Two Crosses on Oatman Highway:

Remembering Riders Lost on the Mother Road

At first glance, the stretch of Route 66 between Kingman and Topock, Arizona, feels like a time warp. Oatman Highway, as it’s now called, is a narrow, winding two-lane road that snakes through the Black Mountains and dips into the town of Oatman, a quirky relic of the mining boom, now famous for its wild burros and wooden sidewalks.

But hidden among the switchbacks and red rock outcroppings are stories you might miss if you’re not looking. Two crosses, handmade, quiet, stand at separate points along this road along with many others. On this trip, these two caught our eyes. We are always keeping an eye out for these beautiful markers. But the curves on this road force us to slow down, tellingly, many of Descansos are on curves like these. 

This is where we begin our public storytelling for the Descansos project.

Two Memorials, One Winding Road

The first memorial we found, was going southbound a little past Oatman. A simple but beautiful metal cross bore the name Brian Hansen, a 55-year-old man from Foothill Ranch, California.  He died in a motorcycle accident on Oatman Highway in 2018. According to regional news reports at the time, he and his riding companion, Michael Hansen, age 54, were heading northbound on a Friday evening when both men failed to navigate a curve near milepost 9. Neither was wearing a helmet. Brian suffered fatal head trauma and was pronounced dead at the scene. Michael survived with minor injuries.

The second memorial appeared a little farther south, outside of Oatman, near a section of highway marked by blind curves and steep drops. This cross was for James “Jim” Lennox Nelson, a 72-year-old from Conrad, Montana, who was riding with friends in March of 2019. The obituary published in his hometown paper tells us he died in Las Vegas, Nevada, from injuries sustained in a motorcycle accident earlier that day, March 12, along this very road. The cross was welded with careful craftsmanship on a custom-made cross. His name, a cowboy hat, accompanied by a Harley-Davidson emblem, now rests roadside, where the desert wind and sun keep vigil. By the time we reached Jim Nelson’s memorial, the scattered clouds had formed into some scattered storms. It was near 5 o’clock in the afternoon, and the sun was low in the horizon, behind his memorial. It had started to rain as we crouched down to photograph. The resulting photo showed sparkling drops beautifully surrounding his memorial. An empty whisky bottle rests to the left, catching the last light of the day. Two trinkets hang from his cross, offerings left in remembrance. 

Oatman Highway: Beautiful and Brutal

Route 66 has always held mythic status in American culture, the “Mother Road,” a path to freedom, a dream of motion and possibility. But for motorcyclists, particularly those unfamiliar with the terrain, parts of it, especially Oatman Highway, are dangerous.

Oatman Highway’s tight switchbacks, narrow shoulders, lack of guardrails, and sudden elevation changes make it both scenic and deadly. Road trip forums and biker blogs often describe it as thrilling but caution that it’s not for the inexperienced. We’ve read riders’ accounts of overheating brakes, close calls with wildlife, and trouble navigating blind turns.

According to the Arizona Department of Transportation (ADOT) 2019 crash report, motorcycles made up only 3% of registered vehicles in the state but were involved in nearly 16% of traffic fatalities. That same year, 170 motorcyclists were killed on Arizona roads, part of a national trend that has continued to rise. Helmet use, speed, and road familiarity are among the leading contributing factors.

The memorials to Jim and Brian remind us that these numbers are not abstractions. They are fathers, brothers, sons, and friends. And they are missed.

What Are Descansos?

In Spanish, the word descanso means “resting place” and traditionally, descansos were roadside crosses marking the exact spot where someone died or where a casket was laid down and carried no farther. In the Southwest, the tradition remains strong, though it has taken on varied forms: plastic flowers, metal crosses, laminated photos, candles, t-shirts, or bike parts.

For us, the Descansos Project is about listening to those places. Each roadside memorial is more than just a marker, it’s an open question: Who was this person? Who loved them? What happened here? And how do we remember?

We don’t always get answers. But sometimes, we can gather enough to tell part of the story, with care, and without sensationalism. And we hope, those who knew the person reach out to us to share the story of the person remembered, and to tell their story in connection to it. 

Why We’re Telling These Stories

We didn’t know Jim or Brian. We haven’t yet  been able to speak with their families or friends. But we feel the importance of their memory, left visible on the roadside for all who pass. We take our responsibility seriously when we photograph these places.

We hope to honor them, and all those remembered in roadside descansos, by inviting conversation. If you knew either of these men, we welcome your voice. Your stories. Your photos. Your corrections. We will never publish anything beyond what’s public record without permission. But we would be honored to learn more.

We believe in the power of shared memory. And we believe these desert roads, beautiful, brutal, and vast, remembers what we sometimes forget.