary Minix found several hundred that day.

"I put them all in a jar when we get home," she says. "I give a lot to our grandson, Timmy. One time, I found one an inch wide. That was my nicest find ever. I gave it to him and told him to keep it because it would bring him good luck."

Celebrating The Sunset

Later that evening, couples and kids gather on the beach to cheer on the sunset. As the adults party under a pavilion, the children chase each other in the sand. Some toast to the huge orange sun as it slips into the Gulf.

The next evening, they are sure to gather again.

That's another nice thing about this part of Florida. People tend to celebrate the sunrise, the sunset, their fishing catches and their dolphin spottings.

This, like one bumper sticker said, is "Old Florida."

Karen Haymon Long can be reached at (813) 259-7618.

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