Historical Sites on ADV Bikes: Mt Lemmon Prison Camp

Keith Dishong • December 1, 2025

Tired of riding the same routes each month? Get out and explore Arizona's rich history with our series of Historical Sites for ADV Bikes! 

Getting to Mount Lemmon Prison Camp we'd rate at a 1 out of 5 difficulty rating if you only take the highway up and down. With 26 miles of curves each way; it's the perfect summer ride in Southern Arizona because of the massive drop in temperature towards the top. The prison camp is at mile marker 7 as you ascend the highway and is a great place to camp if your planning an overnighter. Weekends get busy on the mountain, as you might expect, and slower moving traffic doesn't seem to recognize what the multiple pull-outs along the highway were designed for most of the time. For maximum enjoyment, we recommend riding Mt Lemmon on weekdays.


To make this ride dirty, ride the offroad section on the backside of Mt Lemmon from Oracle! Maps call it the Arizona National Scenic Trail. Difficulty peaks at a 3.5 out of 5 and we recommend you be an intermediate rider or better if you're attempting it on a big ADV bike. Most of the way up the mountain it's an easy, well groomed, road but as you start climbing in elevation the road turns rocky and loose in sections. Riding this road up or down the mountain is spectacular but this road does close for the winter months so check with locals for when the gates open/close. May to October it's usually open.

Enjoy the history:

In the rugged Santa Catalina Mountains overlooking Tucson, Arizona, the winding Catalina Highway leads travelers through a dramatic transition of ecosystems—from saguaro-studded deserts to pine-scented forests. Thousands of people drive this road every week to reach the cool summit of Mount Lemmon, but few realize that the asphalt beneath their tires was laid by men who were imprisoned for their conscience.

At Mile Post 7, a quiet campground and trailhead now bears the name of one of these men: Gordon Hirabayashi. The site of the former Catalina Federal Honor Camp serves as a solemn reminder of a time when wartime hysteria eclipsed constitutional rights, and one man’s "stupid honesty" became a beacon for American civil liberties.

The Man Who Said "No"

Born in Seattle in 1918 to Japanese immigrant parents, Gordon Hirabayashi was a senior at the University of Washington when the world fell apart. After the attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, the U.S. government issued Executive Order 9066, which eventually led to the forced removal and incarceration of over 120,000 people of Japanese ancestry—two-thirds of whom were American citizens.

Hirabayashi was a religious pacifist and a member of the Quaker-inspired Mukyokai movement. When the military imposed a curfew specifically for Japanese Americans and later ordered them to report to "relocation centers," Hirabayashi felt a fundamental conflict. "If I were to maintain my integrity in terms of my belief that I am a first-class American citizen," he later wrote, "but then accepted second-class status, I would have had to accept all kinds of differences."

He refused to obey the curfew and refused to report for internment. Instead, he walked into the FBI office in Seattle and turned himself in. He wanted a "test case" to prove that the government could not legally imprison citizens without due process based solely on their race.

The Long Road to Tucson

Hirabayashi’s legal battle went all the way to the U.S. Supreme Court. In a landmark (and today, widely criticized) 1943 decision, Hirabayashi v. United States, the court unanimously upheld his conviction, ruling that the curfew was a "military necessity." Hirabayashi was sentenced to 90 days in prison. However, because he was in Washington state and the nearest "honor camp" with space was in Arizona, a logistical problem arose: the government didn't want to pay for his train fare. In a display of character that seems almost unfathomable today, Hirabayashi offered to get himself to prison. He spent several weeks hitchhiking 1,600 miles from Spokane to Tucson. When he finally arrived at the gates of the Catalina Federal Honor Camp on Mount Lemmon, the guards couldn't find his paperwork. They told him to "go into town, catch a movie, and come back later." He did exactly that, returning to the camp once his papers were found to begin his sentence. The camp where Hirabayashi served his time was not a typical prison. Established in 1937, it was a "prison without bars," designed to house low-security inmates who provided the back-breaking labor required to build the General Hitchcock Highway (now Catalina Highway).

Life on the Mountain

Inmates lived in wooden barracks at about 5,000 feet of elevation. Their days were spent:

  • Blasting Rock: Using dynamite to carve through the granite of the Santa Catalinas.
  • Manual Labor: Clearing brush, moving heavy stones with sledgehammers, and operating jackhammers.
  • Survival: Facing Tucson’s extreme temperature swings—from scorching summer afternoons to freezing winter nights.

The "Tucsonans"

During World War II, the camp’s population shifted. Alongside traditional inmates were "resisters of conscience." This group included:

  • Japanese American Resisters: Men like Hirabayashi and a group known as the "Tucsonians" who protested the loyalty oaths and internment.
  • Jehovah’s Witnesses and Quakers: Conscientious objectors who refused to serve in the military on religious grounds.
  • Hopi Indians: Tribal members who refused to register for the draft, citing their own sovereign status and religious beliefs.

These men formed a unique community of intellectuals and believers, often spending their evenings discussing philosophy and the Constitution while the mountain wind whistled through the barracks.

Vindicated by History

After serving his time in Arizona (and later another year in federal prison for refusing the draft), Hirabayashi went on to have a distinguished career as a professor of sociology. However, the shadow of his criminal record remained for four decades. The turning point came in the 1980s. Legal researcher Peter Irons discovered evidence that the government had suppressed its own intelligence reports during WWII—reports that stated Japanese Americans posed no actual threat. This "prosecutorial misconduct" allowed Hirabayashi to reopen his case. In 1987, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals vacated his convictions. The court noted that "the government’s position was based on racial prejudice and wartime hysteria rather than military necessity."

The Ultimate Honor

In 1999, the site of the old prison camp was officially renamed the Gordon Hirabayashi Recreation Site. Hirabayashi himself attended the dedication ceremony. In 2012, shortly after his death, President Barack Obama posthumously awarded him the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the highest civilian honor in the United States.

Visiting the Site Today

If you visit the Gordon Hirabayashi Recreation Site today, you won't find many buildings. Most were razed in the 1970s. However, the spirit of the place is palpable. You can still walk among the concrete foundations of the mess hall and barracks. Detailed panels tell the story of the camp, the construction of the highway, and the struggle for civil rights. Standing at the site, you can look up at the towering cliffs and down toward the Tucson valley, reflecting on the fact that the road you traveled was built by men who were held here for simply believing in the promises of the Constitution.

The Legacy of "Stupid Honesty"

Gordon Hirabayashi’s father was often teased by his peers for being baka shojiki—meaning "stupidly honest." He didn't hide the best lettuce at the top of the crate; he was exactly who he said he was. Gordon inherited this trait. He could have easily "gone along to get along," but his refusal to compromise his identity as a "first-class citizen" eventually forced a nation to confront its own failures.

The next time you drive the Mount Lemmon highway, take a moment to stop at Mile 7. Listen to the wind through the oaks and remember that sometimes, the most important roads we travel aren't made of asphalt, but of the courage to stand still when everyone else is being forced to move.



Am I Really An Intermediate Rider?

By Keith Dishong & Scott Arkon • January 10, 2026
a self assessment chart for adv rider to better determine their skills in relationship to ADV trails. Beginner, intermediate and advanced riders can distinguish.

Historical Sites on ADV Bikes: Apache Leap

By Keith Dishong • December 26, 2025
In the heart of the Superior Arizona, landscape, two geological giants stand as silent sentinels of the past: Picketpost Mountain and Apache Leap. If you’ve ever driven US-60 between Phoenix and Globe, you’ve seen them - one a solitary, flat-topped butte that looks like a fortress, the other a massive, jagged escarpment that glows deep crimson at sunset. These are not just beautiful formations for hikers to conquer; they are sites steeped in a complex, tragic history where Native American endurance, military strategy, and mining booms collided. The Sentinel: Picketpost Mountain Picketpost Mountain is an unmistakable landmark. Rising 4,375 feet above the desert floor, it looks like a natural castle guarding the town of Superior. Long before it was Picketpost, Spanish and Mexican explorers called it Tordillo (Grey Spotted) Mountain. Its current name was born from the Apache Wars of the 1870s. General George Stoneman, a prominent military figure (and later the Governor of California), established an infantry camp at the mountain’s base in 1870. The mountain served as a "picket post" - a military term for a sentinel or lookout position. Soldiers were stationed on the broad, flat summit to signal movements across the desert below. Because of its height, it later became a vital link in the heliograph network, a communication system that used mirrors to flash Morse code across Arizona’s mountain peaks. A Volcanic Giant Geologically, Picketpost is the remnant of a massive volcanic vent. Over millions of years, the surrounding softer rock eroded away, leaving behind the hardened "latite" lava that forms the mountain's formidable cliffs. This geological "hard-headedness" is what gives Picketpost its iconic, impregnable look. The Legend: Apache Leap - The Leap of Honor Directly to the east of Superior lies Apache Leap, a stunning vertical cliff that forms the edge of the Galiuro and Superstition transition. Its beauty, however, is inseparable from a haunting oral tradition. According to the legend, in the early 1870s, a group of Pinal Apache warriors were surprised by U.S. Cavalry troops in a pre-dawn raid. Outnumbered and backed toward the edge of the sheer 1,000-foot precipice, the warriors faced a grim choice: surrender and face life in captivity, or die on their own terms. The legend says that nearly 75 warriors chose to leap to their deaths from the summit. It is a story of profound sacrifice and refusal to yield. The Apache Tears Local lore links this tragedy to a unique geological feature of the area: Apache Tears. These are small, translucent pebbles of black obsidian found in the perlite deposits at the base of the mountain. The story goes that the wives and families of the fallen warriors gathered at the base of the cliff to mourn. Their grief was so great that the Great Father embedded their tears into the earth as black stones. When held up to the light, these "tears" are clear, representing the sorrow and the spirit of those lost. Superior: The Town Caught in the Middle The presence of Picketpost and Apache Leap defined the fate of the town of Superior. In 1875, silver was discovered at the foot of Picketpost Mountain, leading to the creation of the Silver King Mine - the richest silver strike in Arizona history. The boom town of Pinal City sprang up at the mountain's base, housing figures like Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. When the silver eventually ran out, the focus shifted to the copper veins beneath Apache Leap, giving rise to the Magma Mine and the modern-day town of Superior. Today, these landmarks are at a crossroads. The proposed Resolution Copper mine project aims to tap into a massive copper deposit nearly 7,000 feet beneath the Apache Leap area. This has sparked a deep conflict between the economic potential of the mine and the cultural sanctity of a site that many Apache tribes consider sacred ground. Whether you see these mountains as sources of mineral wealth, military history, or spiritual significance, there is no denying their power. Standing in the shadow of Picketpost as the sun sets behind Apache Leap, you can almost hear the echoes of the "picket" guards and the mournful winds of the legends that define this rugged corner of Arizona.
ghost town of sunnyside arizona

Historical Sites on ADV Bikes: Sunnyside

By Keith Dishong • December 20, 2025
Tired of riding the same routes each month? Get out and explore Arizona's rich history with our series of Historical Sites for ADV Bikes! Getting to Sunnyside we'd rate at a 2 out of 5 difficulty rating. It's a great offroad section that easy enough for beginners with one mild technical dry creek crossing. The road is big bike friendly. If you continue past Sunnyside, you'll run into slightly more technical terrain, but again, nothing we'd consider difficult, even on the largest ADV bikes. Enjoy the history:  In the rugged, pine-scented folds of the Huachuca Mountains in Cochise County, Arizona, lies a history that reads more like a screenplay than a municipal record. Long before the suburbs of Tucson adopted the name "Sunnyside," a different community by that name thrived in a remote canyon, born from the spiritual fervor of a reformed sailor and sustained by the "common purse" of a communal mining experiment. ​ The story of Sunnyside, Cochise County, is a tale of religious zeal, copper dreams, and a specific brand of frontier socialism that existed nowhere else in the Wild West. ​ The Founding: Samuel Donnelly’s Revelation ​The origin of Sunnyside is inseparable from its founder, Samuel Donnelly. Born in Scotland in 1852, Donnelly was a man of extremes. He spent his youth as a merchant seaman, allegedly living a life of "worldly" vices before a transformative experience at a Salvation Army meeting in San Francisco. Donnelly became a "two-fisted preacher," a charismatic figure who believed that the corruptions of the city were the greatest threat to a Christian life. In the mid-1880s, looking for a place to establish a utopian community, Donnelly turned his eyes toward the newly opened territories of Arizona. He wasn't just looking for a pulpit; he was looking for a livelihood. Donnelly acquired an interest in a mining claim on the western slopes of the Huachuca Mountains. By 1888, he had led a small band of followers—later dubbed the "Donnellites" by outsiders—into Sunnyside Canyon to build a town where work was worship and wealth was shared. ​ Operation: The Donnellites and the Communal Mine ​Unlike the lawless mining camps of nearby Tombstone or Bisbee, Sunnyside was a model of sobriety and order. The town’s operation was built on three core pillars: mining, communalism, and strict moral discipline. ​The Copper Glance Mine: The economic heart of Sunnyside was the Copper Glance Mine. While many residents also worked at the nearby Lone Star Mine, the Copper Glance was the community’s project. Every man in the camp worked the mines or the sawmill. There were no private accounts. The profits from the ore were placed into a "common purse" used to provide for everyone’s needs, regardless of their specific job or status. Social Life in the Canyon: At its peak, Sunnyside housed between 80 and 100 residents. Life was simple but surprisingly rich in culture.Most meals were eaten together in a large tent or timber-framed dining hall. This fostered a sense of kinship that was rare in the highly individualistic West. Donnelly forbade saloons, gambling halls, and "camp followers" (prostitutes). To those living in the violent shadow of the O.K. Corral era, Sunnyside was a peaceful anomaly. Despite the remote location, the community valued refinement. Families owned instruments—including at least one rosewood piano hauled up the mountain—and children attended a one-room schoolhouse that doubled as a chapel. Religious Structure: The Donnellites practiced a form of "Primitive Christianity." There was no formal church building; instead, the canyon itself was the sanctuary. Donnelly preached daily, emphasizing that the physical labor of clearing rock and timber was a spiritual duty. ​ The Collapse: Floods and Failing Health ​The fragility of a utopian community often lies in its dependence on a single leader or a single resource. Sunnyside had both vulnerabilities. ​In 1898, a catastrophe struck the Copper Glance. Miners accidentally breached an underground aquifer, causing a massive influx of water that flooded the shafts. In an era before high-powered electric pumps, the mine became a watery tomb for the community's primary source of income. Without the "common purse" to sustain them, the Donnellites began to drift away. The final blow came in April 1901, when Samuel Donnelly died of Bright’s disease. Without his charismatic leadership to hold the commune together, the religious experiment effectively ended. By 1903, the town was nearly a ghost town. ​ The Second Life: Ranching and the CCC ​Sunnyside didn't disappear immediately. In the 1910s and 20s, the area saw a small revival as a ranching community. A post office was established in 1914 and operated until 1934, serving the rugged homesteaders of the San Rafael Valley. During the Great Depression, the area's operation shifted again. The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) established a camp nearby in 1933. These young men built the roads and fire lookouts that still exist in the Huachucas today, living in the same canyon where the Donnellites had once sung hymns. ​ Sunnyside Today: A Modern Ghost Town ​Today, Sunnyside is located within the Coronado National Forest. While most of the timber structures have rotted away, the stone foundations and the ruins of the "Hot House" remain as silent witnesses to Donnelly’s dream.The town remains a destination for hikers and history buffs, particularly those trekking the Arizona Trail, which passes near the site. It stands as a reminder that the history of Cochise County is more than just gunfights and outlaws—it was also a laboratory for those trying to build a better world in the middle of the desert.
lochiel arizona golden field

Historical Sites on ADV Bikes: Lochiel

By Keith Dishong • November 15, 2025
Tired of riding the same routes each month? Get out and explore Arizona's rich history with our series of Historical Sites for ADV Bikes! Reaching Lochiel ranks a 1 out of 5 difficulty rating unless it's rained and made a mess of the road... then it becomes a 2; still beginner friendly just be vigilant. After leaving Patagonia, pavement fades fast, replaced by wide dirt roads, washboard, loose rock, and the occasional sandy section; making it ideal for riders who like their scenery remote. The route flows through open ranch land and high-desert grasslands with long sightlines, minimal traffic, and plenty of free-range cattle that couldn’t care less about your travel plans. It’s not a technical beatdown, but it’s remote, quiet, and unforgiving if you’re unprepared, ending at the eerie border ghost town of Lochiel where history, isolation, and a strong “don’t break down here” energy collide. Enjoy the history: