Celebrating Thanksgiving Camping in the Moab Desert

Turns out, you can nearly cook an entire Thanksgiving dinner over a campfire in the Moab desert, green bean casserole and all. The turkey however, well that was deep fried. In the true spirit of Thanksgiving, a group of friends got together, inviting their other friends as well, and pretty much anyone else who wasn’t going home for the holiday. Of course, we were late to this tradition, which our friends had been taking part in for a handful of years now. Yet, somehow getting a group of 18 people to meet up miles down a dirt road on public land, in a place with zero cell service, wasn’t even the hardest part. Somehow, building a fire ring big enough to have five dutch ovens simultaneously cooking over the hot coals was much more difficult. Despite the frigid temps, eating a Thanksgiving spread by our campfire with new and old friends, was a great way to spend the holiday. 

Courtney and I loaded up the Jeep for a camping trip for the first time since having a truck or the van. With plans to spend 4 or 5 days down in Moab, we packed the Jeep with our Yeti 45, a big camp box for all the cooking, tons of clothes to keep us warm over the weekend, and dusted off an old 3 person 4 season tent. Leaving just enough room for Gregor to have a comfortable seat, the car was packed to the ceiling, leaving just enough room to grab some firewood from a Maverick on the way down south. Armed with a rough idea pin for a campsite we hoped to secure for the group, we turned up seven mile canyon and onto the dirt roads of Bartlett Flat. We turned off the well maintained forest road and down onto the loose doubletrack that took us to near the edge of Hell Roaring Canyon where we navigated over a few steps and bumps to a perfectly isolated camp for the holiday!

With most of the group not arriving until that night or on Thanksgiving the following day, Court and I took in the first of our early sunsets lighting up the near cloudless sky in pinks and oranges before the cold crept in for the night. Slowly but surely, friends started to show up through the night, filling in the small fire ring, one chair at a time. The real weekend’s fun didn’t begin until Thursday morning when the gang all loaded into one of the trucks to roll over to a distant section of the desert so that we could shoot targets with a loadout of 22 caliber pistols and rifles. Finding the right back stop, behind a dirt mound, we setup empty cans, small pumpkins, and a spinning target for us to send rounds down range on the freedom that public lands provides! There are few things that make the romanticized West still feel alive and well than pulling the trigger on a Ruger Wrangler 22 six round revolver. All we were missing were the horses and a pot of coffee boiling over an open fire to make us really feel like cowboys. Plus we competed in a stand, sit, prone contest at 30yds with a small rifle that was zeroed into perfection.  

With most of the morning being spent emptying one ammo box after another, we eventually headed back to start the Thanksgiving feast fit for kings and queens. With Ben responsible for preparing the full turkey for the group, the oil was brought up to 350F over the flame from the propane burner, then, with the flame extinguished and an eager audience holding their breathe, the turkey was lowered into the scalding oil with little fan fair. While the turkey was cooking, I was a part of the group responsible for getting the fire big enough to get get a ton of hot coals ready for the various dishes to be cooked over the fire. Over the next couple hours, the group, growing by the minute, started to place their casseroles, mac & cheese, Brussels sprout on the coals to prep for dinner. Admittedly, since we did not get the memo about the size of this group, Courtney and I were huddled around our trusty Coleman camp stove from the 80s, preparing our instant mashed potatoes and stuffing for the group that was now exceeding 15 people from the six that we expected. Slightly embarrassed by the effort, or lack there of, that we provided, at least they were delicious and complimented well with all the other incredible dishes that we loaded onto our plates sitting near the fire. The only downside to the meal was that I managed to place my seat in the absolute worst spot, downwind of the fire, and smoke was equally consumed with each bite.

Hungover the following morning from not only the whiskey passed around the campfire into the night, but also too many plates of seconds followed by spoonfuls of pies and apple crisps. Slowly but surely, the group rose from their tents for their morning coffee in their french presses. Nearly all the group headed off in all different directions to enjoy the endless outdoor pursuits in Moab, some going climbing, others canyoneering, while most headed in town to rent a side-by-sides to attempt the Fins & Things route. Courtney and I also headed into town, but to do something new to us. A few miles south of town, we pulled into the trailhead to hike the Hidden Valley Trail. A lesser known hike, outside the ever popular trails in the national parks, was a perfect alternate to go hike with our dog Gregor which is a rarity compared to the normal desert activities we find ourselves in most weekends.

Heading up from the trailhead, it is steep, rocky, and accompanied by high heart rates which are the most accurate descriptions I can think of. The dog made light work of the perpetual switch backs and rocky steps that range from 6 inches to 3 foot climbs. Though it was a bit chilly at the start in the shade, our elevated heart rates kept the layers off as we hiked uphill. After 600 feet of vertical gain in the first 0.6 mile, you reach the crest of the trail which opens up into a lush, grassy valley between a massive sandstone cliff to the west, and a smaller rocky ridge to the east. Passing through the valley, whose trail has become wider and wider each year from the original singletrack, towards a pinnacle on the far end of the valley. Continuing up the trail, climbing around the pinnacle, you find yourself with a remarkable view looking back down the valley with the snow capped La Sal Mountains off in the distance, surrounded by the iconic red rock desert that surrounds Moab. Really any direction you look, you’ll find stunning views of Arches or Canyonlands from a distance, and tons of other regions that would be national parks if found anywhere else in the country. To add to our joy, Gregor was having an even better time bouncing around on the trail and climbing over every little feature in hopes of finding new things to smell (or eat).

Once we returned from our hike, definitely more exhausted than when we left, my buddy Paul invited me to head out for a dirt bike ride before dinner around the campfire. Mind you, I just rode for the very first time the day before, a couple hours be fore we sat down for Thanksgiving dinner. Thinking I was just heading out for a quick out-and-back to a neighboring campsite or overlook, it ended up being so much more. Following Paul, who was riding our friend’s KTM 500 EXC-F 6 Days, we bombed down the road to the next camp that overlooked the a canyon that we’d been camping at for years. Seeing that I wasn’t lagging too far behind, we headed down to a sandstone slab with steps up to a hillside. Not thinking anything of the obstacle, I followed Paul up the steps and the slabs without dropping the bike. A huge accomplishment for me tackling those features which wouldn’t be much on a mountain bike, but definitely a struggle with a bike this big. With throttle doing all the hard work, we pressed on down the road where Paul pointed out small hill peaks with oil rigs on them for us to check out. And with no planning at all on distance, vert, or grade, we just twisted the throttle and headed off.

Over the next 15 miles, I followed Paul’s track through the rocky, steep roads that I’d never explored before. These roads, tho very accessible, would rattle the bolts off all the vehicles we’ve driven down to camp through the years. The bikes soft suspension made climbing the terrain feel effortless, especially at a speed that simple would be unstable in a normal roadworthy vehicle. We climbed up the hills, rounded rocky turns to check out one campsite after another. With no idea where the road would take us, we slowly made a large loop, with the aptly named “Big Mesa”, near the Navajo Rocks being our cardinal direction to point the bikes towards to make a loop. The terrain overall, was not technical, but some baseball sized rocks made for tricky climbs and descents where I struggled not to lock up both the front and rear wheels when slamming on the brakes to navigate a turn in the road. For more of the dirt biking story, follow the link here.

The night time brought back the frigid temps that had us huddled around the fire, passing around a bottle of whiskey to stay as warm as possible. The dogs were wandering camp to find any scraps of food left over from dinner, or in our case, cuddling next to someone in our Kelty Loveseat camp chair. Having spent the entire last year back in North Carolina, I was really missing this. The friends around a camp fire, the vast open desert of public land, the exhaustion of hiking and activities all day earning those beers. Really, I missed all of it, and it felt great to be back. I really can’t wait to do it again next year, assuming we get invited back.