A Postage-Stamp Building In Ochopee, The Florida Everglades And Gators In The Real Alligator Alley
I had heard about it, and at least figured there was a town around it.
But nope, the smallest post office in the United States is located along a two-lane highway that’s more known for wild alligator sightings and as a place to ride on one of those cool airboats in the Florida Everglades.
As a matter of fact, unless you slow down and are on alert to spot it, you’ll see it only as a blur out the side window, saying “oh wait, that’s it!,” as you zoom right by it.
The smallest post office in the USA is a tiny one-room white wooden building on US 41 in South Florida, the old highway that connects the west coast of the state to the east coast just above the Everglades. It’s close to the intersection of State Road 29 and the name of the town, which is somewhere nearby, is Ochopee, FL. The zip code is 34141.
Most people never see or even pass it because they are cruising at 75 mph (at least) on Interstate 75, which runs parallel to the highway. This is known as Alligator Alley, but as I discovered, it’s Highway 41 that should have that name because it has water along both sides of it where you can stop and see gators in the wild.
This, by the way, is slightly intimidating because they see you, too, and very slowly swim toward you just to let you know that they see you.
I’ll have a bite more on the gators in a moment (get it, a bite!?), but for now let’s go to the post office. I was traveling east to west so it was on my left. The dirt parking area is bigger than the actual building, which had no employees in it. It’s really just a big mailbox and I’m sure if any travelers are there when the postman stops to make his daily pickup, he’s a selfie celebrity.
The building is about the size of a, well postage stamp. Okay, not really, but when I stood by it to get my picture, it was barely longer and wider than my spread-out arms.
A historical marker explains its history, that it’s an old irrigation pipe shed that was pressed into service when the Ochopee post office burned down in 1953. It also informs those of us who read historical markers that the building, interestingly enough, also doubled as a ticket office for Trailways buses. How anyone could get to this remote location to catch a Trailways bus in the first place is something to contemplate the rest of the drive on Highway 41.
I did not take Highway 41 specifically to visit the oldest post office in America, but because I wanted something the interstates cannot provide, and that is a travel adventure.
It was great.
I had no idea the airboat businesses were there (riding one in the Everglades is kind of a low-level Bucket List item for me) and I was kind of surprised to discover that the ones I saw were located in old wooden shacks. There were several of them, too, at least a dozen.
I didn’t stop there – didn’t have the time, for I was meeting a friend in Fort Myers – plus, when I found out I could stop and see gators, well, that took instant priority. One place to see them is at a rest stop. I peered over a fence into the water and there was a gator, its tail going v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y back and forth in the water. I moved down the fence a bit and noticed the gator’s head was following me.
I happen to know alligators are very territorial and even though there was a kind of tall grassy bank and a fence separating us, I still felt a tingle run down my spine. Time to leave!
A few miles down the road there was a designated pull-over spot, complete with a wooden walkway overlooking a swamp. A sign explained that it’s “illegal to feed or harass wildlife.” It also contained an illustration with a slash through a circle showing an alligator with its mouth wide open and a stick figure reaching out to feed the gator. The hand of the stick figure person, I noticed, is missing in the illustration.
I stayed there for a few minutes hoping to see a giant gator – one nicknamed Bull or something like that – but did not, so I returned to my drive.
A couple of hours later after arriving in Fort Myers, I had a burger and some beers at the S.O.B. (Smokin’ Oyster Brewery) and a couple stories to tell my friend. I embellished the part about the gators for the “barstool affect,” of course, but could not make the post office seem any bigger than it was because, well, it’s the smallest one in America.
Cheers!
A mile from the post office is in the swamp! Haha. I would love to talk to them about the post office. Thank Charles!
When did you visit? My grandparents used to live about a mile from that post office, their post office, smack dab in the middle of the Big Cypress Preserve, part of the Florida Everglades.