On a map (yikes, I’m dating myself) or GPS, the fills and bridges connecting Upper Matecumbe Key and Lower Matecumbe Key are excellent examples of how looks can be deceiving. The 2.5-mile stretch has more to share than it might seem.
In the beginning, the space between the two islands was a vast, open, watery expanse. However, Henry Flagler and his men changed that. The conduit that linked the two islands, the railroad fill, was created using dredges to scoop up the soggy bottom and dump it along a relatively straight line. When sufficient land had been created, the train tracks were hammered into place atop the strip of marl and fill. The train steamed, rocked and rolled down the middle of the fill.
There was a time when both the train and cars rolled over the fill at the same time. The first version of the Overseas Highway opened to automobile traffic in 1927. When it did, the road paralleled the railroad tracks but ran closer to the bayside edge of the fill. The modern highway follows the general path that the train once did.
The train stopped running in 1935 when the Category 5 Labor Day Hurricane raged over the islands and punched holes in Flagler’s line of railroad fill connecting the two islands. It did much worse things, too. When the second version of the Overseas Highway opened in 1938, the span between the Matecumbe Keys was no longer a 2.5-mile stretch of fill. It had been augmented with four automobile bridges.
The first crossed the narrow Tea Table Key Relief Channel and connected Upper Matecumbe Key to the first section of Flagler’s old railroad fill. It is the shortest of the bridges. The name Tea Table is used because of the little island that is just east of the fill. In 1772, the DeBrahm chart identified it as Boys for unknown reasons. On a 1775 chart, George Gauld named it Umbrella Cay. He called it that because of a large, umbrella-shaped tree growing on the island. It became “Teatable” for the first time in the late 1830s, during the second escalation of the Seminole War when, from 1837-1840, the island served as the U.S. Naval Depot Fort Paulding. It was not the only island visible on this short stretch that once served as a military outpost.
Tea Table Key was connected to the Overseas Highway by a causeway circa 1955. The island is privately owned and currently serves as a high-end rental property – hence the gate that is visible when driving past.
Beyond the story of Tea Table Key, the drive over this chunk of fill is brief and rather unremarkable before the road passes over the next channel and the Tea Table Channel Bridge. On the other side is the largest section of the old railroad fill, Indian Key Fill. Like Tea Table, the name Indian Key shows up a lot at this particular spot in the Florida Keys. It is used to identify a section of the fill, the next channel, and the next bridge.
The namesake is the small island sitting in the Atlantic shallows about one mile offshore. Also, on Indian Key Fill is a public kayak launch with five or six parking spaces. Approaching the next bridge, Indian Key sits out in the water like a postcard image. At about 11 acres, what it lacks in size it more than makes up for in local history. Believe it or not, there was a time when Indian Key was the most important island in the Florida Keys not named Key West.
In 1835, it was home to a village of about 140 people. There was a carpenter shop, blacksmith, wharves, two general stores, two three-story warehouses, a restaurant, a hotel and a nine-pin bowling alley. It was also the site of the southernmost attack during the Seminole War and, like Tea Table Key, served as a military base during the second escalation of the Indian War.
Today, the island is home to Indian Key Historic State Park, one of the great Florida Keys gems hiding in plain sight. Though it is only accessible by boat or kayak, visiting it is like stepping back in time. Ruins of the old wrecking village from the 1830s can be seen. Park rangers, too, have placed interpretive panels at important sites around the island.
Indian Key is not the only state park on the horizon. While driving over the Indian Key Channel Bridge, the substantially larger Lignumvitae Key, on the bayside, is also an under-appreciated state park.
Early Spanish charts called it “Cayo de las Lena,” or Firewood Key. On a 1765 British map, it is Jenkinson Island. The name Lignum Vitae Key first appeared on a 1772 chart. The island is named after the lignum vitae tree (Guaicum sanctum), which is said to have grown in the Garden of Eden and is sometimes called the holy tree or the Tree of Life. Some say the Holy Grail was carved from its wood.
Lignumvitae is one of the heaviest hardwood trees and is prone to sinking, not floating. It is exceedingly dense, strong and practically inflammable — as far as wood goes. One thing that makes the island special is that it is one of the few that has retained its virgin hammock. After the state purchased the island in the early 1970s, it was designated Lignumvitae Key State Botanical Site and has been protected ever since.
After the arching Indian Key Bridge, there is a short span of fill before crossing Lignumivate Key Channel, and the last bridge before the road rolls past one of the last great roadside attractions, Robbie’s Marina, and onto Lower Matecumbe Key.
In 2025, I’ll be exploring the Overseas Highway, its history, attractions, and points I find interesting.
