The New River, which I mentioned in a post last week, flows east from the historic Everglades to the Atlantic Ocean, passing through the heart of downtown Fort Lauderdale. Like the Miami river to the south, the Hillsboro river to the north, and (I think) the Loxahatchee river at the extreme northern end of the Everglades, the New River was one of the east-west channels known as the transverse glades. These were breaks in the Atlantic Coastal Ridge which, when water behind it (i.e., in the Everglades) was high, transported fresh water from the everglades to the Atlantic Ocean.
At its mouth today, the river is completely channelized, to protect the expensive real estate that it might otherwise moisten with its inconvenient waters. But like much of modern Florida, it has an interesting history.
There are at least two competing versions for how the New River got its name. The county website, broward.org has a fact sheet about the New River that provides this romantic legend about it:
The River’s name can be traced back to its first Native American residents. Legend has it A-la-pa-taw, meaning “The Alligator Man,” sensed a strong earthquake was on the verge of erupting. People ran to their homes fearing the terror that might come. During the night, there were electrical storms, wind, violent and frightening rain— and ultimately— the giant earthquake. The next morning they noticed the world had changed. The dry land had been replaced with a crystal-clear river flowing to the sea. A-la-pa-taw named the river, Himmarshee, which some say means “New River.”
A similar version can be found on the website of the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution:
A long time ago, when the course of New River was only a dense jungle filled with wild beasts, the Indians were awakened one night by thundering noises, a shaking of the Earth, and a wild wind blowing from the southeast. The next morning, they found the river which they called Himmarshee, which was later changed to New River by the white man.
Geologists who have studied the rocks, coral ridges, their peculiar formations and the old Indian legends with later history of New River, believe the story may be true in every detail. The rock ridges show that there was at one time an underground river through the ridge which was an outlet for the Everglades, and at the time of some ancient earthquake, the surface rock crumpled and the river came into being.
(History of Broward County-Sara Crim)
They also provide an interesting description of the river itself, I suppose from one of their members:
Mysterious New River is the deepest stream in Florida, having a depth of ninety feet in many places (one of which is at Tarpon Bend). Other places have a depth of only nine feet, yet it is only eight miles in length and narrow enough to be called a canal in some places.
(Mrs. Leslie Rigdon)
All of this is worth exploring further in the primary literature, and I look forward to heading across the street to the library in my copious free time. (Insert whatever sardonic emoticon you like here…)
The entry in Wikipedia, though, has a slightly different, and perhaps slightly more plausible, origin story:
The historic Seminole name for the River is Himmarshee. … The English name is derived from early explorer’s maps. The mouth of the river was noted for its tendency to continuously change its entry point into the Atlantic Ocean through the shifting sand of the barrier island. Each time the coast was surveyed and charted the entry point would have shifted. So the location of the mouth would not be on any previous maps, and from off the coast would appear as if it had just developed. With each charting, the location would be recorded with the notation “new river”. Since that was the name used on the maps, that was the name by which the first settlers came to know it, so the name stayed.
Like many rivers in Florida, it has both a North and a South fork:
View Larger Map
However it got its name, though, the New River is a lovely sight. I’m sure it would have been even more lovely in times past, before it was channelized and landscaped. But is still preserves some vestiges of natural beauty, and it’s hard even for an environmentalist to deny that there is a certain beauty to the man-dominated landscape that exists in the downtown area.
But if there is any of nature left, you can be sure that Clyde Butcher has found it, as you can see for yourself by going to the Fort Lauderdale airport and looking at the giant photo that’s hanging Terminal 3, or by simply clicking the link and enjoying the smaller version.
One thing that needs to be pointed out about this river, whatever name we know it by now: it has some excellent restaurants in the downtown portion of the flow. The Himmarshee Bar & Grill has a fantastic lunch menu, and it won’t even break the bank! (And no, I have no relationship or affiliation with the restaurant or any of its staff or owners; I just like the food!)
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