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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.
| Aspect | Details |
|---|---|
| Name | United Verde & Pacific Railway (UV&P) |
| Established | 1895 |
| Purpose | Built to transport copper ore from the mines in Jerome, Arizona, to the smelters in Jerome Junction, where it connected with the Santa Fe, Prescott and Phoenix Railway. |
| Route | – Ran from Jerome, Arizona, to Jerome Junction, near Chino Valley, Arizona. |
| – Distance: Approximately 26 miles. | |
| Construction Challenges | – The terrain between Jerome and Jerome Junction was steep and rugged, requiring extensive engineering. |
| – The route included 186 curves, some with a radius as tight as 20 degrees, and grades as steep as 4.5%. | |
| – Known as one of the most crooked and steep railroads in the U.S. | |
| Ownership | Built and operated by the United Verde Copper Company, owned by mining magnate William A. Clark. |
| Key Stops | – Jerome, Arizona (the mining hub). |
| – Jerome Junction (mainline connection to larger rail networks). | |
| Primary Cargo | – Copper ore from the rich deposits in Jerome. |
| – Supplies and equipment for the mining operations. | |
| Significance | – Critical to the success of the United Verde Copper Company, which was one of the largest copper producers in the world during its peak. |
| – Allowed Jerome’s copper to reach national and international markets. | |
| – Played a key role in the growth of Jerome as a mining town and economic hub in northern Arizona. | |
| Decline | – In the early 20th century, the construction of a new smelter in Clarkdale, Arizona, made the UV&P unnecessary. |
| – The Verde Valley Railroad (built in 1912) was a more efficient connection between Clarkdale and major rail networks. | |
| – The UV&P ceased operations in 1920, and the tracks were eventually dismantled. | |
| Legacy | – Known for its engineering feats and the challenges of building and operating a railroad in such difficult terrain. |
| – Remnants of the UV&P, such as old grades and structures, can still be found in the Jerome area, attracting railroad and mining history enthusiasts. | |
| – Part of the broader history of railroads supporting Arizona’s mining industry. | |
| Modern Status | – The UV&P no longer exists, but its role in Jerome’s history is commemorated in local museums, such as the Jerome State Historic Park. |
| – The town of Jerome has transitioned into a tourist destination, preserving its mining and railroad heritage. | |
| Cultural Impact | – Highlighted the importance of railroads in Arizona’s economic development during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. |
| – Helped establish Jerome’s reputation as the “Wickedest Town in the West” during its mining boom. |
Long before European settlement, indigenous peoples established trade routes through Arizona’s Verde Valley, with Sinagua and later Yavapai and Apache trails connecting mineral sources, water, and seasonal gathering grounds. Spanish explorers noted copper outcroppings around what would become Jerome in the late 18th century, though they never developed these resources. It wasn’t until the 1870s, when General Crook’s military road made the region more accessible, that American prospectors began serious exploration of the mineralized area around Cleopatra Hill.
The establishment of the United Verde Copper Company in 1883, and its acquisition by William A. Clark in 1888, created the economic impetus for a dedicated railway. Clark, a Montana copper magnate and future U.S. Senator, recognized that the rich deposits at Jerome could never reach their full potential without improved transportation. The existing method—hauling ore by mule-drawn wagons down treacherous mountain roads to the nearest railhead at Ash Fork, then shipping via the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad—proved prohibitively expensive and limited production capacity.
The topographical challenges were daunting. Jerome clung to the side of Mingus Mountain at an elevation of 5,000 feet, while the Verde Valley floor lay 2,000 feet below. Any railway connecting these points would need to navigate this elevation change within a horizontal distance of less than four miles—requiring grades far steeper than standard railway practices allowed. The solution came in the form of narrow-gauge technology, with tracks just three feet apart instead of the standard 4 feet 8.5 inches, allowing for tighter curves and steeper grades than conventional railways.
F.A. Tritle, former Arizona territorial governor and mining investor, incorporated the United Verde & Pacific Railway Company in 1894, with construction beginning almost immediately. Chief Engineer LaRue Riggs designed an audacious route that would descend the mountain through a series of switchbacks, curves, and loops—including the famous “S” curve where the track formed nearly a complete figure-eight to gain distance while managing the grade. Construction crews, primarily Mexican and Italian laborers, completed the 26-mile line in just 11 months despite the challenging terrain, opening the railway for service on January 24, 1895.
The economic impact was immediate and transformative. What had been a modest mining operation suddenly had a direct connection to national markets. Ore production increased exponentially, from approximately 500 tons monthly before the railway to over 3,000 tons monthly by 1896. Jerome’s population exploded, growing from a few hundred residents to over 3,000 by the turn of the century. The UV&P handled not just outbound copper ore but inbound machinery, lumber, supplies, and passengers, transforming Jerome from an isolated mountain outpost into a booming industrial center.
Today, the physical remnants of the UV&P create a ghost corridor winding from Jerome Junction (near present-day Chino Valley) to the town of Jerome itself. Unlike some abandoned rail lines that have been completely obliterated by development, significant portions of this route remain remarkably intact—a testament to both the substantial engineering invested in its construction and the remote, rugged terrain that has protected it from human disturbance.
The journey begins at the site of Jerome Junction, where the UV&P once connected with the Santa Fe, Prescott & Phoenix Railway (later the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe). Little remains visible here except slight depressions in the earth and scattered rail hardware, as the junction area has been largely reclaimed by agricultural development. More substantial evidence emerges as the route continues southward toward Mingus Mountain, particularly as it enters Prescott National Forest lands.
Along Hell Canyon, several impressive wooden trestle footings remain, their massive stone blocks still firmly in place despite the wooden superstructures having long since collapsed or been salvaged. The Summit Section, where the line crossed the mountain ridge at an elevation of nearly 7,000 feet, features substantial rock cuts blasted through solid limestone—their vertical walls still showing drill marks from the hand tools used by construction crews more than a century ago.
The most dramatic and accessible remnants appear along the descent from Summit to Jerome, where the line navigated the steepest portion of the mountain through an intricate series of switchbacks and curves. Here, substantial sections of roadbed remain clearly visible, following an improbable path that seems to defy gravity as it traverses the mountainside. At several points, hikers can still identify the unique “figure 8” configurations where the track looped back over itself to gain distance while managing the grade.
Near the location of the former Mescal siding, approximately halfway down the mountain, concrete foundations mark where a water tank once stood. This crucial facility provided water for the thirsty steam locomotives that labored up the steep grade. Metal debris scattered around the site—including valve components, pipe sections, and the occasional tool—offers archaeological evidence of the mechanical operations that once sustained this transportation lifeline.
In Jerome itself, the former depot location has been incorporated into the Jerome State Historic Park, housed in the mansion of James S. Douglas (son of mining engineer and Arizona pioneer Lewis Douglas). While the original depot building no longer stands, interpretive displays include photographs, artifacts, and a scale model showing how the narrow-gauge line wound through the community. The nearby Jerome Historical Society Mining Museum displays additional artifacts from the railway, including a restored ore car, tools used in track maintenance, and the telegraph key from the Jerome depot.
The most accessible section for modern exploration follows the old grade between Jerome and the former Hopewell Tunnel, where a portion of the roadbed has been incorporated into the Prescott National Forest trail system. This moderately difficult hike offers spectacular views across the Verde Valley while passing several substantial engineering features, including rock cuts, the remnants of a small trestle, and several switchbacks. Interpretive signs installed by the Forest Service identify key features and explain their historical significance, making this section particularly rewarding for visitors interested in transportation archaeology.
Behind the physical infrastructure lie human stories that bring the UV&P to life—tales of the workers who built and operated the railroad, the communities that depended on it, and the passengers who experienced Arizona’s rugged landscape from the precarious perch of narrow-gauge coaches.
The construction of the line itself represents a remarkable human achievement. Led by Chief Engineer LaRue Riggs, construction crews—predominantly Mexican laborers with experience in both mining and railroad work—completed the 26-mile route in just 11 months between 1894 and 1895. This feat appears all the more impressive considering the challenging terrain and the fact that much of the work relied on hand tools, black powder blasting, and mule-drawn scrapers rather than modern machinery.
Oral histories collected from descendants of these workers reveal the dangerous conditions they faced. Miguel Vasquez, whose grandfather helped build the line, recounted family stories of men suspended in bosun’s chairs hundreds of feet above canyon floors to drill blasting holes for trestle footings. Workers lived in temporary canvas camps that followed construction progress, often working seven days a week during favorable weather to complete sections before winter storms made mountain work impossible.
Once operational, the railroad created unique occupational challenges. The steep grades (reaching 4.5% in places, far exceeding the 2% maximum on standard railways) and tight curves required specialized skills from engine crews. Locomotives were carefully weighted and balanced to prevent derailments on curves, while brakemen needed to react quickly to control speed on downgrades where momentum could quickly become dangerous.
Engineer William “Billy” Breck became something of a local legend for his mastery of the difficult line. Having previously operated mountain railroads in Colorado, Breck brought valuable experience to the UV&P. His daily logs, preserved in the Jerome Historical Society archives, document the constant vigilance required: “May 18, 1897: Departed Summit at 10:15 AM with five ore cars and coach. Applied continuous braking through S-curve due to wet rails from morning rain. Discovered loose rock on track at mile 14, stopped to clear. Arrived Jerome on schedule despite delays.”
The passenger experience on the UV&P offered equal measures of terror and delight. The journey from Jerome Junction to Jerome typically took between two and three hours for the 26-mile trip—an agonizingly slow average of 10 miles per hour. Yet passengers didn’t complain about the pace, instead marveling at (or recoiling from) the spectacular views and precipitous drops visible from the coach windows. Travel writer Ernest Ingersoll, visiting in 1898, described the journey as “a continuous series of thrills as the tiny train creeps along ledges where a misstep would send it tumbling a thousand feet into the canyon below, yet affording the most magnificent panoramas of mountain and desert that could be imagined.”
The railroad also shaped Jerome’s development and social dynamics. As the primary transportation link, the UV&P determined what arrived in Jerome and what left—from food supplies to furniture, mail to missionaries, prostitutes to prohibition agents. The daily arrival of the train became a community ritual, with merchants, hotel operators, and ordinary citizens gathering at the depot to see who or what might arrive from the outside world.
This transportation lifeline even influenced Jerome’s physical development, with the community growing along and around the railway’s sinuous path through town. Buildings often incorporated the grade changes necessitated by the railway, with multi-story structures featuring ground-level entrances on different floors depending on which side of the track they faced. This distinctive architectural pattern remains visible in Jerome today, long after the tracks themselves have been removed.
For William A. Clark, the railway’s primary financial backer and owner of the United Verde Copper Company, the UV&P represented both a practical transportation solution and a statement of industrial power. Clark, whose rivalry with copper magnate Marcus Daly became legendary in Montana mining circles, viewed the technically challenging railway as a demonstration of his engineering prowess and financial resources. His occasional visits to inspect the line became major events in Jerome, with the community’s elite eager to impress the man who controlled their economic destiny.
The United Verde & Pacific Railway’s decline unfolded through several distinct phases, beginning well before its final abandonment. Like many specialized mining railroads, it ultimately fell victim to changing economic circumstances, technological evolution, and the development of alternative transportation routes.
The first challenge came from its own success. By 1900, the narrow-gauge line’s capacity was being strained by increasing ore production at Jerome. The tight curves and lightweight rails limited both train length and speed, creating a transportation bottleneck that threatened to constrain the mines’ productivity. William Clark, never satisfied with limitations, began exploring alternatives even as the UV&P continued daily operations.
The solution emerged with the construction of the Verde Valley Railroad, a standard-gauge branch of the Santa Fe system completed in 1911. This new line followed a more gradual route up the mountain to Jerome, connecting to the main Santa Fe line at Drake rather than Jerome Junction. While the route was significantly longer (38 miles versus the UV&P’s 26), its standard-gauge construction allowed for heavier trains and larger ore cars, substantially increasing capacity.
For a brief period, both railways operated simultaneously, with the UV&P primarily handling passenger service and light freight while the Verde Valley line moved copper ore. This arrangement proved short-lived. In 1920, the UV&P suspended regular passenger service, operating only on an as-needed basis for special shipments and occasional excursions. By 1927, with automobile roads improving and truck transport becoming more reliable, the decision was made to abandon the line entirely.
The final run took place on October 10, 1927, nearly thirty-three years after construction began. Local accounts describe a somewhat melancholy affair, with a decorated locomotive pulling a single passenger coach carrying railroad employees, local officials, and a few longtime Jerome residents who had arrived on the first train decades earlier. Small groups gathered at former stations and sidings along the route, waving farewell to what had once been their community’s lifeline.
Salvage operations began almost immediately. Work crews removed rails, spikes, and other reusable material, shipping them to other Clark mining operations in Montana and Utah. Trestle timbers were harvested for construction projects in Jerome or as firewood for homes facing the Great Depression. By 1930, only the roadbed, stone culverts, and concrete foundations remained as evidence of the engineering marvel that had once traversed the mountain.
Nature began the slow process of reclamation, with vegetation gradually encroaching on the right-of-way. Periodic wildfires swept portions of the route, destroying wooden remnants that had escaped salvage operations. Erosion attacks continued, washing out sections of roadbed during monsoon seasons and gradually obscuring the human modifications to the landscape.
Yet remarkably, significant portions endured. The substantial rock cuts proved resistant to natural forces, while the carefully engineered drainage systems continued functioning long after abandonment, protecting sections of the grade from catastrophic washouts. The most visible segments remained along the steepest portions of the descent into Jerome, where the unique pattern of switchbacks and curves had required the most significant earth-moving during construction.
The Great Depression and World War II diverted attention and resources from heritage preservation, leaving the abandoned right-of-way largely forgotten except by local residents who incorporated segments into informal trails and shortcuts. It wasn’t until the post-war tourism boom and growing interest in ghost towns that the UV&P began receiving recognition as a significant historical resource rather than simply an abandoned industrial site.
Today, the abandoned United Verde & Pacific route serves as a linear archaeological site documenting important aspects of Arizona’s industrial and transportation history. Its significance extends beyond mere nostalgic interest, offering tangible connections to economic, social, and technological developments that shaped the modern Southwest.
From an engineering perspective, the UV&P represents a masterpiece of narrow-gauge railway design, demonstrating how creative solutions could overcome seemingly impossible topographical challenges. The innovative use of switchbacks, spiral curves, and strategic grades exemplifies the ingenuity of late 19th century civil engineers working without modern computational tools or machinery. Several features, including the famous “S” curve and the Summit section, have been documented by the Historic American Engineering Record as significant examples of mountain railway construction.
For Jerome, the railway remains a fundamental part of local identity and historical narrative. Though the tracks were removed nearly a century ago, the community’s development, architecture, and even its current existence as a tourist destination all trace back to the transportation access the UV&P provided. Without this crucial link connecting Jerome to national markets and supply chains, the community might have remained a minor mining camp rather than developing into the substantial industrial center that later successfully transitioned to heritage tourism.
The railway’s path through diverse ecological zones—from high desert grasslands to pine forests to mineralized mountain slopes—created an unintentional biological corridor that has facilitated wildlife movement and plant dispersion. Environmental studies have identified higher biodiversity along portions of the abandoned right-of-way compared to surrounding areas, as the linear disturbance created unique edge habitats and microenvironments that support diverse species assemblages.
For the Yavapai and Apache peoples, whose traditional territories encompassed the railway route, the UV&P represented a complex historical development. While its construction furthered the industrial exploitation of lands they considered sacred, the railroad also created employment opportunities and eventually facilitated cultural exchange. Contemporary tribal interpretive programs at the Yavapai-Apache Cultural Center in Camp Verde acknowledge this complexity, incorporating the railway into broader narratives about adaptation and resilience during a period of profound change for indigenous communities.
Recognizing these multiple significance factors, portions of the UV&P route have received formal historical designation. The Jerome Historic District, listed as a National Historic Landmark in 1967, includes railway features within its boundaries and interpretive materials. Additionally, segments of the route passing through Prescott National Forest have been documented as heritage resources receiving protection under federal cultural resource management provisions.
While much of the UV&P route has been left to gradual reclamation by natural processes, several segments have benefited from conservation efforts and adaptive reuse initiatives. These projects demonstrate how abandoned transportation corridors can find new purpose while preserving their historical character.
The most successful conversion exists in the four-mile segment between Jerome and the Summit, now developed as the UV&P Trail within Prescott National Forest. This moderately challenging hiking path follows the old railroad grade, taking advantage of its engineered contours to provide a stable route with spectacular views across the Verde Valley. Interpretive signs identify remaining railway features while explaining their historical context, creating an outdoor museum of industrial heritage.
In Jerome itself, several buildings that once served railway functions have been repurposed while maintaining their historical character. The former railway offices now house a small museum focused on transportation history, while a section of reconstructed track with a replica ore car provides a popular photo opportunity for tourists. Annual “Railroad Days” events feature historical reenactors, model railroad displays, and guided interpretive hikes that attract heritage tourists to the community.
Conservation efforts have focused particularly on stabilizing vulnerable sections of the route that face erosion threats. The Forest Service has reconstructed several drainage culverts along the trail section, using historically appropriate dry-stone techniques to maintain the visual character while improving functionality. Local conservation groups organize annual volunteer workdays to clear vegetation from significant features, document condition changes, and perform minor maintenance on interpretive installations.
The former Jerome Junction site has received less attention, with most physical evidence now obscured by agricultural development. However, a small roadside monument installed by the Arizona Department of Transportation marks the approximate location, with a brief historical plaque explaining the site’s significance in regional transportation networks.
These preservation efforts face ongoing challenges, particularly regarding funding sustainability and balancing access with resource protection. Climate change presents additional threats, as increasing frequency of extreme weather events—particularly flash floods and wildfires—endangers structures that have already weathered over a century of Arizona’s harsh conditions. The linear nature of the resource, stretching across multiple jurisdictions and land ownership patterns, further complicates coordinated preservation planning.
Despite these challenges, the UV&P has become something of a model for railroad heritage preservation in the Southwest. Its combination of accessible segments for casual visitors and more remote sections appealing to dedicated history enthusiasts provides multiple engagement opportunities. Documentation projects, including professional archaeological surveys and citizen science initiatives, continue to record features before they disappear—creating a comprehensive inventory of this transportation landscape.
For those interested in experiencing Arizona’s ghost railways firsthand, the United Verde & Pacific offers accessible options ranging from casual afternoon exploration to challenging backcountry adventures. Regardless of which segments you choose to visit, approaching these historical resources with appropriate knowledge and respect enhances both the visitor experience and helps preserve these fragile reminders of transportation history.
The UV&P Trail between Jerome and the Summit provides the most developed access to the former railroad, with designated parking areas, interpretive signage, and a maintained pathway suitable for intermediate hikers. The Jerome Historical Society (open daily from 9 AM to 5 PM) offers guidebooks, maps, and occasional guided tours that provide historical context and identify features that might otherwise go unnoticed.
For those seeking to explore more remote segments, preparation becomes essential. Much of the right-of-way crosses public lands administered by the National Forest Service, where access is generally permitted but facilities are non-existent. Visitors should carry adequate water, sun protection, and navigation tools. Summer exploration is discouraged due to heat and potential for monsoon storms, with spring and fall offering more comfortable and safer conditions.
Several ethical considerations should guide any visit to Arizona’s ghost railways. Archaeological resources along the route—from industrial artifacts to the personal items of railroad workers—are protected by various federal and state laws. Visitors should photograph rather than collect such materials, ensuring that the context and information they provide remains intact for future researchers and visitors.
The structural safety of abandoned railway features presents another important consideration. Culverts, tunnels, and foundations along the route have deteriorated over decades of abandonment and exposure to harsh environmental conditions. Viewing these features from established trails and paths provides a similar historical connection without endangering either visitors or the structures themselves.
Wildlife has reclaimed many portions of the route, with various segments providing habitat for sensitive species including peregrine falcons and black bears. Visitors should minimize disturbance to these animals, particularly during breeding seasons or extreme weather conditions when additional stress could prove harmful. Maintaining appropriate distance from wildlife and properly storing food prevents dangerous habituation while ensuring continued coexistence along the historic corridor.
Photography of the route and its features is generally permitted and encouraged for personal documentary purposes, though commercial photography may require permits depending on jurisdiction. Many railway enthusiasts and historians contribute their photographs to archives and documentation projects, creating a valuable visual record of features that continue to deteriorate or disappear with each passing year.
Visitors seeking deeper historical context should consider beginning their exploration at the Jerome State Historic Park, where comprehensive exhibits place the railway within broader patterns of mining development and community formation. The park’s knowledgeable staff can provide current trail conditions and specific recommendations based on visitors’ interests and ability levels.
As afternoon shadows lengthen across the abandoned grades and weathered cuts of the United Verde & Pacific Railway, these industrial remnants stand as eloquent witnesses to one of Arizona’s most remarkable transportation achievements. What contemporary observers once called “the crookedest line in the world” now exists primarily as a memory etched into the mountainside—a physical reminder that even the most impressive infrastructure ultimately fades as technologies and economies evolve.
The story of this ghost railway reflects larger patterns in Western American development, where transportation corridors not only connected communities but often determined their very viability. The same winding rails that transformed Jerome from an isolated mountain outpost into a booming industrial center also created a vulnerability to external economic forces and corporate decisions. When copper prices fluctuated or new transportation technologies emerged, communities built around specific infrastructure found themselves suddenly at risk—their economic foundation undermined by the same forces of “progress” that had once created it.
Yet even in abandonment, these pioneer pathways maintain a ghostly influence on the landscape they traverse. The engineered grades still channel seasonal floodwaters, the cuts provide microhabitats for specialized plant communities, and the visible right-of-way shapes how modern residents and visitors understand the region’s geography and history. Though trains no longer struggle up the impossible grade to Jerome, their absence speaks as eloquently as their presence once did about the economic forces, technological changes, and human aspirations that continue to reshape the Arizona landscape.
For contemporary visitors tracing these fading imprints on the mountainside, the experience offers something increasingly rare in our digital age—tangible, physical connection to the technologies and transportation systems that built modern Arizona. Walking along the UV&P Trail, where generations of railroaders once maintained the steel pathway, creates a direct link to the industrial past that screens and virtual experiences cannot replicate.
The preservation of these transportation ghosts—whether through formal adaptive reuse projects like the UV&P Trail or simply through documentation before they vanish entirely—serves not merely nostalgic purposes but educational ones as well. In understanding how earlier generations built, operated, and ultimately abandoned complex infrastructure systems, we gain perspective on our own transportation networks and the inevitable transitions they too will undergo as technologies and needs evolve.
As sunset gilds the distant red rocks of Sedona, viewed from a trail that once carried copper to build America’s electrical infrastructure, these silent witnesses remind us that all transportation systems—even the most essential—exist within historical currents that eventually render them obsolete. The ghost railways of Arizona, like the communities they once served, stand as monuments to both human ingenuity and the impermanence of our most ambitious constructions.