Port Mayaca

Port Mayaca (pronounced port my-ak-kuh, in case you were wondering, though why you would be is beyond me) is less a "place" and more a geographical shrug, nestled in the western reaches of Martin County, Florida, United States. It clings to the eastern edge of Lake Okeechobee with the quiet desperation of a forgotten sock. "Sparsely populated" is a generous term; one might say it’s where solitude goes to feel crowded.

The name itself is a whisper from a time long past, a tribute to the indigenous Mayaca Tribe who once graced this land before history decided to move on without them. Port Mayaca anchors itself just south of the rather imposing Port Mayaca Lock and Dams on the Okeechobee Waterway (more commonly known as the St. Lucie Canal). Its precise coordinates, if you're ever lost and desperately need to find exactly nowhere, are at the junction of S.W. Kanner Highway, which is State Road 76, and S.W. Gaines Highway, which, for reasons only the Department of Transportation can explain, is signed simultaneously as State Road 15, U.S. Route 441, and U.S. Route 98. A veritable spaghetti junction for those who enjoy unnecessary complexity.

Within this rather desolate intersection, you'll find a collection of structures that barely qualify as "houses and businesses." Most of these scant establishments are strung out along Gaines Highway, stretching north and south, or venturing a short distance east along Kanner Highway, like reluctant pioneers. A notable exception to this architectural modesty is Cypress Lodge, which, for decades, held the distinction of being the sole inn in Port Mayaca. Perhaps it was the only one brave enough to try. Its historical significance was finally acknowledged in November 2008 when it was rightfully added to the National Register of Historic Places, a testament to its enduring, if lonely, presence. One can only imagine the stories those walls could tell, stories probably as laconic as the landscape itself.

Post office

Even the post office, that stalwart symbol of civic permanence, found Port Mayaca too challenging. The Port Mayaca post office, established with an optimistic flourish on June 7, 1928, ultimately surrendered to the inevitable on June 30, 1958. After its rather unceremonious discontinuation, the mail, along with any remaining hopes, was rerouted to the Canal Point post office in neighboring Palm Beach County. To this day, the majority of Port Mayaca's mail delivery continues its pilgrimage from Canal Point, a small bureaucratic inconvenience that perfectly encapsulates the area's peripheral existence.

Port Mayaca Cemetery

Located a mere handful of miles east of that aforementioned intersection of highways, lies the Port Mayaca Cemetery. This isn't just any cemetery; it's a stark, somber testament to one of Florida’s most brutal historical oversights. In 1928, this site was chosen, not out of convenience, but out of necessity, for the mass burial of over 1,600 unidentified souls. These were the victims, largely unheard and unseen, who perished in the western reaches of Palm Beach County as a direct consequence of an unnamed Category 5 hurricane in September of that year. The catastrophe was compounded by the subsequent, catastrophic flooding that swept through the region after the earthen dikes, which were supposed to contain Lake Okeechobee, simply gave way.

The scale of the tragedy was immense, a stark reminder of nature's indifference and humanity's vulnerability. The hurricane, later officially designated the 1928 Okeechobee Hurricane, remains one of the deadliest natural disasters in American history, its impact often overshadowed by more 'celebrated' storms. The decision to bury the unidentified victims here was a grim logistical solution to an overwhelming humanitarian crisis.

Originally, the cemetery was managed by a trust established by the nearby, slightly more bustling cities of Belle Glade, Pahokee, and South Bay. However, since 1992, the burden of its operation has fallen solely to the city of Pahokee. It stands as a quiet, yet profoundly significant, memorial, a place where history’s forgotten echoes still resonate, whether you choose to listen or not.

See also

• 1928 Okeechobee Hurricane – Because some lessons bear repeating, even if humanity rarely learns them.
• Mayaca (tribe) – The original inhabitants, whose name lingers like a ghost in the landscape.
• Myakka City, Florida – A settlement in eastern Manatee County, offering a slightly altered spelling of the same ancestral name. Apparently, naming originality wasn't a priority.
• Old Miakka, Florida – A pioneer-era settlement in eastern Sarasota County, sharing the exact same pronunciation for this variant-spelled name. The echoes of history, or just a lack of imagination, persist.

Resources

• Nash, Jay Robert, Darkest Hours, Chicago: Nelson-Hall, 1976, pp. 321–322.