Florida is home to some pretty swanky resorts, and Islamorada–on Matecumbe Key–is home to one of the very swankiest. At the Checca Lodge you can be swathed in luxury with minions ready to fulfill your every whim. You can wine. You can dine. You can be massaged, mani-ed and pedi-ed. You can revel in the privacy of the 27-acre grounds, gated to keep the riff raff out.
We just got back from Islamorada. And I guess you could best describe our lodgings as the anti-Cheeca.
Many of the plastic chairs had broken slats. One of our windows had to be propped open with a shoe. The refrigerator in our room made strange clicking noises all night long.
But when this is the view from your private deck, a noisy refrigerator doesn’t really matter.
And a private patio.
I’m not really an ocean person. If I had to choose between ocean or mountains, I’d take mountains every time. I like changing seasons, fireplaces and thick socks. But in January–when spring is months away from Middle Tennessee–the Keys are hard to beat.
Travel is about change–change of scenery, change of habit, change of routine. We only had a few days there, but they were worth their weight in gold.
This isn’t the first time I’ve written about the Keys.
I hope it isn’t the last.
Oh–the guy in the header visited us one day and then scurried up a nearby palm. Not sure if he ever came down.