Picture a November desert evening: marigold-orange sunset, cool air, and a river of candles winding through Tucson streets. That glowing river—known as the All Souls Procession—started as one artist’s tribute to her dad and has grown into a 100-thousand-strong memorial march that still feels personal.
Key Takeaways
• What: A 2-mile evening walk with candles and art to remember loved ones
• When: First Sunday after Día de los Muertos (early November)
• Where: Downtown Tucson, Arizona; alternate parades in Albuquerque, New Mexico
• Began: In 1990 one artist honored her dad; now about 100,000 people join
• Big Moment: A giant paper urn burns notes and prayers at the finish
• Good Spots: Grande Avenue for strollers, Sentinel Peak lawn for easy seating
• Bring: Layers for cool nights, water, folding chair, flashlight, small keepsake for the urn
• Join In: Free mask-making and art workshops run the week before
• Show Respect: Ask before photos, wear thoughtful costumes, keep pets calm and leashed
• Travel Tip: Reserve RV or hotel space 60 days ahead; downtown streets close early.
Whether you’re corralling curious kids, protecting creaky knees, chasing new-media inspiration, planning a two-day date, or craving well-sourced history, the “why” behind this ritual can shape your whole fall itinerary.
Keep reading if you want to:
• Explain the tradition to a seven-year-old in one sentence.
• Score curb-side seats without a mile-long trek.
• Plug your laptop in at a mask-making workshop between Zoom calls.
• Time golden-hour photos—and still make that dinner reservation.
• Trace the leap from Susan Johnson’s 1990 art piece to today’s non-profit, crowd-funded spectacle.
Ready to decide where to park the rig, unfold the camp chairs, and join the candlelight? Let’s dive into the origins—and the modern twists—you’ll want to know before the first drumbeat hits.
Quick-Glance Takeaways
The All Souls Procession unfolds on the first Sunday after Día de los Muertos, typically the second weekend of November, and its core purpose is public remembrance through art. Expect a two-mile route, an evening step-off, and a finale where written prayers are burned inside a papier-mâché urn against the desert night sky. Families find stroller-friendly sidewalks between Grande Avenue and Congress Street, while low-mobility guests sink folding chairs into the Sentinel Peak staging lawn only three city blocks from the action.
If Tucson is too far this year, Albuquerque’s Muertos y Marigolds Parade and Old Town’s candlelit altar walk offer similar spirit closer to Interstate 40. Pack five essentials before you lock the RV door: layers for a 30-degree temperature swing, refillable water bottles, battery lanterns, lightweight camp chairs, and a pocket-sized memento to place in the communal urn. Those items handle 90 percent of what both desert and remembrance rituals throw your way.
From One Daughter’s Grief to a Citywide Ritual
In 1990, Tucson artist Susan Johnson walked downtown with twenty-five friends, costumed in handmade masks, to honor her recently deceased father. That intimate street-theatre performance blended mourning with spectacle, and the raw honesty drew bystanders who spontaneously joined the march. Johnson later told the student press that she “never intended for the event to become as big as it has,” a reflection captured by the Wildcat interview.
Workshops soon sprouted in neighborhood warehouses where anyone could sculpt a puppet or silk-screen a banner. These open studios turned private grief into shared creativity and shifted the look away from a straight Día de los Muertos clone toward a multicultural civic ritual. By 1997 fire dancers and stilt walkers joined, proving that performance art could amplify, not overshadow, remembrance.
Staying Grassroots in a Crowd of 100,000
Managing exponential growth without losing soul is tricky. Organizers formed the nonprofit Many Mouths One Stomach in 2006, and its volunteer board keeps the entire event donation-funded. They also forbid corporate logos, arguing that the absence of branding preserves authenticity and lets artists tackle themes from climate grief to migrant journeys without sponsor vetoes.
Today the procession spans multiple staging zones, LED-lit floats, projection mapping on downtown walls, and a live-stream memorial wall accessed by QR code—modern twists that still bow to the handwritten notes inside the urn. Academic observers, such as those cited in the NatCom study, point to the procession’s public statements on cultural appropriation as a model for inclusive ritual. In short, the spectacle got louder, but the heartbeat stayed human.
Why RV Travelers, Families, Snowbirds, and Nomads Keep Coming Back
Remembrance cuts across age and background, making the procession a low-barrier entry point for anyone with a story to honor. Families see children’s faces light up when a 15-foot puppet bows toward them, and retirees feel comfortable adding a late spouse’s name to the urn without religious hurdles. Digital nomads, meanwhile, snag stunning night-photography content between remote work sprints, turning the ritual into both a creative and emotional anchor for their travels.
The evening timing is a gift for itineraries. Visitors can hike Sabino Canyon or roll through Barrio Viejo’s adobe streets by day, nap in the RV during the warm afternoon, then head downtown as the sun paints the Catalina Mountains in marigold hues. Few events fit so neatly into a weekend road trip while offering emotional depth.
Smart Viewing: Family Zones, Short-Walk Options, and Golden-Hour Perches
Parents aiming for stress-free curb space should arrive around 4 p.m. and settle near the children’s art zone on Grande Avenue. Stroller wheels glide smoothly here, streetlights pop on early, and side streets like Ontario and Simpson provide quick exits if bedtime meltdowns hit. Toss a pair of kid-size ear protectors into the diaper bag; drumming troupes echo off brick walls once the route funnels into Congress Street.
Snowbirds with achy knees prefer Sentinel Peak Park’s grassy apron. The walk from the accessible parking lot is under a third of a mile, portable restrooms line the path, and you’ll still see dancers silhouette against A-Mountain at dusk. Weekend-trip couples chasing dreamy photos should time arrival for 5 p.m.; that’s when drum rehearsal begins, the sky glows peach, and downtown’s string lights flicker—ideal for a handheld long exposure before dinner reservations at nearby Seis Kitchen.
Albuquerque Echo Events When Tucson Is Too Far
New Mexico’s South Valley turns Avenida César Chávez into a sea of marigolds the first Sunday in November. The Muertos y Marigolds Parade mirrors Tucson’s mix of floats, Aztec dancers, and community altars without requiring a six-hour drive. Park a tow car along Isleta Boulevard by noon, unfold chairs, and avoid threading a Class A rig through narrow neighborhood streets.
Old Town Albuquerque hosts candle-lit plaza walks where local musicians strum boleros under 300-year-old adobe portals. Because oversized parking is nonexistent in the historic district, leave the motorhome at American RV Resort and rideshare or hop the Route 66 bus loop. If you crave an even more intimate vibe, head one hour south to Mesilla Plaza near Las Cruces for a twilight procession that winds past flickering luminarias and adobe storefronts.
Road-Ready Logistics: RV Parking, Temperature Swings, and Packing Musts
Reserve your Tucson-area or Albuquerque-area RV site at least sixty days ahead—remembrance season overlaps with post-Balloon Fiesta travel, and parks fill fast. Treat the campground as base camp and rent a compact car; downtown detours during processions rarely accommodate rigs taller than twelve feet. Check route closures the morning of the event, then pad forty-five minutes for police barricades.
Desert evenings drop thirty degrees once the sun sinks, so dress in breathable layers. A fleece, scarf, and knit cap weigh little in the daypack your seven-year-old can carry. Must-pack list: folding chairs, refillable bottles, battery lantern (streets dim after the urn burn), a blanket, and a sealed envelope containing the names or poems you plan to release into the urn.
Join, Don’t Just Watch: Workshops, Tastings, and DIY Altars
The week before the procession, South Broadway Cultural Center in Albuquerque runs drop-in sugar-skull and papel picado classes. Materials fees hover around five dollars, so bring small bills and let younger travelers splatter color without risking your boat-shoe budget. Volunteers guide even the least crafty guests, and finished pieces double as gifts for campground neighbors.
Digital nomads can snag a Wi-Fi-equipped seat at Mercado San Agustín’s courtyard, draft blog posts between mask-making shifts, and earn a volunteer vest that grants back-stage photo access. Couples seeking date-night flair should book a mezcal-and-mole tasting in Old Town—flavor notes of roasted agave pair nicely with the smoky scent of the urn burn later that evening. Meanwhile, every RV site becomes a potential micro-altar: flip a storage bin, drape it with a serape, and illuminate family photos with battery tea lights that respect campground fire rules.
Practice Respect: A Quick Etiquette Guide for All Souls and Beyond
Treat the procession as a communal memorial, not a costume party. Calavera face paint, marigold crowns, and black attire align with the event’s visual language, but superhero masks or pop-culture mashups steal emotional focus. Always gesture for permission before photographing an individual or a private ofrenda; most participants respond with a nod, and you avoid turning grief into a photo op.
Bring a small biodegradable offering—dried petals, a favorite candy of your loved one, or a handwritten haiku—to add to public altars. Keep pets leashed and well away from candles, and disable camera flash during the urn-burning ceremony. Spanish courtesies like gracias and buenas noches soften cross-cultural interactions more than any accessory you can buy.
Side Trips That Deepen the Story
Five miles from American RV Resort, San José de Armijo Cemetery unfolds centuries of headstones etched in both Spanish and English. Visit during daylight, stick to marked paths, and notice how carved doves and clasped hands foreshadow motifs you’ll see on parade banners later.
Round out the remembrance theme with a sunset walk at Petroglyph National Monument. Spiral and animal carvings older than the Roman Empire remind travelers that honoring life cycles predates every modern holiday. Cap your day by gliding up Sandia Peak Tramway: the Rio Grande valley below often bathes in marigold hues, mirroring altar flowers. If night energy still buzzes, cruise Central Avenue’s Route 66 neon signs—swallows, stars, and arrows flicker like reminders that journeys, earthly and otherwise, never really end.
As the last embers of the giant urn drift into the desert night, carry that shared glow back to a place where reflection comes easy. American RV Resort sits just off I-40—close enough to catch Albuquerque’s flickering altars, yet peaceful enough to hear your own stories rise with the stars. Stretch out in a spacious pull-through, upload your night photos on lightning-fast WiFi, or trade remembrance tales with neighbors around the fire pit. Time, like embers, drifts quickly—reserve your site at American RV Resort today and make the road between Tucson’s river of light and Albuquerque’s marigold lanes the smoothest, most comfortable part of your journey.
Frequently Asked Questions
Q: What’s the one-sentence backstory of the All Souls Procession I can share with my kids?
A: It began in 1990 when Tucson artist Susan Johnson led a small, costumed walk to honor her late father, and it has grown into a community parade where anyone can celebrate and remember loved ones through art, music, and candlelight.
Q: Is the procession the same thing as Día de los Muertos?
A: While it borrows imagery such as marigolds and calavera face paint, the All Souls Procession is a separate, secular memorial ritual that welcomes all cultures and faiths and was founded in Tucson, not in Mexico, to let participants mourn in a creative, public way.
Q: How late does the event run, and can families duck out early?
A: The parade steps off around sunset and the urn-burn finale wraps up close to 9 p.m.; you’re free to depart any time, and side streets along Grande Avenue provide quick exits if little ones tucker out before the last drumbeat.
Q: Where’s the simplest place to park or catch a rideshare from American RV Resort?
A: Most travelers leave the rig at the resort, grab a rideshare to the Mercado District stop on Avenida del Convento, then walk three short blocks to the route, avoiding downtown street closures and tight parking altogether.
Q: Are there stroller and wheelchair zones?
A: Yes, the stretch between Grande Avenue and Congress Street has wide, recently resurfaced sidewalks with lowered curbs, and volunteers guide wheelchairs to level curb cuts while families with strollers settle near the Children’s Altar area for extra space.
Q: Can we bring folding chairs, and will we get to use them?
A: Portable chairs are welcome as long as you keep them against the curb; many guests plant them on the grassy apron of Sentinel Peak Park or just behind the front viewing line on Grande Avenue and sit comfortably until the parade arrives.
Q: I have limited mobility—how much walking is really required?
A: If you claim a spot at Sentinel Peak Park or the Mercado terminus, the round-trip walk from accessible parking or rideshare drop-off is under a third of a mile, and you can remain seated for the entire procession and urn ceremony.
Q: Does it cost anything to participate or watch?
A: The procession is free and donation-funded; roving volunteers accept cash or smartphone payments, but you can simply observe, march, or place a note in the urn without spending a dime.
Q: What should we pack for the evening?
A: Layered clothing for a 30-degree temperature swing, refillable water bottles, battery lanterns, light camp chairs, and a small biodegradable memento or written note for the communal urn cover nearly every need from dusk through the finale.
Q: How do we add our own remembrances to the urn?
A: Write names, poems, or messages on paper beforehand, drop them with volunteers walking the route or at stationary collection boxes along Congress Street, and they’ll be sealed inside the giant papier-mâché urn that burns during the finale.
Q: Are there workshops or ways to help before parade night?
A: In the week leading up, open studios in Tucson’s Warehouse Arts District and Albuquerque’s South Broadway Cultural Center invite visitors to build masks, puppets, or lanterns, and volunteering for even a two-hour shift earns you behind-the-scenes access and new friends.
Q: What modern tech or art twists should photographers watch for?
A: Expect LED-lit floats, projection-mapped murals on downtown buildings, and a livestreamed memorial wall accessed by QR code, all of which add vibrant color and motion for night photos without dimming candlelit moments.
Q: Any restaurants or breweries with a view of the procession?
A: Seis Kitchen at the Mercado and Borderlands Brewing on Toole Avenue both sit within earshot of the drums and offer patio seating that faces the route, letting couples sip regional craft brews or tacos while the floats glide past.
Q: Is it worth booking an extra night at the RV resort?
A: Yes, staying Sunday night lets you avoid post-event traffic, relax over campground cocoa, and explore Tucson or Albuquerque side trips like San José de Armijo Cemetery or Petroglyph National Monument the following morning without rushing.
Q: How has the event stayed respectful of its cultural roots?
A: Organizers forbid corporate logos, emphasize community donations, and publish clear guidelines against trivializing grief or appropriating sacred imagery, so the procession remains a sincere, inclusive space rather than a commercial costume party.
Q: What happens if it rains or gets windy?
A: The procession moves forward in light rain with participants encouraged to bring ponchos; only severe weather prompts delays, and announcements post on the official social feeds by noon, leaving you time to adjust your plans from the comfort of your RV.
Q: Can we bring pets?
A: Calm, leashed dogs are technically allowed but strongly discouraged because the dense crowds, drums, and open flames can stress animals, so most RV guests opt to leave pets secured in the rig with ventilation and a calming treat.
Q: Are there similar remembrance events closer to Albuquerque if we can’t make Tucson?
A: Absolutely—South Valley’s Muertos y Marigolds Parade on Avenida César Chávez and Old Town’s candlelit altar walk both deliver community altars, Aztec dancers, and marigold-lined streets within a 15-minute rideshare of American RV Resort.
