I went to Oatman for pioneer charm
Named after Olive Oatman who, at 13, was kidnapped by Indians in 1851 during a raid that killed most of her family. She and a younger sister were taken; her brother Lorenzo was left for dead but managed to hike to an outpost to safety. Olive’s younger sister died during their captivity, while Olive lived among the natives for several years before being rescued by her brother Lorenzo. She went on to marry but struggled with what we would call PTSD today; After hearing many different versions of her story for years in almost every pioneer museum in the area, I wanted to visit the town named after her.
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| Olive, with a chin tattoo common among the Mohave; Olive claimed the specific pattern identified a slave |
A stop on Route 66
Oatman grew as a mining town along Rte 66. Even today, small feral burros wander the mountains and beg carrots from tourists. In fact, the burros are such an attraction that you can buy burro treats from the local stores (small grain and hay feed biscuits). Normally, there are the usual staged shoot-outs on main street on the weekends as well.
I had heard that the road to Oatman was narrow and winding and not for RV’s. It was fairly scary even in my car! Ed’s Camp was a popular stop for gas, ice, and food along the old Rte. 66. After the new I-40 was put in, Ed’s camp withered away and now only serves tumbleweeds.
The first 10 miles from Kingman was fine – just a narrow 2-lane road. But, then I hit the mountains and the final 10 miles to Oatman consisted of an even narrower 2-lane track with no shoulder, few cliff barriers, and ridiculous hairpin turns!!
Boys, Bikes, and Bands . . . .
From the number of motorcycles I was seeing on the road, I knew to park on the outskirts of Oatman – but even then I really didn’t have a clue. While I'm sure the bulk of the 75,000 people were in Laughlin - still way too many were taking side trips to Oatman, Kingman and Chloride today.
I walked up a hill from where I had parked in a wash outside of town and was soon in the middle, of Oatman, and, in the middle of a stop on the 2018 Laughlin River Run! I don’t know how many motorcycles were there but I counted over 200 already leaving before I even got there.
Cycles lined both side of the street all the way through the little main street, filling every parking area and stacked up on the shoulders and washes coming into town. There were the vendors you find at any major event selling jewelry (lots of little skulls), patches, t-shirts, and gear (in this case, motorcycle stuff).
Between the growl of the Harley’s, the giant speakers for a couple of bands, and yelling, laughing people, I may not hear correctly for a week! I had planned to have lunch in Oatman, but the crowds (and especially the incredible noise) drove me out.
I did see a bit of Oatman peeking through as I scurried back to my car.
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| Cool old bike at one vendor spot |
But, oh, the bikes were beautiful!! And the people were friendly (if a little bit well lit); I was offered chicken, beer (and a ‘mustache ride’ . . .) – but overall, no one was getting too frisky; there were families there and lot’s of police to manage traffic and, from the event’s website, ‘public nudity’.
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| This beauty belonged to a guy I met at a turnout - he warned me about the crowds and gave me some good advice on where to park. |
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| I've always loved Indian motorcycles; apparently the leather seat and saddlebags are required - I saw several but this one was the prettiest. |
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| Is this glittery or what!! |
. . . . and, of course, the famous Burros!!
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| Despite the noise, the Burros were very calm |
Altogether an interesting day, even if it wasn’t anything like what I had been expecting.
