Rincon Valley Forge

07/04/2026

Today we celebrate , the 250th anniversary of the founding of the greatest nation on Earth. Happy birthday, America!

01/17/2026

01/14/2026

The forge was heating up again recently, this time we’re using up some scraps of rebar (not an ideal material, by the way!). What were we making?

A campfire tripod! Who doesn’t love a cup of coffee made over a fire?

01/11/2026

They say I’ve been gone a hundred years or more… but I never really left the Rincon Valley.

My name’s been lost to time, but once upon a dust-filled day near what you now call Vail, Arizona, I was the town blacksmith. If you listen close — real close — you might still hear the echo of my hammer ringing across the desert air.

Back then, this valley was wide open and raw. Cattle grazed the mesquite flats, their hooves kicking up little clouds as cowboys pushed them toward the railroad tracks. I kept their horses shod and their tools sharp, my forge glowing like a second sun long after the real one slipped behind the Tucson Mountains.

Then the railroad came — a steel serpent hissing across the sand. When the Southern Pacific rolled in around 1880, this quiet stretch of desert turned into a crossroads. Ore from nearby copper mines rattled in by wagon, hauled in from Helvetia and the hills beyond. The cattle came next, driven dusty and loud to the depot — bound for markets far away.

And me? I stood in the middle of it all — soot on my face, sparks in my beard — forging the iron that kept it moving. Wagon axles. Train tools. Horseshoes. Branding irons. If it was metal, it passed through my hands.

My little shop glowed through the night like a beacon. Folks said they could find their way home just by following the sound of my hammer.

When my time finally came, I thought I’d lay my tools down for good.

But the desert remembers.

Some evenings, when the sky burns orange and the shadows stretch long, I still wander the valley where the creosote smells like rain and the wind hums through old cattle fences. I watch modern life roll past — trucks where horses once stood, quiet rails where steam engines sang. But beneath it all, the land still keeps the rhythm of hoofbeats, iron wheels, and the steady clang of my hammer.

So if you ever feel a warm breeze pass you by… or hear a faint ringing, like metal kissing stone… don’t be afraid. That’s just me, the old blacksmith of Rincon Valley, keeping watch over the place that forged my life — and maybe my spirit, too.
🔥⚒️

01/10/2026

These chilly evenings were the motivation behind a project we completed for patio use. While nostalgic, campfire smoke can ruin a nice experience pretty quickly. The smoke is caused by poor combustion of the fuel (in most cases, firewood). We set out to improve that…

This is a double-walled fire pit with a lower air manifold and upper secondary combustion area. Once the fire is built and warm, it virtually eliminates all the smoke. A nice bonus is that it radiates heat outwards warming everyone’s legs while sitting around the glowing fire. 🔥

01/02/2026

Speaking of new projects… look what I drug home recently! It’s a 1960 M105-A2 trailer, originally equipped with a large gasoline-powered generator, this thing is seriously heavy duty.

Unfortunately this won’t be a restoration, as it is donating it frame and bed for another purpose…

Stick around if you’d like to see where we’re headed with this latest project!

01/01/2026

Happy New Year, here's to an exciting and project-filled 2026! We have taken a break for much of 2025, but have some exciting projects planned in 2026!

12/25/2025

From our family to yours, wishing all of our friends, family, and clients a very Merry Christmas.