Early in 2019 I had the opportunity to travel to San Francisco for work. I, when given the choice to drive or fly, chose to drive. That’s kind of what I do isn’t it? I want to explore the world, not watch it go by beneath me. Out of all the traveling I’ve done in my life, one place I hadn’t experienced and had always wanted to was the desert Southwest. Given that, of course finding a long, still extant stretch of old US 66 was a major priority. Route 66 is an interesting oddity to me, kind of exposing a strange paradox in my brain. The ideas of old Route 66, the iconic American thoroughfare that represented the economic boon experienced by the post WW2 generation, evokes a nostalgic feeling for me. But…how can you have nostalgia for something you never experienced? Regardless of my mental gymnastics, some research gave me a target stretch of 66 to explore. It’s an approximately 31 mile stretch between Kingman, AZ and Needles, CA.
As it was, I was on a pretty tight schedule. I had to make a 27 hour drive inside of a 48 hour time frame. As my route happened to fall, I stayed the second night of my drive in Kingman, and had to leave out before 5am to make San Francisco by nightfall. So my drive west into the desert on old 66 started out with sunrise at my back. Which was nice. Lots of mesa’s, cacti and red boulders make for some great light/dark contrasts in the morning hours. One of the first things I encountered out of Kingman, just as I started up the elevation change towards the mountain pass was an old service station that fit the stereotypical Route 66 vibe to a T. And I was in heaven. I couldn’t help but edit the photo with a tone that has that 1960’s Kodak Film feel.
I left the old service station and continued west up the mountain. On the east face of the mountain, in a tight hairpin corner…a set of stairs carved into the side of the mountain caught my eye. There was no sign indicating what the steps led to, so naturally I had to stop and see what was at the top…you know, like you do.
At the top, I found something surprising….a freshwater spring. With a sign (finally).
A great many websites and blogs record the history of the spring, so much so that I couldn’t find an original source for citation. But they all tell generally the same story. Sometime in the 1930’s a man by the name of Shaffer, working for the WPA, noticed the spring seeping from the side of the mountain and set about building the small reservoir you see in the photo. Locals were known to keep goldfish in it to keep algae from overtaking the container. Hence, Shaffer’s fish bowl.
With this discovery now firmly located under my belt, I drove on. The next notable thing I came upon was the top of the mountain, at a point just where old 66 changes from its westerly course to a more southerly direction. It’s a place known as Sitgreaves Pass. Just over the pass a stunning vista overlooking the Mojave desert lies before you. I pulled over to take a few pictures, and as I was kicking around I noticed something that looked like a cross in the scrub on a slight hill above me.
As I went up to explore, more and more monuments came into view. Being as that I love history, I immediately thought this was an old cemetery. But as I looked about I couldn’t find any old headstones, only these many small monuments. Some made of cobbled together wood, others painted on rocks. So what does the intrepid explorer of the 21st century do in a scenario like this?
Google it.
As it turns out, this vista offers you a view of 3 states. Arizona, which is where you are, Nevada to the north and California to the south and west. At some point someone thought this would be a good place to spread the ashes of someone they loved, and the practice caught on.
Now there are dozens upon dozens of memorials and, ostensibly, cremated human remains. The gravity of that was not lost on me. Old or new, I was standing in a cemetery of sorts indeed. Some of the memorials were quite touching. One that struck me particularly, was that of two bottle of alcohol placed on a memorial, one empty, assumedly consumed by the yet living, and one unopened…
There were many others, all of them poignant and meaningful to the ones who created them I’m sure.
Finally leaving Sitgreaves pass and continuing on, I found myself surrounded by dilapidated equipment dotting the mountainside. Clearly old mining equipment. Once again, as a history geek, I was in heaven. Unfortunately I was also an alien in a foreign land, and assuming this all to be private property, I did not get out to explore. Soon I found myself in the small village of Oatman, AZ.
Now this place was awesome. Unfortunately, having left Kingman so early, none of the local shops were open, so once again, I didn’t get to do a lot of exploring. But I can tell you this: it’s every bit the abandoned mining town of days gone by. I kid you not, the only signs of life in town were some men with shop brooms sweeping donkey poop off of the streets. Another google revealed that Oatman had a long history of being settled, but boomed from 1915-1917 when a massive gold vein was discovered. It was the catalyst for what has been called the last major gold rush of the mining era.
Moving on from Oatman and its piles of donkey poop, I had to kick things up a notch and get back on schedule. The final leg of the drive was due south towards needles, and offered more beautiful, desolate views of the Mojave desert.
Finally arriving at needles and back at interstate 40, you pass beneath the BNSF railway tracks, formerly the ATSF. Which any of you history nerds or rail fans Know just SCREAMS desert Southwest nostalgia. It is, quite honestly, the perfect end cap to a drive through some of the SW United States most iconic history…from a pop-cultural perspective anyway.
