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U.S. Route 70 first crossed Arizona in 1926 on a northern route from Holbrook through St. Johns and Springerville. In 1935 it was moved south onto the road through Duncan, Safford and Globe, and since 1969 Globe has been its western end, leaving older alignments to fade into the desert.
The history of Route 70 isn’t just about asphalt and engineering—it’s about the people who built it, traveled it, and made their lives along its path.
The highway also witnessed tragedy. Roadside crosses and small memorials still mark the sites of fatal accidents, particularly on dangerous curves or at river crossings that could flood during monsoon seasons. Local newspapers from the highway’s heyday contain numerous accounts of crashes, many involving travelers unfamiliar with the route’s hazards or locals who took its dangers for granted after years of daily driving.
| Aspect | Details |
|---|---|
| Name | U.S. Route 70 (Route 70) |
| Established | 1926 |
| Purpose | To serve as a major east-west highway connecting the southeastern United States to the Southwest, facilitating regional travel and commerce. |
| Route | – Currently runs from Atlantic, North Carolina, to Globe, Arizona. |
| – Crosses 7 states: North Carolina, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona. | |
| Length | Approximately 2,385 miles |
| Eastern Terminus | Atlantic, North Carolina |
| Western Terminus | Globe, Arizona |
| Major Cities Along Route | – Raleigh, NC |
| – Knoxville, TN | |
| – Nashville, TN | |
| – Memphis, TN | |
| – Little Rock, AR | |
| – Clovis, NM | |
| – Globe, AZ | |
| Connection to Arizona | – Route 70 enters Arizona near Lordsburg, New Mexico, and passes through Safford, Pima, and Globe. |
| – Provides access to scenic areas such as the Gila River Valley and Apache Peaks. | |
| Significance | – Served as an important transportation route for commerce, agriculture, and travelers before the Interstate Highway System. |
| – Played a role in connecting rural communities to larger cities and markets. | |
| – Parts of Route 70 were used during the westward migration of the 20th century. | |
| Terrain | – Traverses a variety of landscapes, including coastal plains, Appalachian Mountains, prairies, and deserts. |
| Challenges | – Early travelers faced unpaved roads, steep grades in mountainous areas, and limited services in rural stretches. |
| Modern Status | – Portions of Route 70 have been replaced or paralleled by Interstate highways, such as I-40, I-30, and I-10. |
| – Still serves as a regional highway in many areas, particularly in rural communities. | |
| Legacy | – Remains an important part of the U.S. Highway System, connecting historic towns and cities. |
| – Sections of the road are designated as scenic byways and are popular for road trips and tourism. |
As the morning sun crests over the desert mountains of southeastern Arizona, its golden light illuminates an asphalt ribbon that cuts through the landscape—cracked, weathered, and in places reclaimed by desert vegetation. This fading pathway is a remnant of U.S. Route 70, once a vital artery connecting the Southwest with points east, now largely bypassed, rerouted, and forgotten. In the quiet stillness of dawn, it’s almost possible to hear the echoes of rumbling trucks, family station wagons, and the countless travelers who once traversed this highway during its heyday, when it represented both opportunity and connection for the communities strung along its path.
U.S. Route 70 was officially designated in 1926 as part of America’s first coordinated highway numbering system. Originally extending from North Carolina to Arizona, the highway became one of the primary east-west routes across the southern United States. In Arizona, the original 1926 Route 70 began at U.S. Route 66 in Holbrook and ran south and east through Concho, St. Johns and Springerville into New Mexico; the road from the New Mexico line near Duncan through Safford to Globe was then part of U.S. Route 180.
The path of Route 70 wasn’t created from scratch—like many early U.S. highways, it followed existing transportation corridors with deep historical roots. Parts of the route traced ancient indigenous pathways that had been used for centuries by the Apache and earlier peoples who recognized these natural passages through challenging terrain. Spanish explorers later utilized these same corridors, as did miners, stage coaches, and the Southern Pacific Railroad.
By the time Route 70 received its official designation, portions of the route were already significant local roads, but the new national status brought standardization, improved maintenance, and federal funding that would transform this collection of local thoroughfares into a true highway worthy of long-distance travel.
The 1930s through the 1950s represented the golden age of U.S. Route 70 in Arizona. During this period, the highway served as a critical transportation link for both local communities and through travelers. Unlike the more famous Route 66 which carried Dust Bowl migrants and later vacation travelers across the northern part of the state, Route 70 developed a distinct character as a working highway—a corridor for commerce, mining, agriculture, and the daily movement of Arizona residents.
In Safford, Pima, Thatcher, and other communities along the route, the highway became their main street—the economic and social center of town life. Local businesses flourished along the corridor: motor courts with neon signs promising air conditioning (a revolutionary luxury in the desert heat), diners serving hearty meals to weary travelers, service stations where attendants not only pumped gas but checked oil and washed windshields, and curio shops offering tourists a piece of the exotic Southwest to take home.
The highway transformed the economics of agriculture in the Gila Valley, allowing farmers to ship their cotton, melons, and other produce to wider markets more efficiently than had been possible via the railroad alone. Mining operations around Globe, Miami, and Morenci benefited similarly, with the highway providing a flexible alternative to rail transport for personnel, supplies, and in some cases, ore shipments.
For the average motorist during this era, traveling Route 70 was an adventure—a journey through a landscape that alternated between breathtaking beauty and harsh desolation. The highway climbed from the desert floor up and over mountain passes, wound through canyons, and crossed rivers that could transform from trickling streams to raging torrents during seasonal monsoons. Services were far apart by modern standards, requiring careful planning and a reliable vehicle. Despite these challenges—or perhaps because of them—the route developed a dedicated following among travelers who appreciated its less commercialized character compared to busier highways.
The story of Route 70 is inseparable from the communities it connected, some of which owe their existence or survival to the highway, while others faded when its path changed.
Sitting just inside the Arizona border, Duncan served as the eastern gateway to Route 70 in Arizona. The town had grown up as a farming and railroad community, and the highway brought new prosperity, with service stations and cafes catering to travelers entering or leaving the state.
As the seat of Graham County, Safford represented the largest community along Arizona’s stretch of Route 70. The highway became Main Street through town, lined with businesses that served both locals and travelers. The intersection of Route 70 and what is now Highway 191 formed the commercial heart of the community, with hotels, restaurants, and shops clustered around this vital junction.
These smaller communities in the Gila Valley saw the highway as both blessing and curse. The economic benefits of through traffic helped local businesses thrive, but the increasing volume and speed of vehicles created safety concerns as the highway ran directly through residential and commercial districts.
Route 70 crossed a portion of the San Carlos Apache Reservation, creating complex relationships between the tribe and the state highway system. While the road provided improved access to tribal lands, it also brought increased traffic and development pressures to a community striving to preserve its cultural identity.
This copper mining district was already well-established before Route 70, but the highway strengthened connections between these twin communities and the rest of Arizona. The steep, winding section of the highway between Globe and Miami became notorious among truckers for its challenging curves and grades.
This small Apache community saw its fortunes tied closely to the highway, with tribal artisans setting up roadside stands to sell crafts to passing motorists.
Now little more than a place name on maps, Calva was once an important railroad siding where Route 70 crossed the Gila River. During serious floods, this crossing could become impassable, effectively cutting eastern Arizona off from the rest of the state before modern bridges were constructed.
The decline of U.S. Route 70’s prominence in Arizona came gradually, through a combination of rerouting, interstate construction, and changing travel patterns. Unlike some highways that were completely abandoned when parallel interstates opened, Route 70’s fate was more complex, with sections repurposed, others upgraded, and some truly abandoned.
The first significant change came in 1935, when Route 70 was moved off its Holbrook-Springerville alignment onto the former U.S. 180 through Safford and Globe and extended west with U.S. 60, eventually reaching Los Angeles. In the following decades, numerous realignments straightened dangerous curves, bypassed small communities, and generally moved the highway away from its original path.
The most profound change came with the completion of Interstate 10 across southern Arizona in the 1960s and 1970s. While not directly parallel to all of Route 70, the interstate offered a faster alternative for east-west travel, drawing away much of the through traffic that had once made the highway economically vital. Travelers increasingly opted for the higher speeds and better services of the interstate system, leaving Route 70 primarily to local traffic.
As traffic diminished, businesses along the original route struggled. Motor courts were repurposed as long-term rental apartments or abandoned entirely. Restaurants and service stations closed their doors, unable to sustain operations with decreased customer volume. The neon signs went dark, buildings deteriorated, and in some cases, were reclaimed by the desert.
Yet unlike some completely abandoned routes, significant portions of Route 70 continued to function as important regional corridors. After California dropped the route in 1964, U.S. 70 ended at the Colorado River at Ehrenberg until 1969, when it was cut back to its present western terminus at Globe, leaving it primarily a regional link between Globe, the Gila Valley and New Mexico.
Today, the original pathway of Route 70 exists as a patchwork of modern highway, repurposed local roads, and truly abandoned segments that stand as monuments to changing transportation needs.
One of the most haunting abandoned segments lies east of Safford, where a previous alignment of the highway has been completely bypassed by the modern route. Here, the old roadway remains visible—cracked asphalt overtaken by desert vegetation, with the occasional remnant of a guardrail or culvert offering mute testimony to its former purpose. In some places, the only indication of the road’s existence is a slightly raised berm across the desert floor, visible primarily from the air or to the highly observant ground traveler.
Between Globe and Miami, portions of the original highway cling precariously to steep hillsides, now serving as access roads to residential areas or mining facilities. The sharp curves and narrow width of these segments reveal the different engineering standards of an earlier era when speeds were lower and vehicles smaller.
Perhaps most poignant are the commercial ruins that still line both active and abandoned portions of the route. Similar ruins dot the route, from collapsed gas stations to the concrete pad foundations of buildings long since removed, each telling part of the story of Route 70’s rise and decline.
While much of historic Route 70 has been lost to realignment, repurposing, or abandonment, efforts to document and preserve its legacy have emerged in recent decades.
Local organizations such as the Graham County Historical Society collect the history of the Gila Valley communities the highway connected. Historical markers at key points along the current highway briefly explain the route’s significance, though many travelers pass them by without stopping in their rush to reach destinations.
For preservation advocates, the greatest challenge remains balancing modern transportation needs with historical significance. When the Arizona Department of Transportation considers improvements to active portions of Route 70, historical impact is now among the factors evaluated, potentially preserving features that would once have been automatically removed during upgrades.
Unlike Route 66, which has benefited from national recognition and extensive preservation programs, Route 70’s historical significance remains primarily recognized at the local level. Yet this lower profile has certain advantages, allowing exploration of a more authentic, less commercialized piece of highway history.
For those interested in experiencing the ghost segments of Route 70 firsthand, several particularly accessible and rewarding sections can be explored with proper preparation.
Between Globe and Miami, portions of the original route now serve as local roads, identifiable by their narrower width and sharper curves compared to the modern highway. The old downtown districts of both communities preserve many buildings that once served highway travelers, though most have been repurposed for new uses.
For the most dedicated route hunters, faint traces of the original highway can be found near Fort Thomas, where a realignment in the 1950s created one of the longest abandoned segments. This area requires proper preparation, as it crosses private and tribal lands where permission may be needed for access. The terrain is challenging, water sources nonexistent, and summer temperatures dangerous, making this exploration suitable only for experienced desert hikers with appropriate vehicles and equipment.
When exploring these ghost segments, visitors should observe important ethical guidelines:
As Arizona continues to grow and its transportation needs evolve, what will become of the remaining traces of historic Route 70?
Active portions of the highway face ongoing pressure for widening, straightening, and other improvements to accommodate increasing traffic and enhance safety. These changes, while necessary for modern transportation, often erase features that connect the route to its past. However, growing awareness of transportation heritage has led to more considerate approaches to such improvements, with efforts to document historical features before they’re altered and occasionally to incorporate heritage elements into new designs.
Truly abandoned segments face a different future, gradually disappearing as natural processes reclaim them. Without human maintenance, desert environments make quick work of asphalt, concrete, and even steel. Flooding reshapes the land, vegetation cracks pavement, and sand buries the remnants. This natural reclamation represents its own form of historical process—the latest chapter in the long relationship between human pathways and the Arizona landscape.
Digital preservation offers another approach to keeping Route 70’s legacy alive. Detailed mapping, 3D scanning of remaining structures, collection of oral histories, and compilation of historical photographs create a virtual archive that will outlast the physical remnants.
Perhaps the most promising future lies in heritage tourism, as travelers increasingly seek authentic connections to the past. While Route 70 may never achieve the iconic status of Route 66, its lower profile offers a more genuine experience of highway history, free from the commercialization that has transformed portions of better-known historic routes.
For communities along the highway, this heritage represents both a connection to their own past and a potential economic opportunity.
As we stand on an abandoned segment of Route 70, the crumbling asphalt beneath our feet represents more than just an outdated transportation artifact. It embodies a particular moment in Arizona’s development—when automobile travel was transforming the relationship between communities, reshaping local economies, and connecting previously isolated regions to the wider world.
The highway’s path persists in multiple forms: as modern Route 70, still serving the transportation needs of eastern Arizona; as repurposed local roads, their original purpose largely forgotten by daily users; as truly abandoned segments slowly returning to the earth; and as memories in the minds of those who experienced the route in its heyday.
This persistence speaks to something fundamental about human movement through the landscape. The path that became Route 70 was not arbitrary—it followed natural corridors determined by topography, water availability, and the practical needs of travelers. Before there was a numbered highway, there were wagon roads; before wagon roads, indigenous trails; before trails, game paths. The same geographical logic that guided ancient travelers continues to influence modern movement, creating a continuity that transcends the specific form of the pathway.
In this sense, the ghost segments of Route 70 connect us not just to the mid-20th century era of automobile travel, but to all those who moved through this landscape before—a palimpsest of human journey written across the Arizona desert. As modern travelers rush along Interstate 10 or the improved sections of current Route 70, few realize they are following a path established by countless travelers who came before, each adaptation of the route reflecting the technology, needs, and values of its time.
The abandoned segments stand as monuments to this ongoing story, reminding us that today’s essential infrastructure may likewise someday be bypassed, forgotten, and reclaimed by the desert. Yet the path itself—the connection between places—remains, taking new forms as human needs evolve. In this persistence lies the true legacy of Route 70 and all ghost highways: not just where they went, but why they went there, and how they connected the people and places along their journey.