Moab

Don’t Wait Until 2029 to Visit Mars. Do It Now by Going to Utah Desert!

The Mars Desert Research Station (MDRS) is a “space” station located near Hanksville.  The Mars Society operates the laboratory in the remote BLM land expanse, which they describe as an “analog to Mars geology”.

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Don’t Wait Until 2029 to Visit the Red Planet

We stumbled upon the Martian research station after exiting onto a dirt road near Hanksville, Utah; population 190. Signs are posted everywhere to not fly drones over the facility, so we didn’t.

Assuming we had finally found the new base where DARPA’s team must be keeping the descendants of Roswell’s Martians (kept alive since their untimely crash in Roswell, New Mexico in the early 1950s), we honored their seclusion and privacy and maintained our distance. We saw no sign of the aliens who are likely being housed inside, still unaccustomed to the heavy high-oxygen atmosphere of Earth.

The Mars Desert Research Station (MDRS) is a “space” station located near Hanksville.  The Mars Society operates the laboratory in the remote BLM land expanse, which they describe as an “analog to Mars geology”. MDRS takes researchers on 2-3 week missions. Crews need to carry out their missions in microbiological and geological laboratories. The station features state-of-the-art aquaponic growing systems as well as a 7.5-foot automated dome telescope.  Sleeping quarters reside in the upper deck of the “Hab”, which is a cylindrical building originally constructed in 2001.

The habitat offers an air lock where biological and geological experiments can be conducted in similar conditions to what the first colonists on Mars might encounter, 

Photo by Richard Markosian.

By 2029, Elon Musk’s SpaceX will land a human on Mars. Musk hopes to accomplish the feat possibly before we destroy planet earth. While the actual planet of Mars is 140 million miles away, and will require over six months of travel time with primarily a CO2 atmosphere, this Mars station was about 14 miles off Cow Dung Road. The methane from cow dung assists in mimicking the Martian high-methane atmosphere.

The facility appeared to be well funded. In addition to the original observatory, there is a robotic observatory that is linked to the Hab via above ground tunnels. The facility includes a solar array which provides enough electricity to maintain all the needs of the inhabitants. Don’t try to speak to the inhabitants or approach the observatory; they don’t want to be bothered.

The operation is a fully volunteer enterprise with over 1,000 people participating in the Martian (alien cover-up) to date. Rumors persist that the Martians living in the Hab want to return home, but they will have to wait until after 2029.

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  • Moab’s Off-Road Legend Dan Mick: Inside Hell’s Revenge and the Fight for Public Land Access

    The story of Moab’s off-road world isn’t just about machines. It’s about the people who have shaped this place — people like Dan Mick, who has spent a lifetime climbing impossible angles and helping others experience the wonder of the slickrock and the trails.


  • Inside Moab’s Political Divide: Land, Tourism, and the Future of Grand County, Utah

    In the late 1950s, Edward Abbey took a job as a park ranger at Arches National Monument, just outside Moab. What he found there, and what he watched happen to it, would shape the rest of his life. Roads were being cut into the canyon country. Cars were replacing foot traffic. The National Park Service, in the name of accessibility, was engineering a kind of industrialization of the wilderness he’d come to love. Abbey wrote about it in Desert Solitaire, published in 1968, and the anger in that book wasn’t abstract. It came from watching something specific be changed by people who either didn’t understand what they had or didn’t care.

    Grand County has long been the most reliably left-leaning county in the state, a fact that puts it in sharp contrast to nearly everything around it. To understand how that happened, and where things stand now, I spoke with longtime residents and politicians who’ve watched it from the inside, people who’ve served in local government and lived through the shifts firsthand.

    Robert Greenberg.

    Bob Greenberg came from New York in 1976, took a job at the community mental health center, and never left. He went on to chair the Grand County Democratic Party and serve on the county council. When he arrived, he said, “the Democratic Party was said to be able to meet in a phone booth” — and even then, its members were a contradictory bunch. Yellow Dog Democrats from the oil patch were fiscally conservative but surprisingly open socially, allowing different demographics to feel safe moving to the county. 

    “The town fathers were desperate to have new people come to town,” Greenberg recalls. “They just didn’t want the people who actually showed up. They wanted some other people.”

    What followed was a demographic shift nobody planned. The people who filled the gap left by the bust were river guides, federal agency workers, artists, and eventually waves of outdoor recreationists discovering that southeastern Utah was among the most spectacular landscapes on earth. Tourism ended up being the only economic development avenue that actually worked. Manufacturing never had the labor force or market access, sewing factories came and went. The people the tourist economy attracted tended to be younger, more outdoor-oriented, and more liberal.

    Kevin Walker.

    Kevin Walker, a former Grand County commissioner who moved here in 1990 for the landscape, puts the county’s diversity in context. “Moab [is] a pretty diverse place since, I think, at least the 1950s with the uranium mining boom,” he says. “So it’s not a typical Southern Utah town.” 

    Part of what makes Grand County distinct is self-reinforcing. Federal agencies like the Park Service, the Forest Service, the BLM, have large presences here and pull in a different demographic than surrounding counties. People looking to live in Southern Utah with certain values gravitate toward the place where those values already have a foothold. Over time, that critical mass has made Grand County what it is politically, while neighboring counties went in very different directions.

    The defining conflict in Grand County has always been over land.

    In the 1970s and 80s, it was extraction versus preservation in the starkest terms. County commissioners floated toxic waste incinerators. A plan emerged to site a high-level nuclear waste repository at the entrance to Canyonlands National Park. 

    “It really, really galvanized environmentalists everywhere, but particularly in Grand County,” Greenberg says. Activists put up signs at the park entrance, watched them get chainsawed down, and came back with steel reinforcement. That stubborn, physical, unglamorous persistence became part of the local political character.

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  • Moab Trail Closures: The Fight Over Public Land Access and Off-Roading

    Trail closures threaten livelihoods and slowly limit access to ordinary families, says Dave Hellman, owner of Xtreme 4×4 Tours in Moab. Wilderness advocates argue that stronger protections are necessary to preserve fragile landscapes. As lawsuits reshape trail access across southern Utah, Moab increasingly sits at the center of a growing conflict over who public lands are really for.