*All travel expenses for this stay were paid by Hawks Cay Resort, but all opinions are my own

The Gulf-side gazebo at Hawks Cay Resort

Sometimes getting away from work and reconnecting with the world (and each other) is as simple as a sunrise turning to denim-blue sky, water green as sea glass, and the quiet slap of the Gulf of Mexico against a wooden dock.

Welcome in a pod of cetaceans, a flock of pelicans and a freshly mixed mojito, and you’ve got yourselves a perfect Florida Keys escape at Hawks Cay.

Turning left off of Overseas Highway 1 at Mile Marker 61, I crossed the white-washed bridge to Duck Key beneath a soaring swath of cormorants. I slowed down to watch a leisure trawler putter slowly out of the marina into the mid-afternoon sun, and read the inscription on its back:

A World Away, The Florida Keys.

On Duck Key, 20 minutes south of Islamorada and north of Marathon, Hawks Cay inhabits its own island and its own atmosphere, both relaxed and luxurious.

Within moments of my arrival in the airy lobby, I was seated out back at the Beach Grill, watching flashy cigarette boats cruise soundlessly back and forth through a channel bordered by mangroves and chalky coral. As I leaned back in a teak chair, put up my bare feet and sipped my citrus mojito, two little girls in crayon-bright bathing suits shared a chicken salad wrap with great concentration, looking up only long enough to smile at each other.

Ranked in 2009 by Travel+Leisure as the #2 resort in Florida and the #32 resort in the U.S. and Canada, Hawks Cay is laid back but not undiscovered. Full to capacity during my late February stay, seemingly every other guest was European or South American; their mingled accents and languages, mixed with southern, Cuban and Caribbean lilts, made me feel happily adrift from familiar ground.

Around Hawks Cay, clockwise from top L: The main pool, whimsical sign, around the saltwater lagoon, tables at the Beach Grill, cigarette boats cruise for attention, the glorious fruit table at the Terrace

My water view guest room, with its big West Indian-style mahogany bed, framed shell collections and gleaming vanity, was something I wish I’d designed for my home. Just outside, it was a few steps to the one adults-only pool and hot tub; I swanned around out there until a catering team quietly descended to set up for a private party.

This event lasted several hours right outside my room, and through the thickly-paned glass of my back door I rarely heard a poolside peep. However, through my thin front door, I could hear even the softest whisper out in the hall; anytime there was a knock on a door, it sounded as if it was on mine. After the first couple of hours I got used to it, but late night returns and early morning departures still occasionally broke through my perfect peace.

My water view guest room and its water view at Hawks Cay

Up early the next day with a peachy glow in the sky and a light breeze skipping the water, I had the resort’s nature trails all to myself. Breakfast at the Terrace was a gorgeous buffet of fruits, homemade pastries and fluffy eggs, and I took a seat by a window to watched the morning clouds roll away.

Soon it was time for the star attraction, the Dolphin Connection. Hawks Cay is one of the few U.S. resorts with a dolphin attraction that’s also an accredited training facility, and I was eager to experience their Dolphin Discovery program ($155 for 45 minutes).

After squeezing myself into a fetching wetsuit, our small group was given a 20-minute tutorial on Atlantic bottlenose dolphin anatomy and physiology, as well as what we can all do to improve the health of seas and oceans. Afterwards, a trainer-in-training led my small group to short docks over an enclosed portion of Duck Key’s saltwater lagoon. For 25 minutes, with a few short breaks, we were gently introduced to the Connection’s five male dolphins in the water. I spent most of my time with Hastings or Lucky, getting a safely orchestrated hug and kiss, flipper-to-palm dancing, fish-feeding, giving dolphin belly rubs…and smiling my face off.

I had been concerned about the Humane Society’s plea to end swim-with-dolphin attractions, but what I found at Dolphin Connection hit all of HSUS’ more positive marks. The dolphins here are all captive-bred, and two male pairs are longtime companions (male dolphins naturally form multi-decade friendships in the wild). Trainers treat their charges with care and respect, and human-dolphin time is strictly limited each day. The pen here is their actual saltwater habitat, and only one dolphin has ever attempted escape; after a brief adventure, he came back to the life he knows.

Scenes from Dolphin Connection: saltwater lagoon; Hastings and me; group belly rub; a pre-water tutorial

Post-Discovery, still on a dolphin high, I wandered over to the Duck Key Marina and took a seat on the gray, weathered docks to watch pelicans swoop in to land, ruffle their feathers, and take deep breaths before settling in beside one another for a nice long stare. Diving and snorkel boats had already left the harbor, so sport fishermen left behind cleaned their catches or took their dogs for walks around the island.  One lone couple pushed off in a kayak, headed for mangrove exploration ($20 for a half-day).

I heard the occasional splash of a pelican dive, a lazy wake-clap against a fiberglass hull, and the distant trill of a transistor radio. I could have sat there all day, waiting for Tom’s Harbor House to open.

Scenes from the Duck Key Marina

But I was due at the Calm Waters Spa. Named the #1 hotel spa in the U.S. and Canada (once again by Travel + Leisure), it’s small, quiet and a short outdoor walk from the resort lobby. The gift shop has an amazing array of distinctly affordable gifts, like beaded purses, chunky necklaces, comfort flip-flops and batik-print pajamas. The view from the communal steam room and sauna is of treetops and sky, and both are small and immaculate; I only wish that they weren’t co-ed. Be sure to bring a bathing suit to avoid over-sharing with strangers.

After thumbing through a fascinating photo book on Florida, I was ushered into my 80-minute indulgence, Calm Waters’ signature Key Lime Mojito Body Treatment.  (Personally, I like all of those words.)  There was sugar-scrubbing, warm-wrap cocooning, Vichy-showering and massaging, all with the wafting scent of limes; the only way this could have possibly made me happier is if my masseuse had crammed a giant piece of pie in my mouth.

Key Lime shooters at Alma, Hawks Cay's Nuevo Latino restaurant

Turns out, I’d only have to wait a few hours for pie. As a couples’ traveler, I rarely find myself dining alone, but I enjoyed taking myself on a date to Alma, the resort’s swankiest dining room. The cuisine here is Nuevo Latino, the ingredients fresh and often local. Lighting is low, decor is sparkly and modern, service is friendly and the wine list is gorgeous.

I paired an ’07 Albariño with a rich, creamy conch and yautiá chowder, an (almost too) enormous leafy salad, and one of the best dishes I’ve ever eaten, breadfruit gnocchi with sweet cherry tomatoes and oyster mushrooms. I finished a great meal and a heavenly day with dessert — delicious, nearly crustless ”shooters” of  Key Lime Pie (dinner for two, about $120).

NOTE: Hawks Cay is a two-hour drive from Miami, but leave an extra half-hour’s wiggle room for construction along the Overseas Highway.  Spring for the $17 Sun Pass addition to your rental car and save significant time at tolls.  The resort is approximately 30 minutes north of Key West.

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See related posts
Settling in at Hawks Cay…After Quite a Day
A Drive Through the Florida Keys
Key West: Slowing Down to a Meander
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

Fresh (in a manner of speaking) off a week aboard the Crown Princess, I’ve just arrived at the Hawks Cay Resort in the Florida Keys to rediscover my land legs, unwind in a gorgeous poolside room with dark woods and soft fabrics…and frolic with dolphins.

After the horrendous day of travel I’ve had, it’s a complete joy to be here.

I’ve been up today since 6am, having spent the day disembarking from the Crown Princess at Port Everglades in Ft. Lauderdale, bidding adieu to my friend/shipmate Samantha, then driving at a leisurely pace down the Overseas Highway. Some people might think a press trip followed by a press weekend is crazy talk, but so far I’m loving the chance to relax post-cruise and airplane-free.

Getting off the ship was a mildly epic contact sport involving 2000 some-odd people in a focused melee of luggage, passports, taxis and bus vouchers. Once on a bus bound for my rental car at the Ft. Lauderdale airport, though, the ride was only a few short minutes. However, while I found the airport in Ft. Lauderdale bright, clean, and full of kind people, an unfortunate incident there threw me for a loop.

Stepping down from the bus with a smile, I saw the luggage handler hoisting my suitcase onto a big cart and said not to worry, I’d be fine wheeling my own bags from there. At that moment, an elderly gentleman (who, it would soon become clear, suffers from dementia) wheeled up with his walker and announced loudly, “My God, you have a voice that could scratch glass! Shut the [bleep] up.”

The man’s much younger caretaker stopped in her tracks, frozen. The luggage handler from the bus turned his back and kept about his business. Two sweet, bubbly sixty-something women from the cruise stood on either side of me, poised for trouble. Surprised, I took a step back and begged this man’s pardon, to which he replied, “Hearing your voice hurts my ears and you just better stop using it.”

Now, I’ve been told my entire life that I have a lovely voice (and that I talk a heck of a lot, but at least in a mellifluous tone), but this is beside the point. Seeking to exit the scene with my dignity intact, I merely replied with a smile and said, “Sir, that’s just about the rudest thing anyone’s ever said to me. But you have a good day, now.”

Before I could turn to go, this man stepped forward and cuffed me on the jaw, hard, with a closed fist. That’s right, folks, for the implied crime of being within a stranger’s earshot, I was hit in the face by a mentally ill octogenarian outside a crowded airport.

My “assailant” had apparently been steeped in some ashy dirt, because he left a big smudge on my jawline; the two women beside me hissed at him to move off, and then, to my grateful surprise, one pulled out a kleenex to dust me off. The man’s caretaker moved towards me to apologize, but I assured her it wasn’t her fault..and wished her luck for a better day. (Can’t imagine her life’s a picnic.) The burly luggage guy had already moved well on ahead.

This, dear readers, would never have happened if Adam had been traveling with me. Ah, well…such are the bizarre adventures of the frequent traveler.

Flash forward to a long, straight drive beside turquoise water in a white PT Cruiser (very Florida-appropriate), a warm greeting at Hawks Cay, a tasty salad wrap and (nerves-calming) mojito at the Beachside Grill, and watching flashy cigarette boats putter by enroute to the nearby marina. It’s absolutely beautiful weather in the Keys today, a breezy and sunny 75 degrees Fahrenheit.

Tomorrow I’ll be swimming with dolphins at The Dolphin Connection, the resort’s on-site dolphin research facility, and indulging in a Key Lime Mojito Body Treatment (three of my favorite things strung all together) at the resort’s Calm Waters Spa. I feel a little like a kid just on the verge of going to Disneyland…albeit one with a slightly sore jaw.

Now ensconced in a terry robe on a big, comfy bed, the strains of Latin jazz wafting in from a poolside party as the golden sun sets through slowly waving palms, I can’t help feeling that I’d love to be both with my husband and here.

More to come next week on Hawks Cay, my week’s sail aboard the Crown Princess and my excursions ashore.

‘Til then, please follow my adventures on Twitter and Facebook!

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See also

A World Away at Hawks Cay

Travels With Two

The drive between Key West and Miami through the Florida Keys takes about 3 1/2 hours.  But if you do it right, it can take a lot longer.

Our nighttime, late-December drive to Key West from the Miami Airport wasn’t much of a visual treasure — we could hardly see a thing.  Even so, we managed to get on the Keys’ laid-back wavelength right away.

Craving a crab-shack vibe, we stopped for greasy conch fritters and coconut shrimp at Lorelei in Islamorada Key, a dockside cabana bar where the palm trees (and friendly, middle-aged drunks) swayed in the cool evening breeze.  Christmas lights shimmered on the water, a steel-drum cover band played The Eagles, and a group of blowsy locals swapped the day’s unlikely fishing stories.  In that moment, we’d have been hard-pressed to recall the lives we’d left behind.

The drive back up was more vivid and less insidiously…lulling.

On Christmas Day ’08, we set out in a rented convertible on the most famous stretch of Historic Route 1 at, well…I have no idea what time.  Mellow Key West doesn’t exactly lend itself to timekeeping.  Let’s just say the sun was shining softly across the lagoon-blue water, shall we?

The Gulf of Mexico was on our left, the Atlantic on the right.  It took only a minute for us to grasp how wildly improbable this two-lane highway, and in fact the very Keys themselves, really are.  The whole area is little more than miles of ridiculously beautiful water full of sand-tethered mangrove clusters masquerading as islands. We couldn’t help but wonder, how the heck did anyone ever manage to build anything here?

For instance, there’s the engineering marvel of the Seven Mile Bridge (Mile Marker 40), which runs bizarrely parallel to segments of its former, more rail-friendly version.  A housing development in Big Pine Key (Mile Marker 30.2) runs like a maze through a deer refuge, and has a slow-to-a-crawl speed limit through its jungly backroads.  The ugly commercial stretch of Marathon Key (Mile Markers 52-60) seems to stretch on like a… marathon; it even has its own airport.

View from the Seven Mile Bridge

But to be fair, down in the Keys there’s also a great deal of nothingness.  More so now than ever, I’m afraid.

We made several stops by the roadside to gander at blue and endless views, and found the same sad surprise each time.  The road-adjacent coral reefs in the Florida Keys are dead. Every beach we visited had healthy palms and powder-soft sand, but a short wander into the shallow, lukewarm water always yielded algae-slimed or bleached-white reef remains.   Even the popular Anne’s Beach (Mile Marker 73.5), with its stretching plain of shallows, was a coral graveyard.

Anne's Beach, one of many dead coral reefs in the Florida Keys

We passed up two chances to see what would happen father from shore.

Looe Key, a ways from the coast of Bahia Honda State Park (Mile Marker 37) is one of the most popular places to snorkel in the Lower Keys.  (Having checked out the almost colorless photos of the reef on the park’s site, though, I’m not altogether sad we missed it.)  By the time we’d thought to stop there, we’d already blown past; I just caught a glimpse of a turquoise cove and a huge pelican perched on a rock.  Looked like a fun place to poke around, if not exactly immerse ourselves.

Way up in Key Largo, we also passed on a glass bottom boat tour at John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park (Mile Marker (102.5).  We did manage to make it through the zoo-like parking lot, into the tacky gift shop/snack bar, and as far as the dark and mildly depressing aquarium in the visitor’s center, though.  The kindly ranger behind the desk, mostly ignored despite her friendly smile, was happy to give us the scoop on the reef.  The first living stretch is 7 miles from shore, so the “bit of sailing” we’d hoped for would have been an almost three-hour odyssey, crushed aboard a full tourist boat.

Bye bye, pretty fish.   Hello, Pennekamp tourist boat video on You Tube.

Dagny Johnson Key Largo Hammock Botanical Park

What we did explore fully was the boardwalk, mangrove forest, and secluded beach of the Dagny Johnson Key Largo Hammock Botanical State Park.  (A hammock is an Age of Exploration term for a mangrove forest/wetland.)

For $1.50, we saw tiny frogs, big spiders, and a dozen kinds of shorebirds.  Having trekked a tragic mangrove forest the year before in northwestern Bali, where seemingly all of Southeast Asia’s seaborne garbage was trapped in the tangle, we wanted to see if Florida suffered from the same fate.  We’re happy to say it doesn’t, save for the odd plastic bag stuck in the canopy.  The first beach looked serene and inviting, so I stepped out onto the sand to snap some photos…and promptly began to sink.

Thankfully, Adam was right behind me, or I might possibly have been swallowed by the quagmire.  As it was, I nearly lost my flip-flop — clearly the wrong choice of footwear for the park. Once we stopped laughing, I sloshed my way back through the forest to the park’s almost freakishly clean bathrooms.  Never thought I’d be washing muck off my feet at a state park and at the same time worrying about getting the floor dirty.

I wouldn’t trade our day of Keys driving for anything, but I’ve decided that one of my many dream trips would instead be a sail through the Keys down to the Caribbean, with yet more wind in my hair and Adam by my side.

* For more of our photos from the Florida Keys, click here.

See related posts
Key West: Slowing Down to a Meander
A World Away at Hawks Cay
TWT Travel Binder: Florida

Travels With Two

For the last few years, I’ve been strangely gripped with an urge to see the southernmost part of the U.S., Key West, Florida.

I must have read that Key West is overrun by friendly cats and chickens….and well, we love us some cats and chickens.  Or, it could have been the Key Lime Pie.

Mmm…pie.

What landed us in Key West, and in Florida in general, was a process of elimination.  Having committed to a late December family wedding in D.C., where winter temperatures often hover around 20 degrees, we began to toy with East Coast-adjacent escapes to the sun.

With only six days to play with during Christmas week, the Caribbean was laughably exorbitant and flights to our dream trips in Central America proved too complex and time-consuming.  So then there was Florida, dangling before us like a coconut on a palm tree.

Our direct flight to Miami from Dulles was just over two hours long, though the drive to Key West was three-and-a-half more. Flying into Ft. Lauderdale would have been cheaper, but would have added another 45 minutes’ drive time.  Flying into Key West would have been both more expensive and required a change of planes.  Miami seemed a good compromise, and considering the gorgeous drive down, it was.

The greatest advantage of taking a tropical vacation in our own country was the feeling that time could expand. Assured by the relative proximity of Florida, we felt content to spend whole hours in the pursuit of little.

View from Simonton Court's Camellia Room

Our historic B & B, the Simonton Court, was the perfect spot to get on Key West’s laid-back wavelength.  I’d booked us the Camellia Room, with a big second-story balcony overlooking a lush garden of silvery palms and a gently heated pool.  One quiet afternoon, we found we had the whole property to ourselves, and swam, sunned, stretched, and read.

You know, like vacation.

While the Simonton staff couldn’t have been more helpful or friendly, their Achilles heel is their tragic coffee.  (Listen, you can’t have everything.)  For a better brew, we ventured to the Coffee & Tea House of Key West (1218 Duval Street), where a rich cappuccino comes with a little snark from the quirky proprietress (who, despite her attempts to convince you otherwise, clearly likes human beings).

Once caffeinated, we just took to wandering.  Key West only seems to be about 20 blocks long in any direction, so you can either rent a bike or, like us, walk almost everywhere.  We mostly left our car parked on the streets, since Key West holiday tradition dictates free parking for a few days before and after Christmas.

Cat at the Ernest Hemingway House

We took the money we saved and shelled out $12 bucks apiece to visit The Ernest Hemingway Home.  A modest 1850s house set amidst a lush tropical garden, it’s prowled by about 60 six-toed cats who’ve come to expect the constant adoration of strangers.  Check out the gorgeous ceramic tile everywhere and the terrible living room artwork donated by decades’ worth of Hemingway’s fans.  Our favorite was an oil portrait of the house with two cats in the extreme foreground; the felines and home appear to be exactly the same size.

We snaked in and out of the gently run-down streets of the Bahama Village neighborhood, where every single person, often sitting on lawn chairs on their scrabbly front lawns, smiled and said hello to us.  Seabirds clustered on electric wires overhead, chickens scratched the dirt and hopped fences, and weary clapboard houses were sometimes spruced with pink, blue and orange paint.  In a sad sign of the times, the entire site of the outdoor flea market here is currently for sale.

We strolled as much of boorish, kitschy Duval Street as we could stand.  Amongst the weaving drunks, there are occasional bright spots, like the salads at the big ol’ Victorian The Grand Cafe and the pastries at Croissants de France.  However, the closer you get to the north end of Old Town, the more Duval devolves into day crowds pouring off docked cruise ships, sad and shabby bars, and offensive t-shirt shops.

A t-shirt that has about thirty expletives followed by a cheery “Key West” at the bottom seems a bizarre ad for a sleepy little place on the water, but then…no one asked us what we think.

True Key West culture is actually a mix of flashy drag revues, country club refugees in golf shirts and Bermuda shorts, quiet and church-going folk, bemused European expats, and aging, nicotine-stained drunks weaving along the streets in broad daylight.  Eclectic, yes, but somehow there’s room on this small island for everyone.

From L: Bahama Village; just off Duvall Street; house on Poorhouse Lane

In particular, Key West attracts middle-aged gay men looking to escape the big city for a quieter life.

One such man, David Case, abandoned a career at the famous New York City teahouse chain, Sarabeth’s, only to start Sarabeth’s Key West (530 Simonton Street) in a vibrantly-painted Victorian-era synagogue; he now happily greets his patrons in outfits that would make the writers of The Official Preppy Handbook weep with joy.  They do a beautiful breakfast here, but skip the dry potatoes in favor of their fresh-baked muffins.

Much of the gay community lingers on the elegant patio at Square One (1075 Duval Street) to smoke, drink, and indulge in the best (house-made) Key Lime Pie we had on the whole trip.  While you’re there, try not to miss the roasted garlic with feta and dill, either.

Hmmm.  I think I’m beginning to piece together how we both gained five pounds on this trip…

One afternoon, we stumbled upon the Key West AIDS Memorial, an austere concrete bridge leading out into the choppy teal sea, and read just some of the hundreds of names of inscribed on its path.  With tears in my eyes, Adam gallantly steered me next door, past the also heartbreaking African Cemetery, where almost 300 of the last intended slaves, sick from their forced journey, were buried by Key West locals in 1860.

The cemetery’s beach park sits adjacent to the slightly shabby but altogether charming Key West Garden Club. After oohing over their sparkly, shell-strewn Christmas tree, we plunked ourselves down at a tiled table beside the ocean and listened to a salty breeze shiver the palms.

Christmas tree at the Key West Garden Club...and Sea Sponge Man

We beat the tourist rush at downtown Mallory Square by poking around before 10am. Any later, and the monstrous cruise ships unleash their human cargo upon countless souvenir shops, bars, and a pirate museum.  In the morning quiet, we saw skinheads getting tattoos, a few well-fed chickens, an old-timey conch fritter stand, a tinsel-trimmed Christmas tour train, a few stalwart red-brick municipal buildings masquerading as castles, and our favorite — Sea Sponge Man.

Later that evening, we booked a two-hour sunset sailboat ride through Floridays and sailed past the Square again, where hundreds of revelers gathered for the nightly tourist ritual of greeting the sunset.  Ruffled by the cool sea air, we were sometimes kept company by the friendly female first mate, a young Venezualan woman who’d three years earlier followed her love from San Francisco to Key West.

She told us a few things about the island:

Fancy people steer their yachts from all over the world to dock in Key West free of charge and rules.  Sure, this practice has all but killed the lovely coral reefs that used to hug the coast, but now we all get to ogle the shiny boats instead.

If you’re hell-bent on the perfect Key West sunset, visit in late May or early September.

Right beside swanky, private Sunset Key Island, there’s a scrubby, uninhabited isle, home only to a few transients. The former owner, a grande dame of Key West society, died not long ago, stipulating that the island be kept safe from development; her grown children, left behind in an encroaching recession, apparently now have other ideas.  Might not make a great resort, but perhaps a good soap opera.

Travels With Two