After 37 years of calling Sedona home, I had to shake my head when I saw a recent national article describing Sedona as one of the most affordable small towns in America. Affordable for whom, exactly? The accompanying photo showed the world-class Mii Amo Spa at Enchantment Resort — a place most locals only see in glossy magazines unless they can splurge on a $500-and-up room before they browse the spa menu. It made me wonder how that conclusion was reached. Were longtime residents part of the conversation, or was the data pulled by AI from real estate listings and travel sites? Because for those of us who’ve built our lives here through service work, creative gigs, and small businesses, the idea of Sedona as “affordable” feels out of touch with the day-to-day reality.
That curiosity — mixed with affection for this place — led me to dig a little deeper. I started talking with people from all walks of life, from newcomers chasing the dream to locals doing everything they can to stay. And one thing was clear: Red Rock Fever is alive and well. It’s that jolt you feel when you see the landscape for the first time. Suddenly you’re scrolling rental listings, mentally packing your bags back home and looking for a new job in the red rocks. Some call it a spiritual calling; others, love at first sight. Whether you arrive in a luxury SUV or on foot on a tight budget, the feeling is the same — Sedona captures your heart before your budget can catch up. Like any infatuation, people will do almost anything to be near their new love, even when the relationship comes with some bruises.
Curious how others saw it, I started with a poll on Nextdoor and got 100 responses:
Sedona is very affordable. The people I know seldom seem stressed. — 11% (11)
Sedona is somewhat affordable. Most people I know are managing. — 14% (14)
Sedona is not very affordable. It can be difficult to keep up. — 28% (28)
Sedona is not at all affordable. I know people who have had to leave town. — 47% (47)
As with most things in Sedona, there wasn’t a consensus — just a wide spread of opinions. One local pointed out that even a Nextdoor poll can’t capture everyone, especially those who’ve already had to leave because they simply couldn’t afford to stay.
Laura Stewart shared her story: “I was under contract to buy a condo in 2020, but the deal fell through when the appraiser found one investor owned too many units in the complex, making financing impossible.By the time I could try again, prices were already skyrocketing during COVID. Investors were buying above asking, and my shot at owning a home vanished. Since then, I’ve bounced from rental to rental as landlords sold properties or raised rents. I’m lucky to have a place just outside of town now. My dream of buying still exists, but something major would have to change — there’s nothing in my price range anymore.”
Kim Fox put it bluntly: “Sedona is very expensive. I’ve lived here for 15 years, and it’s not cheap. Property tax, sales tax, utilities — all high. Groceries are ridiculous. I mostly shop in Cottonwood or order from Amazon. Younger people are room-sharing, but even that’s tough to find. I have many friends who couldn’t afford to stay, and I struggle daily to make ends meet.”
In contrast, a Sedonan from the Village of Oak Creek pointed out, “It’s situational and depends on where you live. Taxes in Arizona are actually lower than in many states. That’s one reason we bought here nearly a decade ago. Yes, Sedona is pricey — but so are all destination towns. Compared to others, Sedona can still be more affordable. People moving from high-cost states see that difference.”
Wanting to reach beyond online voices, I hit the streets and talked with people not on apps or forums. Behind Whole Foods, I met worker Guy Cedarleaf, finishing a trash run. “I would love to live in Sedona,” he said, “but I can’t afford it. The rent’s just not reasonable. Maybe with roommates I could swing it. It’s a beautiful place — I love it here.”
Then there’s Jennie Bayless, who’s been in Sedona for 35 years but still strings together housing year by year — an eight-month house sit which is followed every year for searching for a four month rental . “There are always unknowns,” she said. “How you’re going to do it, where you’ll end up. Most people I know are on that edge too — trying to piece it together, one step at a time, something that is doable, something that isnt terribly painful.” When I asked what she meant by “painful,” Jennie explained, “It’s how much I have to be to be compromised — how much I don't the privacy I need, have much i have to navigate other people’s stuff, because they dont handle their energy well.” She paused, then added with quiet resolve, “If you’re meant to be here, you’ll be here. It’s not for everyone, but for some of us, we keep finding a way.”
Cindy Morrow, a 40-year Sedona guide who’s spent decades driving jeeps and leading tours, shared a similar story. She and her partner had rented in West Sedona for years before their home was sold. After months of searching the only viable option was Cottonwood. Cindy said she still feels a deep connection to Sedona but admits, “If someone says Sedona is affordable, it’s not reality. Maybe they’ve never been here. The median home price is near a million dollars now. For older folks especially, it’s become nearly impossible.”
Stories like these unfold quietly across town. One longtime resident even delivers expired baked goods and bruised produce to seniors in Sunset Village — a small, informal effort to make sure elders in the community have enough to eat. Groceries keep climbing, and for some, this donated food fills a real gap.
The deeper I dug, the harder the truths became. I started hearing from people who didn’t want to be quoted, who feared exposure might put them at more risk. Some can’t find housing at all. A few live in cars — though sleeping in a vehicle is illegal within city limits — or rotate between forest campsites, dodging the two-week stay limit and dreading the 3 a.m. knock on the window. Many hold steady jobs right here in Sedona
In 2024, the city proposed a program called Safe Place to Park, modeled after similar efforts in other towns. The plan was to use the old Cultural Park site, tucked out of view from other locals and visitors, where people working in Sedona but without housing could legally and safely sleep in their cars. There would have been restrooms, showers, and security. A grant had even been approved to cover the first three years. Despite initial council approval, community pushback derailed the project and it was put on the ballot. In November 2024, Sedona locals voted it down. There is no alternative plan at this time.
So where did those people go? Did they leave Sedona altogether? Or are they still here — still working, still trying to hold on — living quietly in the margins of one of America’s so-called “most affordable” towns?
In the end, I found that my reporting — and the stories shared with me — were only the tip of the iceberg. There are so many more voices out there, each with their own version of what it means to live, love, and struggle in Sedona. Some don’t feel safe speaking up yet, and that’s understandable. But the conversation is far from over. I plan to keep the door open for a part 2, because the real story of Sedona’s “affordability” can only be told by the people living it every day.
Disclaimer: At some point in these conversations, I realized I was asking people to
share very personal and difficult experiences while I hadn’t yet fully
shared my own. I first came to Sedona as a young married woman with a
one-year-old baby. By the time he was two, the marriage had fallen apart
in an ugly breakup that left me with no financial safety net, a child
to care for without child support, and the occasional night with nowhere
to go. Those nights were rare, but unforgettable — like sitting in
front of the West Sedona Circle K at midnight with no place to rest,
wondering how I was going to keep going. Once, a volatile roommate threw
my belongings and my son’s things out onto the porch while we were
gone, effectively evicting us and curing me of any desire for roommates
ever again.
Over the years, I’ve delivered sandwiches, worked at a gas station, sold
art, and guided tours through the same red rocks that keep pulling
people here. I’ve started small businesses — art tours, video projects,
scavenger hunts — always finding one more way to piece things together.
Even now, I keep a few balls in the air just to pay the bills, and I
still go without some basics to make ends meet. Loving Sedona, for me,
has never been cheap.
Photo credits
Drone Pic Sedona and Couple On Red Rocks- Tara Golden
Cindy Morrow In Sedona- Julie Schnibler
