I discovered Ajo in while living in Tucson in 1995 on a day trip born out of restless boredom. After trekking through the Tohono O'odham Indian Reservation, after driving past Kitt Peak National Observatory, I arrived in a carefully planned town designed originally in Spanish revival style.
It was beautiful, or, rather, had been. Nobody was taking care of anything. Broken windows and yards gone to seed at every third house. A majestic high school with an equally majestic view of the boulevard leading to the town plaza had begun to crumble. Layers of reddish brown dust seemed to hang in the air and settle on everything. It looked like a place that was dying, if not already dead.
Completely missing the one-mile wide hole in the ground, and unmindful of Arizona’s significance in the mining industry, I couldn’t imagine why someone would build a town like this in such a remote corner of the Sonoran Desert, then let it fall apart. But I could see, even then, that it had what real estate flippers call “good bones.” I never forgot the place and, in the years that followed, would periodically Google it.
It turns out that the mine I failed to notice in 1995 had closed in 1985. The International Sonoran Desert Alliance (ISDA), founded in 1993, took on the daunting mission of rebuilding Ajo’s civic identity in the wake of the mine’s closure. The non-profit organization is the closest thing to a local government in Ajo, which relies on Pima County for most governmental functions.
Under its stewardship, Ajo has evolved into an artist colony and a basecamp for the thousands of outdoor recreation enthusiasts who want to explore the surrounding Sonoran Desert, including Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, the Cabeza Prieta Wildlife Refuge, and the legendary Camino del Diablo.
I bought this house in 2021 with the intent to make it my winter home. After a lot of TLC, it's finally ready for guests.