Don’t throw in the sponge
By Carol Anne Lake
When planning a Florida vacation with a focus on beachcombing, I studied the shores known for fabulous glass with exotic colors and shapes, big seashells that wash right up to your feet, and occasionally mystical artifacts that have been tumbling in the ocean for centuries. I picked a beach on the Gulf Coast.
I plotted my trail and when the day arrived, I had tools and supplies in hand, and an embroidered bag that read “Gifts from the Sea.” I was out on the sand early in the morning, looking to beat the crowds. The only people there were one man with a metal detector and an elderly couple far in the distance. I slathered sunscreen on my pale skin and walked through the frothy sea foam to the water’s edge. A little choppy, was that good or bad? On Lake Erie, that is usually bad. It is when the lake takes back its gifts.
I headed out along the rough waves, my eyes focused on the sand. A broken sand dollar appeared—definitely a good omen. The first hour passed and my bag had a broken shell, a quarter, a strange rock I later identified as a conglomerate, and nothing more. By hour two, I had made my way a very far distance from the parking lot with nothing to show for my efforts. Of course, the day was not wasted; I enjoyed the sound of the waves, the call of the birds, and the deepening red of my skin. It was time to head back as the winds had picked up, and a salty mist was in the air.
As the skies darkened and the waves grew choppier, I left the rough shoreline and made my way back to my car, walking in the sand closer to the dunes. I noticed a big lump of something coated with sand in my path. On closer examination, it appeared to be a big sponge. Not wanting to go home empty handed, I put my rubber gloves on and scooped a wet, formless blob into a zip lock bag. As I walked the miles back to my car, I was finding large and small variations of sponges, each having their own unique designs and characteristics. I was suddenly intent on starting a new collection. My family room already looks like the seashore, but so far, no sponges. Talking to a friendly native Floridian, he informed me not to take anything that looked living, and those sponges could get very aromatic as the day went on. I thanked him for his input and finally put about a dozen bags in the trunk of my car.
Throughout the evening, I researched the dos and don’ts of sponge collecting. There is harvesting, which is taking sponges from the sea, and that requires a license. There is beachcombing, which is finding pieces of sponge that have broken loose, especially in heavy weather. It is legal to collect them unless there are postings restricting that activity. After my research, I went to check on my finds. The advice I received was unquestionably right about one thing: Those sponges really did have an intense aroma. I bought an inexpensive plastic container, a box of 10 garbage bags, and scented dryer sheets. On the trip home, it seemed like I added another garbage bag and dryer sheets every hundred miles, and then boxes of baking soda, and bottles of essential oils. We did a lot of driving with the windows open, and when spending the night at a motel, my husband demanded that the box of sponges be set out in the parking lot next to the car. I told him someone might take them, and his reply was, “One can only hope.” I guess he is not a true beachcomber at heart.
Arriving back in Ohio, I dumped all the sponges in the plastic tub and ran a hose over them for what I thought was long enough. No rinsing was going to be enough. I added bleach, which is generally inadvisable because it can damage the sponges. In my case, it did not damage the sponges. I tried peroxide, vinegar, and laundry soap. Sponges are filled with debris of all kinds, and lots of sharp broken shells. Tutorials say to squeeze the water through the sponges, and I would never do that without heavy rubber gloves and extreme caution. All sea finds should be handled carefully until washed, boiled, or sanitized in some way.
My washed sponges continued to have more than half the odor of a dead fish; consequently, I arranged them on a metal rack on my back patio for the entire winter. Most of the time they were buried in snow, but by spring no odor was left, and it was time to choose how I would display my new collection. It has now been several years, and the sponges look perfect and well-preserved.
Sponges are technically animals called Porifera. They are stationary, connected to the bottom of the sea or coral reefs; they do not move from their spot unless they are cut or break loose. Sponges are not complex organisms; they rely on the flow of water to provide oxygen, food, and to remove waste through movement called flagella. Their food source is basically bacteria, hence my recommendation to use rubber gloves when cleaning them. There are thousands of species of sponges worldwide and more than 127 species of sponges in the Florida Gulf—only about 115 more for me to find.
When you head out to the beach with great expectations and the day seems to disappoint you, let the lakes or the seas show you their little-noticed marvels. Beachcombing is just raking the seascape with your eyes and discovering new things to wonder over and appreciate…and sometimes deodorize.
All photos by Carol Anne Lake.
This article appeared in Beachcombing Magazine Volume 51 November/December 2025.
