09/18/2026
Check this out - Spruce Bluff story.
📌 Spruce Bluff Settlement (3 of 3) — Port St. Lucie, Florida
📍 27°15′32.64″N 80°19′57.74″W
At one end of this preserve sits a mound that's survived roughly 2,000 years. At the other end, a town founded 135 years ago has almost completely vanished.
Before Port St. Lucie existed, there was Spruce Bluff, a tiny riverfront community of homesteaders, pineapple growers, fishermen, a sawmill, a school, and a church. The first organized non-Native settlement within what is now Port St. Lucie began here in the early 1890s.
Widower John Enos Fultz arrived from Rockledge in September 1891 and homesteaded 160 acres along Winter Creek, now known as Blakeslee Creek. Fultz petitioned for a post office, and the name Spruce Bluff was adopted for the little settlement growing along the North Fork of the St. Lucie River. Transportation revolved entirely around the water, John Calhoun reportedly carried mail aboard a 20-foot schooner-rigged boat, picking it up around Sewall's Point and bringing it north along the river.
Others followed. Charles D. Blakeslee arrived in 1893 and homesteaded nearby. Lloyd G. Hill and his family raised bees and grew pineapples, while Hill also worked as a photographer and published the American Beekeeper. William F. and Harley A. Crews ran a sawmill here during the late 1890s, working the stands of pine and cypress in the area. Pineapple and citrus cultivation became part of the community's brief life, a school opened in 1896, taught by a young woman from Tennessee known as Miss Heath, and a small Methodist church eventually held services twice a month.
Spruce Bluff never grew into a large town. The devastating freezes of 1894–95 discouraged many early settlers, and families gradually moved elsewhere. Fultz eventually relocated to Fort Pierce and, after St. Lucie County was created in 1905, became its first Clerk of the Court.
Today, almost nothing resembling a settlement remains. A small monument commemorating the Spruce Bluff Early Pioneer Settlement survives along the trail, associated with the burial place of several members of the community, but the woods have reclaimed the former homesteads, fields, and paths.
Look closely at the LiDAR, though, and the modern forest disappears, exposing a landscape crossed by old linear disturbances, cleared or modified ground, and subtle features largely invisible in ordinary aerial photography. Not every feature here can automatically be assigned to the 1890s settlement, especially after more than a century of subsequent land use, but LiDAR gives us a remarkable way to examine the terrain that community once stood on.
The contrast with the previous post in this series is striking. An Indigenous mound has survived here for roughly two thousand years. A settlement founded only about 135 years ago has almost completely disappeared.
Sometimes the oldest feature on a landscape is the one that survives.