As our plane lifts off from Florida, I glance out the window for a final look at Anna Maria Island. From above, it strikes me as oddly familiar – not from a map, but from an Instagram reel my daughter once showed me. The island resembles a single-celled organism under a microscope – self-sustaining, each part intricately connected, every piece relying on the other. It stretches thin and curved, fringed by beaches so white they glow in the afternoon sun, looking like an island that’s independent.

Two days ago, veteran charter captain Jarrod McKenzie measured the snook I reeled in from Bimini Bay. It was an inch too short to keep. Without a word, he eased the silvery fish back into the turquoise water, watching it disappear.

“Every species of fish has a different set of rules,” he said as he watched the fish swim off. “The better they are to eat, the stricter the laws are usually. It’s all based off science. We can take, but we cannot deplete.”

On Florida’s northwestern coast, sustainability isn’t just an aspiration – it’s a necessity. The devastation of hurricanes Helene and Milton, which caused nearly $400 million in damage to the Bradenton area last year, underscore the urgent need for eco-conscious living. In the wake of these storms, residents and local leaders embrace resilience-driven initiatives, reinforcing sustainability as critical to rebuilding and protecting their communities.

And tourists are encouraged to take part. “Love It Like a Local” is the theme promoted by the Bradenton Area Convention and Visitors Bureau. On Anna Maria Island, the speed limit is 25 mph, making electric golf carts the preferred way to get around. Our family of four, on spring break, enjoyed cruising in one provided at our rental home. There’s also a free trolley that runs from sunrise until after sunset, connecting Pine Avenue on the north end with Historic Bridge Street on the south. Bicycles are everywhere.

Protecting native plants, like mangroves that buffer storms and prevent flooding, is also encouraged. Several shop owners told us they dim their lights during turtle nesting season, so hatchlings don’t mistake the shore for the ocean.

Wherever we roamed, we noticed other efforts to preserve the environment in ways that made perfect sense. For example, our daughter ordered a wild berry smoothie at Back Alley Treasures, a combination knickknack shop and refreshment stop on the south end of the island. Travis Keith whipped one up, then plunked down a pasta straw inside.

Sustainability is very true of the food scene, where freshness is the focus, such as the trout, redfish, and mackerel we caught on our inshore charter.

I boarded the boat in Cortez, an old fishing village seemingly straight out of a Hemingway novel. Weathered crab traps were stacked along the docks. Pelicans waited for scraps. Nearby is Star Fish Company, a restaurant perched over the water. It’s a casual spot known for grouper sandwiches and baskets of fried shrimp – seafood pulled from the boats docked just feet away.

Owner Karen Bell also runs A.P. Bell Fish Company, one of the last working fish houses in Cortez, just next door. She grew up in the village and has made it her mission to keep Cortez a fishing community, not a condo development. 

“I was really concerned about disrupting the neighborhood,” she said. “That’s why we close at eight. I don’t have entertainment. I was trying to be respectful. My family has lived here forever.”

Bell’s efforts go beyond running a restaurant. She’s purchased as many local homes as she can, renting them back to her employees at affordable rates.

“They just walk down the street to the restaurant,” Captain McKenzie told us. It’s a move that helps keep Cortez a place where locals can make a living from the water.

Star Fish’s menu is simple – fried, grilled, or blackened seafood – served fresh with no fuss. The line stretches long but moves quickly. We devoured hearty seafood chowder, grouper sandwiches, and shrimp po’boys at a picnic table, watching the fishing boats come in.

We learned about another local sustainability effort when we dined at Oyster River, perched atop the Palmetto Marriott Resort & Spa. More than a century ago, the Manatee River was nicknamed the Oyster River for its abundance of oysters. Today, the county works to restore those beds and improve water quality. The 88-seat restaurant honors that history by partnering with Manatee County to recycle oyster shells – like the smoky Oysters Rockefeller we enjoyed – helping rebuild the reefs in the river below.

Several local restaurants and canneries collaborate with Robinson Preserve, a 679-acre natural sanctuary in northwest Bradenton, to recycle oyster shells. Although the local waters are generally too warm to harvest oysters for eating, they play a key role in filtering impurities, said Aedan Stockdale, education and volunteer manager at the preserve. The area features coastal grasslands, salt flats, marshes, and thriving mangrove habitats. More than seven miles of walking trails, including a portion made of recycled rubber, wind through the sanctuary, offering a pristine, peaceful getaway.

“This was once farmland. Now it’s thriving habitat again – for wildlife and for people,” Stockdale said. “It’s an example of what happens when a community invests in preserving and restoring natural spaces.”

While fishermen diligently work the water, farmers carefully tend the land. Gamble Creek Farms in Parrish, Florida, managed by Will Manson, supplies produce to local restaurants, including Beach House Waterfront Restaurant and SALT Bar & Table. During our visit, Manson walked us past neat rows of romaine, kale, and microgreens, all growing under carefully controlled conditions on the farm’s 26 acres, which once supported an orange grove.

“We grow everything as sustainably as we can,” he said. “We don’t use synthetic fertilizers or pesticides. It’s about providing clean, local produce that we’d want to eat ourselves.”

While shopping along Pine Avenue, we popped into Poppo’s Taqueria, a local chain in the Bradenton area. The menu highlights simple, local ingredients, including organic produce, meats free of antibiotics and hormones, and raw honey instead of refined sugar. My husband ordered the Bee Sting Burrito, with ancho chicken, rice, black beans, pico de gallo, and pineapple hot sauce. I went for vegetarian tacos and took bites between sips of a Sunshine City IPA from Green Bench Brewing in St. Petersburg.

Visitors can also board the Gulf Islands Ferry, which runs between downtown Bradenton and Anna Maria Island. The breezy 45-minute ride offers a scenic alternative to driving and helps reduce traffic on the bridges to and from the island. In Bradenton, highlights include the seasonal Bradenton Public Market on Saturdays and the Bradenton Riverwalk, a paved path beside the Manatee River featuring public art installations.

On our last night, we headed to The Waterfront Restaurant on Anna Maria Island, a classic Old Florida cottage framed by palm trees and overlooking Tampa Bay. We’d called ahead for the “You Catch. We Cook.” program and arrived with a zip-close bag of trout and redfish fillets that Captain McKenzie expertly cleaned on our fishing charter. He added a few stone crab claws, valued not only for their sweet meat but also for their unique ability to be regenerated, making them one of Florida’s most sustainable seafood sources.

Chef Billy Hermenau fried and blackened the trout, grilled the redfish, and served the stone crab meat with a housemade dipping sauce. There was plenty to share.

As we left, I took one last look from the window of the plane. Anna Maria Island, like that single-celled organism, lives because each part works in harmony. Fishermen, farmers, chefs, and shopkeepers. Sea turtles and oysters. Visitors and locals. And at its nucleus is a shared commitment to nurture, sustain, and protect what makes this place so rare.