Hurricane, the last stop on our Utah ’25 Fall Tour.  After so many nice camping sites the last two weeks I was damn determined not to spend it in an RV park, elbow to elbow with a bunch of strangers. In my book, that would be ending the trip on a sour note.

The Airstream is not a Sportsmobile van. It doesn’t have high clearance and was not designed for rough roads. If you don’t know your limitations you are simply asking for trouble. Our goal was a spot off of Sheep Bridge Road. It runs between Utah Highways 59 and 9 at the base of Gooseberry Mesa. We’ve camped in that area twice before, the last time was in 2017. Back then it was a free for all, much like Beas Lewis Flat has become. People were camping where they shouldn’t, destroying vegetation, leaving trash, and generally being shitheads. The Bureau of Land Management temporary shut the place down and created designated sites. It’s still free to camp, but a lot harder now to get a spot. The same thing happened in West Sedona. That seems to be the trend now with all these really popular and easily accessible boondocking spots.

As soon as we turned on to Sheep Bridge Road we could see all the vans, campers, and trailers spread out. The road was in good shape except for being a really bad washboard. We traveled a half mile to the first spur road where some of the campsites are located. We were in total agreement that if we couldn’t get a spot there, we would turn around, the road was just too much.

Amelia parked the rig on the edge of occupied campsite #1. I got my bike out of the back of the truck and went scouting down the road. The road was in horrible shape. It had recently rained hard. There were deep ruts, mud, and standing water. I found a couple of open sites, but no way would we drag Opal through that mess. I was completely defeated and resigned to the fact we’d be heading to WillowWind RV Park.

Pedaling back I could see and then hear Amelia chatting up some girl in her twenties. In just in a matter of minutes they seemed all buddy, buddy. That’s my wife, always making friends. I don’t know who said what or how it was suggested, but the short story was she was willing to share her site with us. They were pulling out the next day anyways, and the site was spacious. It pays to have a friendly outgoing wife!

Kaitlyn was the chatty one just like Amelia. My favorite thing was when she said to Amelia, “My wife’s social battery isn’t as big as mine.” Amelia told her, “Oh, I know what that’s like!” Finally her wife came out of their Class A and she tried to be social, so I decided to get out of the Airstream and try to do the same. Kaitlyn and Marissa are a really nice couple with two rescue dogs. They are full timers on the road, working remotely. I’m bummed I didn’t get any pictures of them. Their backstory is super fascinating, but I’m afraid I’ve already lost your attention with the length of this post, so I’ll skip it. I hope all goes well for them and they stay safe.

Our wonderful site, courtesy of Kaitlyn and Marissa!

Amelia looking like a speck.

Virgin River

Molly’s nipple

The famous Dixie Pizza Wagon has moved to another location yet again. He’s now on the east side of town. I’ve blogged a lot about this place. It has the best wood fired pizza, ever.

So, we rode Little Creek Mesa for the first time in a few years. I don’t know if it’s my age, deteriorating skills, new bike, or the dynamic of only the two of us, but sadly it wasn’t as fun as I remembered it being.

It was still beautiful.

And breathtaking riding along the edge. That’s Gooseberry Mesa behind me.

Stunning

I was really surprised that the trail markers haven’t been upgraded. This is the same sign that was there 15 years ago. Cairns serve as trail guides, not painted dashes like elsewhere. The cairns were knocked down and hard to find. It’s a stressful place to ride, especially when we didn’t see anyone else on the trail. I’d like to try it again someday with a group.

A man in his element.

Tuesday night we were hemming and hawing about when to go home. Wednesday morning we woke up to dark clouds and sprinkles. Mother Nature decided it was time for us to leave. The last thing we needed was to get stuck out there when the spur road turned to shit. The drive home was a little over eight hours.