Frontier Era Time Capsule – Johnson Canyon Tunnel
The Johnson Canyon Tunnel, a relic of the American West’s relentless push toward progress, stands as a silent testament to the ambition, ingenuity, and hardship that characterized the frontier era. Nestled in the rugged landscape of northern Arizona, near the modern town of Williams, this tunnel represents more than just a passage through rock; it is a tangible link to a time of railroad expansion, booming settlements, and the often-perilous lives of those who carved a nation out of the wilderness.
The year was 1881. The Atlantic & Pacific Railroad, driven by the promise of connecting the East and West Coasts, was steadily laying track across the vast expanse of Arizona. The landscape presented a formidable challenge. Survey crews, pushing westward, encountered the steep, canyon-riven escarpment of the Colorado Plateau. Previously, the railroad had overcome significant obstacles, including the notable spanning of the deep chasm at Canyon Diablo. However, the geography of the Colorado Plateau demanded a new level of resourcefulness.
To avoid a costly and time-consuming detour looping miles to the south, engineers made a bold decision: they chose to route the railroad through Johnson Canyon. This choice, while seemingly direct, came with a significant drawback. The resulting roadbed would have a steep incline of 112 feet per mile, exceeding the established grade-level standards for safe and efficient rail transport. Despite the challenging gradient, the strategic advantage of a more direct route outweighed the concerns.
Within the confines of the canyon, the engineers and construction crews faced numerous obstacles. A particularly stubborn feature was a sheer rock shoulder that formed a cliff where the canyon took a sharp bend. The only solution was to bore a tunnel through the solid rock, creating a vital passage for the iron horse. While relatively short at 328 feet, this tunnel, the only one on the main line west of Albuquerque, New Mexico, was initially perceived as a minor inconvenience.
The reality, however, proved far more challenging. As the tunnel crews began their work, the daily progress slowed to a crawl. They had encountered a core of exceptionally hard basalt rock. The drilling and blasting, typically a manageable process, became an arduous and painstaking task. The Johnson Canyon Tunnel project was quickly falling behind schedule.
While the tunnel construction in Johnson Canyon Tunnel crawled forward, other crews worked to overcome the remaining obstacles within the canyon. Two gorges required bridging, one located immediately west of the tunnel entrance. These tasks demanded specialized skills beyond the capabilities of a typical rail gang. The railroad company began actively recruiting powder men, miners, and bridge builders, attracting skilled laborers from across the globe by offering unprecedented wages. Laborers earned $2.40 per day, while drillers received $2.80 – a significant sum for the time, and an incentive that drew experienced workers to the remote Arizona canyon.
The influx of workers transformed the area. A makeshift railroad camp sprang up among the pines, approximately 200 feet above the tunnel site. This temporary settlement quickly became a bustling hub of activity, complete with stores, saloons, and brothels catering to the needs and desires of the transient workforce. Life in the camp was harsh and unforgiving. Injuries and work-related deaths were commonplace, a grim reminder of the inherent dangers of the work. Surprisingly, shootings and other forms of violence were relatively rare, making such incidents all the more newsworthy when they occurred.
One such incident, documented in an article in the Arizona Weekly Miner in February 1882, recounted an altercation between James Casey and William Ryan. The dispute escalated, culminating in Casey shooting Ryan in the head. Enraged citizens, fueled by alcohol and a sense of frontier justice, forced Casey to barricade himself inside a saloon. The newspaper account succinctly described the end of the affair: "Luckily, a ball from one of the guns ended his (Casey) villainous career, and he was sent to meet his Maker with the blood of Ryan fresh on his hands." This brutal episode serves as a stark illustration of the raw and often-violent nature of life on the frontier.
Tragedy struck on a larger scale in August. A premature explosion of blasting powder, carelessly tamped into drill holes, detonated a nearby stockpile of explosives. The resulting blast was devastating. Several men simply vanished, their bodies obliterated by the force of the explosion. The official death toll was recorded as six, but the true number may have been higher, as accurate records were often difficult to maintain in such a chaotic environment. The Johnson Canyon Tunnel became a symbol of the human cost of progress.
The slow and arduous pace of tunnel construction pushed the Atlantic & Pacific Railroad to the brink of financial ruin. Desperate for capital, the company was forced to sell stock to its rival, the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad. This infusion of cash only delayed the inevitable. The Atlantic & Pacific Railroad soon faded into history, becoming little more than a footnote in the annals of railroad expansion.
The completion of the Johnson Canyon Tunnel in late 1882 did not mark the end of the challenges. Rock falls plagued the site, threatening the structural integrity of the tunnel and the safety of the trains passing through. To address this problem, an intricate lattice of heavy timbers was installed to support the ceiling. However, in 1898, a fire broke out within the tunnel, weakening the timber supports and triggering a subsequent rock fall. The line was closed for eleven days, and two men lost their lives in the aftermath.
Subsequent repairs to the tunnel included the installation of a riveted iron ceiling and the lowering of the tunnel floor. These modifications aimed to improve the tunnel’s stability and prevent future rock falls. Between these repairs and the eventual abandonment of the line in 1959, the only significant modifications were exterior ones. During World War II, a gun emplacement was built over the tunnel, reflecting the strategic importance of this railroad bottleneck as a vital resource for national defense.
The tragedies associated with the construction of the Johnson Canyon Tunnel are only a small part of the canyon’s history. A series of derailments, some of which resulted in trains plummeting one hundred feet to the canyon floor below, further cemented Johnson Canyon’s reputation as one of the most dangerous railroad lines in America.
Despite its historical significance and the stories of hardship and resilience associated with its construction, the tunnel remains relatively obscure. Its ease of access only adds to the mystery of its relative anonymity.
A visit to the Johnson Canyon Tunnel offers a unique opportunity to step back in time and experience a tangible piece of American history. The journey begins at Exit 151, Welch Road, on I-40 west of Williams, Arizona. From there, follow Forest Road 6 north, crossing two early alignments of Route 66, and continue several miles to the site of Welch Station, marked by a large concrete slab.
From Welch Station, follow the old rail bed approximately 2.5 miles east into the canyon. The hike is relatively easy, as the rail bed is wide and level, and the grade is minimal. However, the area is remote, so it is essential to be prepared. Watch out for snakes, which are plentiful during the summer months. Notify someone of your destination and estimated return time, carry plenty of water, and take the time to savor the solitude and the scenic beauty of the canyon.
The Johnson Canyon Tunnel is more than just a hole in the rock. It is a time capsule, preserving the spirit of the frontier era and offering a glimpse into the lives of those who dared to build a nation against all odds. Its obscurity is a reminder that history is not always found in grand monuments and famous battlefields, but often in the forgotten corners of the landscape, waiting to be rediscovered and appreciated.
©Jim Hinckley, November 2012, updated January 2023.