Today, Camelback Mountain feels permanent. Iconic. Untouchable. On any cool morning, hundreds of hikers line up at Echo Canyon and Cholla Trail chasing summit views and bragging rights.

But Camelback’s future as public land was never guaranteed.

There was a very real moment in Phoenix history when the mountain could have become one of the most exclusive hillside neighborhoods in the Valley.

In the early 1900s, much of Camelback and the surrounding land was privately owned. Phoenix was still small, surrounded by farmland and open desert. Mountains were not yet viewed as essential recreation space. They were seen as potential.

After World War II, Phoenix exploded in growth. Air conditioning changed everything. Subdivisions pushed outward in all directions, especially into Arcadia and Paradise Valley near the base of Camelback. Developers quickly recognized the mountain’s value. Elevated lots meant premium views. Premium views meant premium home prices.

Portions of the land were subdivided. Conversations began about improving access and extending roads higher onto the slopes to serve custom homes. In that era, building into foothills was not unusual. Across the Valley, desert hills were being carved into residential tracts.

Camelback could have easily followed the same path.

By the 1960s, Phoenix was one of the fastest growing cities in the country. Development pressure intensified across the metro area. At the same time, a new idea was gaining momentum: preserving desert mountains for public use.

The concept of a mountain preserve was still relatively new. There was no automatic protection. No guarantee. It required funding, political support, and public buy in.

The City of Phoenix began acquiring parcels of land around Camelback piece by piece. Some acquisitions came through bond programs approved by voters. Others came through negotiated purchases. It was not a single sweeping action. It was incremental and strategic.

Each parcel secured meant one less potential driveway, one less hillside foundation.

The process took years. Without that persistence, development momentum might have won.

Imagine driving through a gated subdivision halfway up Camelback’s flank. Instead of a dusty trailhead parking lot, there might be a guardhouse. Instead of switchbacks and boulder scrambles, there could be cul de sacs and private patios facing the sunset.

The summit views that now belong to anyone willing to climb could have been reserved for a handful of homeowners.

That was not a dramatic, far fetched scenario. It was a plausible outcome during a period when Phoenix was rapidly converting open desert into neighborhoods.

Camelback Mountain is now one of the busiest urban hiking destinations in America. It anchors the identity of Phoenix as a desert city that embraces its landscape rather than leveling it.

But that identity was shaped by deliberate choices.

The preservation of Camelback required residents and leaders to think long term. It required voters to approve funding. It required the belief that open space had value beyond immediate development revenue.

Every time you reach the summit and look across the Valley, you are standing on land that very nearly became rooftops instead of ridgelines.

Camelback is not just a hike. It is proof that cities can grow and still protect what makes them unique.

And in a metro area that continues to expand, that lesson may matter more than ever.

Rooftops or ridgelines. Someone chose, wisely.