For more than 170 years, Border Monument 111 has stood alone in the San Rafael Valley, a witness to the comings and goings of cattle, jaguars and people.
Where once the indigenous music of native grasses and chestnut-collared longspur could be heard, now the drone of heavy equipment in the creation of a 30-foot steel bollard double-barrier system on the U.S./Mexico border drowns them out.
Border Monument 111 watches, a haunting presence behind bars. Located just west of Lochiel, it is a sentry among many — 276 to be exact — between El Paso, Texas, and the Pacific Ocean.
Worn, weather-beaten, tired: 111 speaks to more than weather. The monument addresses the progression of political, social and cultural norms that have changed since the 1853 Gadsden Purchase. That’s when 29,670 square miles of Mexican soil became part of the Union. A big win for the U.S. looking for a more favorable route for a southern transcontinental railroad. A loss, perhaps, to the binational culture that at one time made no distinction between people in Lochiel and those in La Noria.
Now, the border is transformed. Once a line on a map , it evolved to a fence of wood or wire. Then a Normandy barrier.
Today, this: a $46 billion U.S. taxpayer-funded project — an environmental disruptor and an allegory for relationships with a once-friendly neighbor.
“What I think we’ve seen in border construction in the past 30 — and especially 10 — years is largely about politics,” said Dr. Rachel St. John, history professor at the University of California, Davis. St. John is the author of Line in the Sand: A History of the Western U.S.-Mexico Border.
“It’s important to think about how the idea of what the government is trying to control has changed over time,” she said. “In 1853 many fewer people moved across this border. and neither government was trying to control that movement.”
Initially, fences were erected to control the movement of cattle. The next round of “barriers” occurred as a result of international tensions brought on by the Mexican Revolution (1911-20) and World War I (1914-18.) The intention was more a “gate system” that channeled people through certain areas; a means of monitoring as opposed to stopping the movement of people, St. John said.
The remote Lochiel port-of-entry was shuttered in 1983, with federal officials citing budget constraints and low traffic volume.
Then came the 1990s with the fortification of entry ports, not in remote locations such as the San Rafael Valley. The Normandy-style vehicle barriers were installed later — in 2008 — and allowed the migration of wildlife while effectively blocking vehicle traffic.
Or could they?
Speaking metaphorically, Janet Napaolitano, 21st governor of Arizona and later Secretary of Homeland Security under President Barack Obama, had this response to U.S. attempts to stymie illegal entry into this county: “Show me a 50-foot wall, and I’ll show you a 51-foot ladder.”
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Monument 111 — and its 275 brothers — highlights a time when U.S.-Mexico relationships weren’t so fraught. A time when borders were more arbitrary than definitive.
Following the Gadsden Purchase, a binational survey team was deployed to map the new divide between the two countries, and 52 rock cairns were put in place between El Paso and the Pacific. “The purpose of these border monuments wasn’t so much to keep people out,” said Dr. Carlos Francisco Parra, assistant professor of history at the University of Arizona. Rather, the rock piles were a somewhat primitive way of signaling where Mexico ended and the U.S. began.
The cairns didn’t last long, according to cultural geographer Dr. Daniel Arreola. Arreola, a retired professor from Arizona State University’s School of Geographical Sciences and Urban Planning, was a co-author of the book Monuments, which documents the 690-mile span of obelisks from the west bank of the Rio Grande River to Border Field State Park in San Diego, Calif. Arreola specializes in the study of the Mexican-American borderlands and Hispanic/Latino populations in the United States. He said back then, “the border was a place in statement, but not really in physical form.”
According to Arreola, a second survey took place in the 1880s in an agreement between the U.S. and Mexico that led to more permanent monuments being established. These were known as “Iron Teeth” because they were fashioned from metal. From the original 52, 258 were added, then another 18 later on to fill in gaps or clarify ambiguous stretches of the border. These latter 18 were designated with letters, such as 2A, 2B and 84A, to avoid renumbering the whole series.
“There is no set distance between the monuments,” said Parra, disputing the urban myth that they were positioned one mile apart. In general, monuments were placed within eyesight of one another. Monument 111, for example, is situated where the Santa Cruz River makes one of two passes across the Mexico-U.S. Border. Monument 112 can be seen on a hill in the Coronado National Forest west of Lochiel. Each monument bears inscriptions. One side notes “Boundary of the United States,” and the other “Boundary of the United Mexican States.” Also, “it says you’re not supposed to disturb or move the boundary monuments, punishable by law by both countries,” Parra said.
In 2020 federal contractors discharged controlled explosives on Monument Hill within Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, but reportedly no monuments were destroyed. (The International Boundary and Water Commission, the binational agency responsible for keeping the U.S.-Mexico monuments intact, did not respond to inquiries for confirmation.)
Damage has been done, however, to areas sacred to the Tohono O’odham Nation within Organ Pipe. The destruction was part of a Congressional hearing held Feb. 26, 2020. In the end, cultural and environmental laws were waived to allow construction of the wall.
But here we arrive at an interesting historical fact not often discussed. Much of Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument is, in reality, not part of the U.S. It belongs to Mexico.
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The “Arizona angle” is outlined by Parra in his article Monumental Border Mistakes: Boundary Monument 127 and the Arizona-Sonora Line. Monument 127 is in the Pajarito Mountains west of Nogales. It is where the international boundary makes a sharp turn northwest toward the Colorado River.
Oopsy. There’s about 270 square miles here that actually belongs to Mexico. Let’s explore that with Parra.
The U.S. and Mexico border commissions began mapping the U.S.-Mexico border on Dec. 4, 1854. The U.S. commission was led by Major William Emory. José Salazar y Larregui headed the Mexico Commission.
It seems that when the time came to map the border in the Pajarito Mountains, the Mexico Commission arrived late due to the political turmoil in Mexico following the revelation Lopez de Santa Anna sold more national territory to the United States, Parra noted. Emory’s team had already surveyed the area and pressured the Mexican Commission against conducting their own survey to avoid further deals. Consequently the U.S. Commission placed the angle at 31 19’56.40” north: “4.41 miles too far west of the correct coordinates mandated by the Gadsden Purchase Treaty.” This gave the U.S. that additional 270 square miles.
Parra said the mistake wasn’t discovered until 40 years later. Since then, “light” efforts have been made to correct the error, the latest being in the 2000s when Patricio Martinez Garcia, a representative to the Mexican National Congress from the state Chihuahua, raised the issue. “A lot of people — even in Mexico — didn’t take it too seriously,” Parra said.
In the end the U.S. got a smokin’ deal, including copper, gold and silver found west of Nogales, according to Parra’s research.
The rest, as they say, is history.
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Back to St. John, who cites scholar Peter Andreas, in her book. Andreas, author of Border Games: Policing the U.S.-Mexico Divide, is the John Hay Professor of International Studies at Brown University’s Watson Institute for International and Public Affairs. He describes U.S. border enforcement as a “politically successful policy failure.” He contends it fails to deter unauthorized migration or drug smuggling — merely redirecting those activities to more dangerous terrain. At the same time, it is politically successful because it projects a “powerful image” of state control, reassuring the public that action is being taken.
In a response to an inquiry as to prevalence of drug traffic through the San Rafael Valley, John B. Mennell, Customs and Border Patrol Public Affairs Specialist out of Tucson, said agency does not release statistics below the “sector level.” The San Rafael Valley is located within the Tucson Sector, which spans 262 miles of the Arizona border.
“Think of it as a vulnerability … traffic always shifts based on enforcement posture … including barriers,” Mennell wrote in response to a PRT inquiry. “As one area is closed down, smugglers will shift to areas which are more accessible.”
For her part, St. John believes building a fence and putting more money into the border patrol is “a political winner” but not good policy. “It does not address any of the issues we have.”
Arreola has his own take. “It’s an overreaction, obviously, of not knowing how to deal with an impossible situation.”
Another book on the topic was written by Michael Dear, Why Walls Won’t Work: Repairing the US-Mexico Divide. “It is a wonderful assessment of this whole situation and how walls have never really kept people out the way they were intended,” Arreola said. Hadrian’s Wall, the Great Wall of China, the Berlin Wall were all band-aids. Eventually, they come down.
Or they remain as tourist attractions, not the original intent.
“No matter how big a wall you build, the things that are happening right on the other side of that wall are going to affect you. And you need to continue to be engaged and support people there.”
Dr. Rachel St. John, University of California, Davis
Asked about the next phase of this trajectory, St John was reluctant to look into a crystal ball, using the word “unpredictable” to describe the current scenario.
“One thing I do think is important given the history of tensions between the United States and Mexico is that often these tensions come from different parts of the countries,” St. John said — people living in places that have never experienced what is really happening. “But because it’s the nation, they think they should have some say in what is happening in this place.
She believes most people living along the border like living there. Many have friends and family in both countries. The commerce that occurs between the two countries is important. Take agriculture. In 2025, the U.S. imported $43.8 billion in agricultural products from Mexico, with 70.7% made up of fruits, vegetables, beverages and distilled spirits, according to the U.S. Department of Agriculture’s Economic Research Service.
“No matter how big a wall you build, the things that are happening right on the other side of that wall are going to affect you. And you need to continue to be engaged and support people there,” St. John said.
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East of Lochiel, Border Monument 111 marshals on. Fall has come to the San Rafael Valley, a beautiful season. Common sunflowers are in abundance. The aroma of wet vegetation perfumes the air following summer rains. Cicadas sing their swan song, knowing winter will be their demise
This will be the first year 111 does not receive visits from jaguars, black bears, ocelots and pronghorn. The circle has been broken, migration halted. But 111 continues to watch. Because things can change. They always do.