Debate

Off-Roading in Moab is Still Wide-Open for Business

Off-roading and Jeeping are big business in Moab. What kind of impact will the new trail closures have on locals as recreationists and environmentalists face off.

|


Easter weekend is one of the largest gatherings of Jeep and off-road enthusiasts in the world. Moab, Utah has gained a reputation for being one of the best places to off-road for a number of reasons. But as I’ve been told, the main reason is that the uranium mining boom in the 1940s and 1950s in Moab led to the building of some of the most interesting roads and trails through some of the hardest rock found anywhere.

It was thanks to “greedy miners” seeking yellow cake uranium that the trails were carved out and formerly inaccessible canyons and spectacular scenery were made accessible. This led to the creation of the Shafer Trail and White Rim Trails, which are arguably some of the best off-road vehicle trails in the world. And while neither of those trails were included in the BLM closures, there are other trails designated under “protected status” that are now closed to vehicle travel. Now, Moab’s off-road community is quietly voicing their opinions on these closures.

Crossing “The Crack” on Golden Spike Trail. Photo by Connie Lewis.

In 2023, the Bureau of Land Management closed 317 miles of OHV trails west of Moab. The trails closed were in the Labyrinth Rims/Gemini Bridges Special Recreation Management Area, and 300,000 acres in Grand Canyon that abuts a 40-mile stretch of the Green River.

Trails closed included Day Canyon Point, Deadman Point Overlooks, Hell Roaring Canyon, Hey Joe Canyon, Mashed Potatoes, and Ten-Mile Canyon

 The closures were made for preservation purposes. The BLM claimed that road closures were necessary to protect riparian habitats, preserve cultural resources and minimize damage to watersheds and vegetation. They also said conflicts between motorized and non-motorized users were used as a justification for some road closures.

Environmentalists were happy with the closures while motorists felt unheard. State leaders also called the road closures an example of federal overreach

Sharing the trail on Poison Spider Mesa. Photo by Connie Lewis.

Both the State of Utah and motorized recreation groups have appealed the BLM decision, and a decision from the Interior Board of Land Appeals will be made in October, 2024. The roads remain closed pending the appeal. The off-roading groups also appealed to federal court to keep the roads open until a final decision could be reached. U.S. District Judge Dale Kimball denied the preliminary injunction. 

The Salt Lake Tribune reported, “On the last day of the 2024 session, the Utah Legislature passed HB471: Public Lands Possession Amendments, sponsored by Rep. Phil Lyman, R-Blanding, who is running for governor this year. The legislation says that Utah and its counties can “disregard any attempted closure of a road without due process.”

The Bill passed and goes into effect May 1, 2024.

Many popular trails were not included in the closures, including Hells Revenge, Poison Spider Mesa, Top of the World, and more, but people can still come from all over the world to ride Moab’s trails.

One of the key factors for justifying the closures is that some motorized off-roaders were not staying on the trails. The problem is that if even just a few motorists don’t remain on the trails, it spoils it for everyone because the ecosystems are easily damaged. 

Utah Stories reached out to two Moab area locals who both operate off-road touring companies for their opinions on the closures.

Jason Taylor is the owner of Canyonland Jeep Rentals. He says that his business has experienced little to no impact so far because “Most of the people who rent jeeps from us don’t generally go to the areas that were closed. Those areas are harder to get to and people who rent from us usually want a mellow, scenic trip closer to town. Some of the trails that were closed, like Mashed Potatoes and Hey Joe Canyon, are usually frequented by people who have their own vehicles. Not a whole lot of people went there.” 

Taylor added that the greater problem is the public’s perception. 

“Where it has hurt us is the media perception of Moab being shut down or closed. It is coming across in the media and through certain groups that all of Moab is closed, that they’ve closed down everything. It’s not true. There are still a lot of trails open where our clientele would generally go. That being said, I hate to see the trails that were closed shut down. They provide recreation for certain.” 

Taylor continues: “People who heard about closures come in and want to rent Jeeps, but they’ve heard everything is closed. We are able to show them areas that are open. Not everyone who comes in has heard about the closures. It is probably about 50/50. People from out of state have mostly not heard about it.”

Furthermore, Taylor says, “We are not involved in the lawsuits although we support keeping the trails open. It is  all about conservation and people staying on the trails. We do a good job of educating people to correct trail behavior. It is hard to judge at this point if business and tourism will drop in Moab due to the trail closures. The season just started and we won’t be able to see the consequences and repercussions until the end of the season. We would also need to take into account what happens with other rental places in town. Our company does not provide tours like some of the other places; we strictly do rentals. I think the tour companies will see a bigger impact.”

Photo courtesy of Navtec.

Brian Martinez is one of the owners and operators of Navtec. Navtec, unlike Canyonland Jeep Rentals, does offer fully-guided tours from a big lineup of Land Cruisers. Martinez says that the closures have indirectly impacted his business. 

Our 4×4 tours are mainly in the National Parks backcountry, but we get a lot of calls asking if Moab is closed. I also field questions from raft rentals on Labyrinth concerned that Mineral or the road to Ruby Ranch was part of the closures.”

Martinez says he did see fewer visitors last year than in the previous few years, but there were other contributing factors for the decline. Covid was a massive boon for Moab touring companies because outdoor activities saw an increase in that period. But Martinez says the closures have negatively impacted Moab’s image. 

The public in general is very confused about what is closed. Do a Google search and you get articles describing the controversy but no specifics,” he said.

Martinez added that he recently spoke to some German tourists visiting Moab and all that they knew was that, “It closed its trails.” Martinez added that it would be nice to have an authority list the closed trails from the final decision,” but he added, “Good luck deciphering the maps.” 

Utah Stories asked: Do you have an official position on the closures? 

“I don’t think they took a balanced approach. I spend a lot of time recreating in that area and I have not seen the level of conflicts that would warrant closures. I camp, hike, mtb, shoot, dirt bike, and boat all over that country. I also operate commercial labyrinth canyon river trips, rent boats and run shuttles for private river runners. Overall, the previous multi-use management of the area appeared to be well balanced. The mining history and roads associated are part of the significant statement of Canyonlands National Park. While these closures are outside and not protected by the park, their significance is no less. The roads that were closed have generational ties to families and the land.”

US: Would you like to see the decision reversed, or not? 

“Yes, I would like to see a common sense approach to this and all six of the management plans open in this area. I’m tired of the winner’s and loser’s game. Let me tell you, special interest groups are not looking out for you.”

US: Do you think trail etiquette and education would be as effective as closing trails?

  “These closures are due to lawsuits from wilderness groups. Trail etiquette and education have been going on for a long time and have been shown to be very effective. I see more friendly encounters on the trail than disrespect, but there is a need for more education and enforcement in all of the backcountry. Closures are the lack of management as access is denied to all but a very few. This is nothing more than a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum because he can’t have the sandbox to himself.”

US: Do you have a favorite trail that is now no longer accessible to you? 

“My two boys grew up dirt biking in Ten-Mile Wash. I don’t have that privilege anymore.”

Feature Image of Moab by Richard Markosian.

, ,


Join our newsletter.
Stay informed.


  • 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.

    Continue reading and support independent Utah journalism with a purchase of Utah Stories (Digital + Print) or 3 month free trial (Digital).


  • The Stratos Project Was Already Approved. So Why the Public Meeting?

    Thousands showed up to protest. The decision may have already been made.

    When thousands of Box Elder County residents packed the fairgrounds to protest the proposed 40,000-acre Stratos data center, they thought they were confronting the people in charge.

    They weren’t.

    The county commissioners stood at the front of the room, absorbing the anger, the frustration, the disbelief. They looked like decision-makers. But by their own account, they weren’t.

    Because the decision may have already been made—long before the public ever showed up.

    The Illusion of Authority

    What happened at that meeting wasn’t civic engagement. It was something closer to theater.

    No meaningful public comment. No real debate. No clear path for residents to influence the outcome. Just a room full of people reacting to a project that, structurally, may already be locked in.

    Why?

    Because the real authority doesn’t sit with Box Elder County.

    It sits with the Utah Military Installation Development Authority.

    Once MIDA designates a project area, the rules change. Local zoning can become irrelevant. Private land stays private. Water rights remain private. And the role of local government shifts from decision-maker to facilitator.

    In plain terms: the county doesn’t decide if the project happens. It helps manage how it happens.

    So when residents showed up demanding answers, they were asking the wrong people.

    A Process That Skips the Public

    That should concern anyone paying attention.

    Because it flips the normal order of things. Instead of:

    Proposal → Public input → Decision

    We get:

    Decision → Public meeting → Reaction

    And by the time the public enters the room, the real levers of power have already been pulled.

    So what exactly was that meeting?

    If commissioners don’t have authority to stop the project, then the meeting wasn’t about deciding anything. It was about absorbing pressure. Managing optics. Creating the appearance of a process that had already moved on.

    That’s not transparency. That’s choreography.

    Follow the Missing Pieces


  • Did Utah Leaders Already Sell Out Tremonton to Big Tech?

    When Kevin O’Leary appeared on Fox Business and casually announced that Utah would soon become home to what could be the largest AI data center project in the world, many Utahns had the same reaction:

    Wait… this was already approved?


  • The Stratos Project and Corporate Power: Who Controls Utah’s Future?

    If we were all just consumers, Governor Cox, Mike Lee, Speaker Schultz, and Kevin O’Leary would have it easy. If we were just more concerned about money, jobs, and tech, and less concerned about raising our kids in communities (not in front of screens), culture, the environment, and water, those smart dudes would get exactly what they want — Stratos: a city of the future, buzzing with processors and transistors, making all of our AI dreams come true! 

    The world we could live in would be a dazzling, Mr. Wonderful kind of place. We would beat those pesky Chinese in the AI war; our AI robots could do all of our farming and ostensibly harvest the water we need for the Great Salt Lake out of thin air. But apparently, we just don’t get it. We haven’t yet reached the point predicted by Aldous Huxley’s vision in Brave New World, where we are completely distracted, dopamine-driven consumers who only need sex, drugs, and stuff to remain happy.

    Maybe Stratos will be an amazing marvel, and somehow, as Governor Cox claims, “. . . add more water to the Great Salt Lake.” But we aren’t sold. While this Stratos project has received considerable attention, it’s worth taking a step back to attempt to understand how corporate power appears to have usurped civic power.

    Civics is the practice of shaping our society through our collective voices and community involvement. Ask the residents in Tremonton, Utah how well that is working out for them. Can we still shape our world through our elected leaders? Does it matter who we vote for at the ballot box if organizations like UDOT, UTA, and MIDA can supersede our local government authority and citizen backlash? 

    The corporatization of our communities and the interests that impact our political leaders’ decision making processes are seen as far more of a concern than the average Utah resident’s concerns. Special interests and corporate power are shaping Utah’s future more than ever. 

    It’s worth asking: ‘How can we regain control over shaping Utah’s future in light of the growing power and billions that the technocrats now wield in shaping our world today?’ Amazon’s market cap exceeds the GDP of Canada. The “Magnificent Seven” tech stocks now have a greater market cap than the entire GDP of Europe ($23.6 trillion. EU countries have $19.3 trillion GDP). Will tech companies become their own nation-states and dominate their own chunks of various states? Will we become their subjects?

    There are two sides to this coin: We love Utah not just because we have the most outdoor wilderness playgrounds, but also because of Utah’s prosperity and job market. This is because Utah has become a tech hub. Our tech leadership has minted several billionaires and billion-dollar businesses. Utah offers a market and an educated workforce that more businesses and giant corporations want to be a part of. This is a benefit for even non-tech Utahns.

    The problem with this success is that as we dole out more money to attract more tech businesses, data centers, fulfillment centers, and big corporate retailers, it becomes more difficult to carve out our “sense of community.” As corporate sovereignty replaces local business sovereignty, we see that our voices and our votes matter less.

    Ask who our politicians work for, and nearly every Utahn believes they work far more for their corporate donors than they work for the average Utah citizen. So how do we best regain control over our communities?

    Continue reading and support independent Utah journalism with a purchase of Utah Stories (Digital + Print) or 3 month free trial (Digital).