Twice to Molasses Keys — Why This Little Island Stole My Heart
Chrissy Clary
Two visits, endless blue: a personal love letter to sandbars, snorkel spots, and slow days under the Seven Mile Bridge.
Some places you visit once and cross off your list. Others — like the Molasses Keys — steal a piece of your heart and make you come back for more. I made Jeff take me there twice during our recent Florida Keys adventure, and honestly, I'd go again tomorrow if I could.
Finding Paradise off the Seven Mile Bridge
Just off Marathon, between Big Pine Key and the Seven Mile Bridge, lies a cluster of tiny islands called the Molasses Keys — a postcard brought to life. From the bridge, they look like a watercolor painting: turquoise water, white sand, and just enough mangroves to feel wild. It’s hard to believe a place this small could feel this perfect.
The Keys are about a quarter mile south of the bridge and roughly four miles west of Marathon. Four islands make up the chain — three stay above water year-round, and two are large enough to walk on. The easternmost one is lush and green, while the smaller southwest key feels like your own private beach. Between them runs a narrow channel where the water shifts from glassy turquoise to a deeper, almost cobalt blue.
Anchoring, Sandbars, and the Water That Glows
On our first visit, we anchored near the sandbar on the Atlantic side. It was early, calm, and surprisingly uncrowded — the kind of day where even the water feels like it’s in slow motion.
"Should we anchor to one?” I asked Jeff.
He squinted, scanning the shimmering blue. “Yeah, but go easy. There are people in the water.”
That’s the unspoken rule here — go slow, stay aware. Sandbars around Molasses Key attract swimmers, kayakers, and snorkelers. When you pull up, give everyone space and keep your prop clear of the shallows.
We'd been fishing off the Seven Mile Bridge earlier, but the chop had us queasy. A quick detour to Molasses Key was the best decision of the day. The wind dropped, the sun softened, and suddenly it was paradise.
Fishing and Floating: The Slow Life
We didn’t have a big fishing day here — just a few snapper, one grouper, and a parade of curious barracudas. But that wasn’t the point. At Molasses Key, the catch is secondary. It’s about floating over warm, clear water, spotting fish darting beneath you, and realizing you don’t actually want to go anywhere else.
If you snorkel, bring fins and water shoes — the ground’s rocky and coral-laced. I learned that the hard way when I nicked my foot on a hidden shard. Nothing serious, but enough to make me vow never to forget booties again. Trust me: the first rule of Molasses Keys is footwear.
What to Bring (and What to Leave Behind)
Molasses Key is raw and beautiful — part of what makes it so special is that it’s not a developed resort.
Here’s what we learned after two trips:
Bring water bottles, shoes, sunscreen, and a snorkel mask.
A lunch cooler and a sand sifter make the day more fun — especially for kids.
Respect the water and other visitors — you’ll share space with families, campers, and marine life alike.
The Big Island is privately owned by Frank and Monica Woll, who have lovingly preserved its ecosystem. Camping here requires permission — and they take conservation seriously. Day visitors can register on the official site, MolassesKeys.com, using the QR code posted on-site or online. Camping approval is case-by-case, and all guests are asked to follow strict environmental rules.
Why I Fell in Love with the Molasses Keys
Maybe it was the silence — the kind that makes even the ocean sound soft. Maybe it was the way the light changed from morning to late afternoon, the sea shifting from emerald to sapphire to gold. Or maybe it was simply that for once, there was nothing to do but float.
We watched kids digging in the sand with buckets, couples clinking drinks on paddleboards, and fishermen drifting just beyond the flats. Every single person there looked at peace — like the world had slowed down just for them.
If You Go
Location: Just south of the Seven Mile Bridge, about 4 miles west of Marathon.
Access: By boat only. Anchor on the sandbar, not the vegetation.
Camping: Registration required via MolassesKeys.com/reserve.
Shoes: Don’t skip them — coral, shells, and glass lurk beneath.
Best Time: Morning or early evening, when the light turns the water surreal.