Driving out past the town of Delta on a gravel road for a couple of hours, we almost turned around. Following a rain storm, the road is wet and muddy but still decent. Jesse Fisher is worried we’ll get stuck, but we plow through giant puddles of water, and as the clouds lift, we reach the homestead community of Riverbed Ranch, consisting of 1250 acres of reclaimed desert.

Almost like an oasis, Riverbed Ranch is home to 40 families who decided to depart city life, municipal taxes, congestion, air, light and sound pollution, and live in a place among chickens, goats and cows on self-reliant homesteads. 

Describing Riverbed Ranch as “bucolic” would be inaccurate at this point. Sometimes there are purple flowers in the valley, but currently it is a desert — still beautiful, but most of the properties in the sprawling valley are still works-in-progress. But the scale of the valley and witnessing in person the first brand new town to break ground in Utah in 75 years is quite remarkable. 

A few of the 2.5 acre plots consist of a trailer and a fence. Some plots have nice little homes that appear very homemade; others have more complete homes with nice fencing, with nicely organized pens for different animals, orchards and organization. 

Some homes under construction even appear upscale and modern, where the inhabitants are indeed living as modern homesteaders, not seeking “luxury retreats” like so many other empty homes in Utah being built in hot tourist destinations such as Moab and Park City.

We start by speaking with Tom and Kathy Barnes, whose homestead is a model for order and function. Turkeys walk around in their pen, excited for feeding time. Beside the turkey pen is another pen for chickens; one for goats, and another for pigs. All of the pens are connected to a large barn. By the look of their operation, the Barnes appear to be seasoned professionals.

Indeed they are. Tom and Kathy raised their eight children “on a teacher’s salary,” homesteading in Payson, Utah on ten acres, reaching the point where the only store-bought items were toilet paper, shampoo, toothpaste and cashews. Most everything else, including fresh fruits, vegetables, milk and meat were raised themselves.

Tom had just finished feeding his three hungry pigs when he took a moment to talk to me.

“What are the advantages to living on a homestead?” I ask. 

“Listen,” he says. “You can hear a pig eating … Once in a while we will hear a fighter jet pass over but that’s it.” 

The Barnes are calm and content in their semi-retirement. They set up their homestead at Riverbed Ranch five years ago. They already knew homesteading and they realized even in retirement they could help the other inhabitants here, those with less experience, learn how to take on the demanding but satisfying lifestyle.

“It’s basically like an extended family,” says Tom. “We are all like-minded out here. We are all going to help one another when our neighbors need help.”

Tom says he and most of his neighbors are members of the LDS Church, and that most of the city’s LDS members are a part of a ward which makes up their “ward family.” “Out here,” he says, “everybody is our extended family. So we all know we are going to help one another and learn to get along … Like early pioneers in a small town. It’s very much the same thing.

A wild goose chase?

“We could live out here like it was 1849, but we have all of the conveniences of modern society, so why not take advantage of the best of both worlds?”

I wonder how adaptable these modern pioneers are. Raised on a homestead, would these folks ever want to join the modern world again? The Barnes kids are mostly choosing city life, but their kids and grandkids love visiting them, running around free-range. Tom adds, “One of our sons is starting his own homestead in Piute County.”

We drive around on the hard gravel roads and get a sense of how all of the residents here justify the hard-scrabble, off-grid life, which requires living off pumped well water, solar power for electricity, and propane for heat. 

We are aiming to get a sense of the  bigger reason why all of these people are out here, far away from freeways and Walmarts. Are they all latter-day preppers?

With its reinvigorated downtown and close proximity to mountains and river pathways, this northern Utah city is enjoying a renaissance. Ogden’s stock of affordable housing — compared to other metros along the Wasatch Front — currently draws people in for a closer look. 

Utah leaders have spent years talking about affordable housing.

Governor Spencer Cox has repeatedly emphasized the need for more attainable housing, with a goal of creating tens of thousands of starter homes priced below $300,000. Yet despite broad agreement that housing affordability remains one of the state’s biggest challenges, one proposal designed specifically to encourage the construction of smaller, more affordable single-family homes failed to advance during the most recent legislative session.

The question raises an uncomfortable issue: if Utah agrees there is a shortage of starter homes, why are those homes still so difficult to build?

According to attorney and real estate professional Asha Klarich, much of the debate comes down to how communities want to grow and who gets to make those decisions.

House Bill 184, known as the Small Lots and Starter Homes Amendment, was intended to reduce regulatory barriers and allow smaller homes to be built on smaller lots. The proposal would have created a process for builders and homeowners to seek exceptions to local zoning requirements and construct homes on lots as small as roughly 5,400 square feet.

The idea was straightforward. Smaller lots generally mean lower land costs. Lower land costs can translate into lower home prices.

For many first-time buyers, that sounds far more appealing than another apartment building or densely packed townhome development.

“I think most people would prefer a smaller home on a smaller lot than apartment-style living in a high-rise,” Klarich said during a recent discussion about housing legislation.

The bill ultimately failed.

Three days before Ralph Hoffman was killed, Utah Stories interviewed Phillips Plaza residents who described security concerns, unauthorized visitors, and questions about how vulnerable tenants were being supervised. After the murder, many of those concerns remain unanswered.