AFFORDABLE ESCAPE
In the middle of our mini-golf game at the nearby Indian Lakes Resort, my 5-year-old daughter looked up and said, “Mom, we should play this kind of golf when we get back to America, too.” Maybe her geography was a little shaky but the comment was perfect in describing the transportive feel to this DuPage County resort.
Our little 21-hour staycation at the Bloomingdale hotel (www.indianlakesresort.com) felt not so much like traveling to another country as it did traveling to another world where relaxation is king.
Opened in the ’80s, Indian Lakes underwent a $10 million renovation and conversion to a Hilton property last summer. This involved spiffing up 310 guest rooms, the golf courses and revamping their upscale restaurant option in this sprawling prairie-style-inspired six-story structure. Bathrooms feature stone floors, granite counter tops and single-cup coffee machines cranking out Lavazza java. Bedding feels crisp, elegant and comfy. Even the standard rooms facing the parking lot offer pretty views.
All this for reasonable prices, especially when you book one of their package deals. We got the Gas Card package, which included a standard room with two breakfast buffets and a $25 gas card, for $160 including tax. We even got one-hour early check-in and check-out (normally 4 p.m. and noon) for no extra charge.
We are non-golfers, so the highlights of our stay included playing mini-golf and bopping between the outdoor and indoor pools. Saturday was family movie night at the indoor pool, where we watched “Goonies” and floated on inner tubes provided by the resort until 9 p.m.
We could have had dinner on the Masters Club patio and listened to an Irish band play, but we decided to order room service and watch more movies in our comfy digs. Room service offered generous kids’ meals of grilled cheese sandwiches, hamburgers and fish fingers (with fruit or fries) for $3.95-$4.95 and Mom’s big, pretty Cobb salad cost a mere $10.95.
The breakfast buffet — which included good, bold Starbucks Verona coffee, eggs, French toast, waffles, fruit, bacon, sausage, cold cereals, juice and an omelet station — provided just the sustenance we needed for the hours of swimming and playing that followed. The ride home: 40 minutes.
— Monica Eng
OLD-SCHOOL CHILLIN’
I lounged back against the springy white patio chair and put my book down. My girlfriend had the hotel pool to herself. She did a lazy backstroke, taking a long time to cross the width of the pool, the slap of her hands against the water loud in the near silence. The Lincolnshire Marriott Resort (marriott.com) — where we were staying — is surrounded by 175 acres of pristine fairway and a ring of forest; there’s a sizable lake out front with a fountain spitting high in the air, and the signs directing you around its winding paths (“tennis,” “golf, open to the public”) appear wooden and ragged, like arrows at an old summer camp.
She stopped swimming.
“Feel transported?” I asked.
“Back in time,” she said.
There’s an odd charm about the Lincolnshire. While staying there I kept thinking of it as The Chicago-Area Resort That Time Forgot. Which comes across more negative than I intend — there’s something to be said for a resort that hasn’t changed all that radically since the Ford administration, that still offers the simple joys of a spongy red hotel carpet and ornamental details the Brady Bunch would have considered classy.
Indeed, when the Lincolnshire opened in 1975 it was surrounded by miles of nothing. Today, the drive to Lincolnshire is a constant stop-and-go traffic jam — your typical big-box retail landscape.
At one time the Lincolnshire itself was a spectacle, a castle of suburban comfort — you paid for the pleasure of merely marveling in it. We paid, however, $239 a night; considering how many amenities are not included (and how expensive they are), today you want a package deal, which does include a few things for the same price (or less). For instance, the rooms are sunny, the beds cloud-like. But nearly every cool activity costs you. The pool is included. The 18-hole golf course is not. We considered that evening’s performance of “Nunsense” — the Marriott Theatre (just off the lobby) boasts one of the biggest subscription programs in the country — but at $45 a ticket, we skipped. Tennis sounded ideal — so we called the desk and learned tennis “is seasonal.”
“It’s June,” we said.
“Right,” they said.
“Huh?” we said. What they meant to say was that the courts are indoors and not air-conditioned, and there are no outdoor courts. So come back in October. Somewhat bored, but lulled by the cushiness of the joint, we settled on a mediocre dinner at the mid-range Tack Room — and it was gooey and comforting, as mediocrity often is. Our other option was the overpriced King’s Wharf. Buoys dangled from its ceiling, oars were bolted to its wood plank walls. It resembled a roadshow “Pirates of Penzance” — and offered an $80 Tomahawk Steak. It was like the Lincolnshire itself — not quite worth it, but you do smile.
— Christopher Borrelli
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ACTIVITIES GALORE … AND MOSQUITOES
It wasn’t necessarily the resort’s fault I didn’t have fun. The Eaglewood Resort & Spa in Itasca (www.eaglewoodresort.com) gives you more than you’d expect from a resort, including wired high-speed Internet access (via Ethernet). But the bulk of the amenities came in the resort’s 10,000-square-foot spa and health club, a few minutes’ walk from the main resort complex.
The health club offered a 25-meter pool that’s long enough for lap swimming yet shallow enough for kids to enjoy, though those under 16 need adult supervision. Past the gym were separate courts for basketball and volleyball. The club even housed a bar with a six-lane bowling alley ($20 an hour). Near the pool sat a sauna, steam room and a whirlpool perfect for relaxing on a lazy June evening. Thankfully, it was indoors.
Afterward, I walked back to the main complex resort to check out the bocce and baggo courts, perched near the lobby on two narrow strips of sand and encased in long, white boxes. The Eaglewood’s 18-hole, USGA-certified golf course, to the north of the resort. Though I didn’t play any holes, hanging out near the course made for a picturesque end to the afternoon.
That is, until the bugs attacked.
Somewhere between dinner and shooting billiards, I decided enough was enough. The mosquitoes had dug into me, feeding while I tossed bags near the golf course. They got a second helping as I dined on the outside terrace of Burnham, one of the resort’s two restaurants. I was halfway through their $21.95 buffet when I found the welts growing from my shorn scalp like horns.
By the time I started a game of eight ball inside Prairie River, the resort’s other restaurant and late-night lounge, the itching became unbearable. I packed up the billiard balls, handed them back to the bartender and headed for the elevator. I was going to bed. It was 11 p.m. on a Saturday night.
— Glenn Jeffers
KITSCHY HAVEN
My standard line about Pheasant Run goes something like this: “Imagine Lake Geneva hooked up with a strip mall in the back of a Dodge Dart.”
In other words, the kitsch abides at Pheasant Run, lots of it. But that kitsch fades the longer you stay at Pheasant Run in St. Charles (www.pheasantrun.com). The indoor Bourbon Street loses that air of cheesiness. The pool in the Garden Atrium, the one with the cascading waterfall, no longer reminds you of a Sybaris commercial.
Thanks to the recent $30 million renovation of this self-described “largest entertainment resort” in the Midwest, there is a new amphitheater to go with shows like Rob Becker’s “Defending the Caveman” and The Second City’s “Pratfall of Civilization.” The old dairy barn got a fresh coat of paint, perfect for the redesigned interior and regional fine dining of Harvest, the resort’s main restaurant. The lobby, Terrace Cafe and Clubhouse Lounge were all upgraded.
Still Pheasant Run and its homespun atmosphere are optimal for parents looking for solace by tossing their kids into a pool, the suburban housewives enjoying a spa weekend at Mario Tricoci, the peddling vendors at the convention center and the golf buddies playing both of Pheasant Run’s courses, then knocking back a few at the Clubhouse Lounge, located a putt away from the pro shop.
All that visual loudness, though, comes at a price. Aside from the pools and the fitness center, the only other amenity is the free Wi-Fi in your room. The rooms are nice, understated when compared to the rest of the resort, with matching desk and cabinet set and a comfy king bed. Oh, wait. Lilly’s Lounge, the resort’s nightclub, doesn’t have a cover. Maybe that’s enough incentive to get you there.
— G.J.
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All visits were conducted anonymously and paid for by the Tribune.
See also “Who needs Hilton Head? / We checked into four local resorts close enough to save you some gas, but far enough to still feel like a getaway.,” At Play section, Page 1