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Updated: September 13, 2025
Many years ago it was a busy mining camp, and the hope is entertained by the faithful who still reside in its picturesque adobe homes that it will come back with renewed vigour. Here at Ahrenburg I met a character who added greatly to the interest of my stay.
Somewhere in the dark, I never knew just when, I passed the mouth of the Gila River. In a similar way in broad daylight I had passed the Bill Williams Fork above Ahrenburg. At last I neared the town. I could discern some buildings on top of a small hill, evidently one of the back streets of Yuma.
I had expected to find water-fowl, for the Colorado delta is their breeding place; but I little expected to find so many land birds in the trees along the river. Instead of having a lonesome trip, every minute was filled with something new, interesting, and beautiful and I was having the time of my life. I camped that night at Picachio, meaning the Pocket, eighty miles below Ahrenburg.
The place was a new railroad town on an Indian reservation, a town of great expectations, somewhat deferred. It was not as interesting to me as my next stop at Ahrenburg, some fifty miles below Parker. This place while nothing but a collection of dilapidated adobe buildings, had an air of romance about it which was missing in the newer town. Ahrenburg had seen its day.
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