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There are plenty of towns along Route 66 that celebrate their history, but Oatman, Arizona, appears to have handed its history over to a herd of burros and said, “You guys take it from here.”
I knew about the burros before we arrived. I’d seen the photographs of them wandering down the middle of the street, sticking their heads toward shops and approaching tourists with the confidence of animals who know perfectly well that everyone came to see them. What I wasn’t prepared for was how much I would enjoy everything else about Oatman.
This former gold-mining town sits in Arizona’s Black Mountains along one of the most spectacular surviving stretches of Route 66. There are old wooden storefronts, mining history, Wild West silliness, quirky shops, a historic hotel, mountains surrounding everything and enough Route 66 personality to remind you why driving the old road is so much more interesting than taking the interstate. The burros may be the stars of the show, but Oatman turned out to be one of those places where the entire experience was worth the detour.
Getting to Oatman Is Half the Adventure
If you’re driving to Oatman from the Kingman side, the journey is part of the experience. Historic Route 66 climbs into the Black Mountains and crosses Sitgreaves Pass on a winding two-lane road filled with curves, switchbacks and spectacular views. This 42-mile stretch is part of the Route 66 Historic Back Country Byway and is considered one of the best-preserved portions of the Mother Road in Arizona.
There are places where Route 66 feels like a perfectly ordinary road that happens to have a historic shield painted on the pavement. This isn’t one of them. Driving through the Black Mountains gives you a much better idea of what early motorists faced when they attempted to cross the country before modern interstates, automatic transmissions and vehicles designed to effortlessly climb mountain grades.
Early cars could struggle on these roads, and motorists sometimes needed assistance getting across the pass. Meanwhile, we’re driving modern air-conditioned vehicles and still gripping the steering wheel a little tighter around some of those curves. The road is gorgeous, but it’s also one where the driver should concentrate on driving and let everybody else take the pictures.
Then You Come Around the Bend and Find Oatman
Oatman looks like someone dropped an Old West town into the mountains and forgot to pick it back up. The community grew around gold mining in the early 20th century, with a major boom beginning around 1915. Thousands of people poured into the area, and Oatman developed the hotels, saloons, shops and businesses necessary to support them.
Mining eventually declined, but Route 66 brought the town another economic lifeline when motorists began traveling directly through it. When the highway was later rerouted and Interstate 40 carried traffic elsewhere, Oatman could easily have disappeared like so many communities bypassed by America’s changing highway system.
Instead, the town found another way to survive. Today, those old buildings, mining stories, Route 66 history and free-roaming burros are precisely why travelers deliberately leave the interstate and come looking for it.
The Burros Are More Than a Tourist Attraction
The burros aren’t animals someone brought into town because tourists thought they’d be cute. Their history is tied directly to Oatman’s mining days. Burros were used by miners to haul supplies and equipment through the rugged surrounding landscape, and when the mining industry declined, animals were released. The wild burros roaming the Black Mountains today are descendants of those working animals.
Some of them regularly wander into town, and they behave less like visitors than longtime residents checking to see what everyone is doing on their street. They’ll walk down the road, stand beside parked cars and approach people with great interest, particularly if there’s any possibility that food might be involved. Traffic works around them because the burros clearly haven’t received the memo that Route 66 is intended for automobiles.
Local businesses sell appropriate burro feed, typically alfalfa-based pellets or cubes. That’s what visitors should use rather than feeding them carrots, apples or whatever happens to be hiding in a snack bag. They’re also still wild animals, no matter how accustomed they may be to people, so give them space and pay attention to their behavior. Cute ears do not constitute a legally binding promise of good manners.
The Mayor Was a Baby Donkey
One of my favorite moments in Oatman was learning the mayor, who happened to be a baby donkey. I have visited towns with mayors who were considerably less charming, so I had no complaints about the local administration.
That’s exactly the kind of thing I love about Route 66. You can spend part of the day learning serious history about mining, migration and the evolution of American transportation, then an hour later find yourself being introduced to a burro holding public office. The entire road operates on this wonderful combination of genuine history and absolute nonsense, and Oatman understands the assignment particularly well.
I’m not going to investigate the mayor’s legislative record or position on municipal zoning. I support the administration and hope his platform includes additional alfalfa pellets.
Oatman Takes Its Wild West Reputation Seriously
The burros may get top billing, but Oatman hasn’t forgotten its mining-town roots. Historic buildings line the main street, wooden sidewalks add to the atmosphere, and Old West gunfight performances bring another layer of tourist fun to the experience. The Oatman Outlaws stage short Wild West performances right in the street, although the burros are equally capable of stopping traffic without any rehearsal whatsoever.
Is some of it cheesy? Absolutely, and I don’t care in the slightest. I’m driving Route 66. I did not come looking for restrained sophistication. Give me the fake gunfight, the ridiculous signs, the burro jokes and the souvenir shops because all of that fits beautifully beside the genuine history.
One of my travel pet peeves is the idea that something somehow becomes less worthwhile because tourists enjoy it. Oatman has a real mining history and a real connection to Route 66, but it also understands that people on vacation want to have fun. Those two things are perfectly capable of existing on the same dusty street.
You Need to Go Inside the Oatman Hotel
One of the most interesting surviving buildings is the historic Oatman Hotel Restaurant & Bar, originally known as the Durlin Hotel. The building dates to Oatman’s mining era and survived the devastating 1921 fire that destroyed much of the town. Today, the former hotel contains a restaurant, bar and museum rather than overnight guest rooms.
Inside, one of the first things you’re likely to notice is the money. Dollar bills cover the walls and ceiling of the saloon, creating one of those wonderfully strange interiors that feels perfectly at home on Route 66. The tradition reportedly connects to miners who would sign and attach money to the wall so they could retrieve it when they needed funds for a drink. I admire a financial plan with clearly defined priorities.
There’s also a room associated with Clark Gable and Carole Lombard. The long-told Oatman story says the Hollywood couple stayed at the hotel after marrying in nearby Kingman in 1939, although historical accounts disagree about whether they actually spent their honeymoon night there. I almost like the uncertainty because Route 66 runs on stories, and sometimes the legend becomes nearly as famous as whatever actually happened.
Oatman Is Fully Committed to the Burro Jokes
Travel long enough and you learn that some of your most memorable photographs will not be the ones a tourism board expected you to take. Oatman gave me Saving Your Ass, and yes, it was the restroom. Of course I took a picture.
Then there was Buck Tooth Burro Saloon and Jackass Junction, because apparently Oatman chose a theme and decided there would be no half measures. That’s part of the town’s charm. Nobody seems terribly concerned about whether Oatman is sophisticated enough. This is an old mining town filled with burros on Route 66, and the businesses are having fun with it.
I appreciate that kind of commitment. If you’ve got donkeys wandering through your downtown, you might as well get every possible joke out of the situation.
Don’t Rush Through the Shops
At first glance, Oatman’s main street can look like a string of souvenir stores, and there are certainly plenty of opportunities to buy Route 66 shirts, burro merchandise and things you had absolutely no intention of owning before you arrived. But slow down and pay attention to the buildings too, because this was a real mining community long before it became a Route 66 attraction.
A devastating fire destroyed many of Oatman’s structures in 1921, making the surviving historic buildings particularly interesting. What you’re seeing today is a combination of the town that was, the tourist destination it became and the community that managed to keep going after both mining and the original highway traffic disappeared.
That’s one reason I’d rather wander than race through Oatman. You can choose your own level of seriousness here. Learn about mining history and historic architecture, buy a ridiculous donkey souvenir, watch a fake shootout and feed a burro approved pellets. Ideally, do all four.
Oatman Is a Town That Refused to Die
Underneath the burro jokes is one of the most important recurring stories of Route 66. Gold created Oatman, and the highway helped sustain it when mining declined. Then the highway left.
When Oatman was bypassed, the steady flow of travelers supporting its businesses disappeared. Similar stories played out across Route 66 as newer highways and eventually the interstate system rerouted America’s traffic. Gas stations, motels, diners and entire communities that had depended on passing motorists suddenly watched the economic bloodstream move somewhere else.
Some towns never recovered. Oatman nearly disappeared too, but eventually America’s renewed fascination with Route 66 gave the community another opportunity. Ironically, the things that once made Oatman seem outdated—its isolation, old buildings, mining history, winding mountain road and free-roaming burros—became exactly what travelers wanted to experience.
There’s something wonderfully Route 66 about that. A town that lost its reason for existing as a major stop along the highway eventually survived because people began deliberately seeking out the old road again.
Give Yourself Time to Wander
Oatman isn’t a place I’d schedule down to the minute. Park the car and wander. Watch the burros, go into the shops, look at the buildings, visit the hotel and catch a gunfight if the timing works. Buy the appropriate burro feed if you want to participate, but remember you’re dealing with wild animals rather than a petting zoo.
Most importantly, watch what’s happening around you because Oatman’s entertainment isn’t confined to scheduled attractions. A burro may decide the middle of Route 66 is an excellent place to stand. Another may become extremely interested in somebody’s shopping bag. Traffic may come to a complete halt while everyone waits for a donkey to finish whatever important municipal business has brought it into the road.
That’s part of the experience, and rushing through town because you’re trying to keep an overly ambitious itinerary on schedule rather defeats the purpose.
Don’t Forget That You’re Still on Route 66
It’s easy to get distracted by the jackass jokes, but one of my favorite things about Oatman is that Route 66 runs directly through the middle of the experience. This isn’t an attraction someone constructed beside the old highway decades later. Oatman survived in part because motorists once drove this road right through town, and today you can still follow that historic route through the Black Mountains.
The road itself deserves attention. This stretch winds through mountains, desert and old mining country and gives you a very different Route 66 experience from the flat, straight sections found elsewhere. Don’t make Oatman simply a destination entered into GPS and reached by the fastest possible route if your schedule allows otherwise.
Drive the old road, enjoy the scenery and appreciate just how much more challenging this journey would have been for earlier travelers. Getting to Oatman is part of understanding why the town existed where it did and why Route 66 travelers still remember it.
What You Need to Know Before Visiting Oatman
Oatman is one of those Route 66 stops where giving yourself extra time pays off. I would allow at least two to three hours to wander the main street, visit the Oatman Hotel, browse the shops, watch the burros and catch one of the Wild West performances if the timing works. Add more time if you plan to eat while you’re there. This isn’t a place where I’d pull in, take a burro picture and check it off the list. Half the fun is seeing what happens while you’re wandering.
If you’re coming from Kingman, take Historic Route 66 through the Black Mountains and over Sitgreaves Pass rather than treating Oatman as another destination your GPS needs to reach as quickly as possible. The drive is spectacular, but it is narrow and winding in places, with plenty of curves that demand the driver’s attention. Fill up the gas tank before heading into the mountains, bring water and let your passenger handle the photography. This is one stretch of Route 66 where the journey really is part of the attraction.
Arizona heat also deserves some respect, particularly during the summer. Oatman’s historic downtown is made for wandering, and you’re going to spend a fair amount of that time outside. Bring water, sunscreen and a hat, and don’t assume you’ll want to spend hours walking around in the middle of a blazing afternoon. Earlier in the day can be a much more comfortable way to explore.
And bring a little patience. Burros wander into the road, pedestrians cross between shops, performances can stop traffic and the entire town operates at a pace that doesn’t particularly care about your carefully constructed road-trip itinerary. That’s not an inconvenience. That’s Oatman.
How Accessible Is Oatman?
Oatman is a historic mining town built long before anyone was thinking about modern accessibility standards, and that’s important to understand before you arrive. The experience centers around wandering the historic main street, going in and out of old buildings and shops, and spending quite a bit of time outdoors. Surfaces, entrances and conditions can vary, so travelers with mobility concerns may want to allow additional time rather than trying to squeeze Oatman into a tightly scheduled stop.
The good news is that you don’t have to do everything to experience Oatman. Much of what makes the town entertaining happens right along the main street. The burros wander through town, the historic buildings surround you and people-watching is practically an attraction of its own. Someone who can’t comfortably explore every shop or historic building can still get a good sense of the place without tackling every doorway.
Heat is another accessibility consideration that shouldn’t be overlooked. Arizona temperatures can turn what seems like a short walk into something considerably more demanding, particularly for travelers with mobility issues, chronic illnesses or conditions affected by heat. Bring water, pace yourself and take advantage of opportunities to get out of the sun. This is not the place to prove anything by pushing through when your body is telling you otherwise.
I also wouldn’t judge Oatman’s accessibility with a simple yes or no. Historic communities are complicated that way. A traveler who uses a wheelchair may encounter different challenges than someone who uses a cane, has difficulty with balance, can’t stand for long periods or simply needs more frequent breaks. My approach is to tell you what the environment is like so you can decide whether it works for you.
Most importantly, don’t assume that needing to experience Oatman differently means you’re missing Oatman. Sit for a while. Watch the burros take over Route 66. Enjoy the ridiculous signs. Take your time with the parts of town that work for you. There is no prize for seeing Oatman faster than everybody else—and the burros certainly aren’t in a hurry.
Oatman Is Ridiculous, Historic and Completely Worth It
Would I call Oatman polished or elegant? Probably not, but that’s exactly why I enjoyed it. Oatman is dusty, touristy, historic, kitschy and occasionally blocked by livestock. There are souvenir shops, fake gunfights, old buildings, mining stories, dollar bills covering a saloon and descendants of miners’ burros wandering around as though they own the place.
Somehow, all of it works because Oatman doesn’t pretend Route 66 was ever supposed to be sophisticated. The Mother Road was filled with people trying to make travelers stop. Giant signs, weird attractions, memorable restaurants and businesses with huge personalities were part of what made the journey interesting, and Oatman is still carrying on that tradition.
Take the winding road through the Black Mountains, park the car and give yourself time to explore. Buy the approved burro chow, visit the hotel, take the ridiculous picture at Saving Your Ass and say hello to the mayor if he’s conducting official business that day.
Most importantly, if a burro plants itself directly in front of your car when you’re ready to leave, don’t get impatient. You may technically be driving one of America’s most famous highways, but you’re also visiting Oatman.
Around here, the burros clearly have the right of way.
