- Privacy
- Terms
- Stay Connected
The morning sun illuminates the stark beauty of Ajo’s landscape, casting long shadows across the open-pit mine that dominates the eastern edge of town. Unlike many of Arizona’s mining communities that flared briefly before fading into ghost towns, Ajo represents a different story—one of remarkable persistence through boom and bust cycles. Nestled in the Sonoran Desert of southwestern Arizona, approximately 43 miles from the Mexican border, this community still stands as a living testament to Arizona’s mining heritage, though much diminished from its heyday. The town’s Spanish name, meaning “garlic” (though some argue it derives from a Tohono O’odham word for paint), reflects the cultural crossroads where Anglo, Mexican, and Native American influences have converged for generations.
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.
Manuel Gonzales spent thirty-two years as a maintenance worker for the Arizona Highway Department, patching potholes, clearing rockslides, and plowing occasional snow from Route 70 between Safford and the New Mexico line. Now in his nineties, Manuel recalls the highway in its prime: “It wasn’t just a road—it was a lifeline. When the big trucks started coming through in the ’40s and ’50s, you could feel the whole valley changing. The world was getting smaller, and we were part of it.”
For the Apache communities along the route, the highway brought both opportunity and intrusion. Clara Lester, an elder from Bylas, remembers how her grandmother would set up a table along the roadside to sell traditional baskets to tourists. “She’d be out there from sunrise until the heat got too bad, waving at cars to get them to stop. On a good day, she might sell three or four baskets—enough to buy groceries for the week. When they moved the highway, that all ended.”
Long-haul truckers developed a special relationship with Route 70, particularly the challenging stretch through the mountains between Globe and Safford. Retired trucker Bill Haney drove the route regularly in the 1960s: “We called it the ‘Gila Monster’ because of how it twisted and turned. You’d be white-knuckling the wheel all the way, especially in bad weather. We had our own unofficial stops—places where you could pull over safely, little diners that would stay open late for us. It wasn’t the easiest drive, but there was a brotherhood of drivers who knew that road.”
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.
Perhaps most fascinating are the stories of those who deliberately sought out Route 70 as an alternative to busier highways. Travel writer Emily Kaufman documented her journey along the route in 1954, writing: “Route 70 offers a Southwest that Route 66 with its trinket shops and tourist traps has already lost. Here, the desert still feels wild, the towns authentic, and the people unaffected by the growing tourism industry. One feels privileged to see this Arizona before progress inevitably changes it forever.”
| 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 | |
| – Amarillo, TX | |
| – 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, Route 70 entered from New Mexico near Duncan, continuing through Safford and Globe before reaching its western terminus at the junction with U.S. Route 60 in Holbrook.
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 previously been a stop on the Butterfield Overland Mail stage route, and later a railroad community, but 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. When the route was eventually realigned away from the community, these economic opportunities diminished substantially.
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 the 1950s when the western terminus was moved from Holbrook to Globe, shortening the Arizona portion considerably. 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. The highway was eventually extended westward to Globe, Safford, and ultimately to I-10 near Lordsburg, New Mexico, giving it new relevance for local traffic while its role as a long-distance route diminished.
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.
Near Bylas, a remarkable ghost segment includes an abandoned bridge structure across a normally dry wash. The bridge itself has been partially dismantled for safety, but its concrete abutments remain, standing like sentinels on either side of the channel. During rare flood events, water still flows beneath this phantom crossing as it has for nearly a century.
Perhaps most poignant are the commercial ruins that still line both active and abandoned portions of the route. Outside Safford, the skeletal remains of the Desert Palm Motor Court rise from the creosote bushes—its adobe walls gradually returning to the earth from which they were formed, while faded paint still advertises “COOL ROOMS” to travelers who no longer pass. 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.
The Graham County Historical Society maintains an extensive archive of photographs, maps, and oral histories related to the highway’s impact on local communities. Their permanent exhibit, “When the Highway Came Through,” chronicles how Route 70 transformed the Gila Valley during the mid-20th century. 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.
More grassroots efforts include the Route 70 Heritage Association, formed in 2012 by former business owners, highway department employees, and history enthusiasts. The group has documented abandoned segments of the original road, advocated for the preservation of remaining roadside structures, and created a detailed guide for those interested in exploring what remains of the historic route.
Transportation archaeologists from Arizona State University have begun systematic documentation of abandoned segments, using LiDAR technology to identify traces of the original route that are no longer visible to the naked eye. Their work has revealed that portions of the highway constructed in the 1930s followed almost exactly the same path as ancient indigenous trails, confirming the persistent influence of geography on human movement through this challenging terrain.
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.
A well-preserved abandoned segment runs parallel to the modern highway for approximately three miles. Accessible from a gravel turnout marked by an inconspicuous historical sign, this stretch offers a tangible connection to the highway’s past. The cracked pavement, faded centerline, and encroaching desert vegetation create a poignant illustration of nature’s slow reclamation of human infrastructure.
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. The Arizona Memory Project has begun digitizing materials related to the highway, making them accessible to researchers and the curious public alike.
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. Safford has incorporated Route 70’s history into its downtown revitalization efforts, with interpretive displays and a walking tour highlighting buildings and businesses connected to the highway era. In Globe, a former gas station has been restored as a visitor center, introducing travelers to the area’s mining and transportation history.
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.