I was about to bail out on meeting Dan Mick, the legendary off-road guide in Moab, and rely on the phone interview and Brian Hale’s photography. When I told Dan my plan, the line went quiet.

“I don’t think that’s gonna work,” he finally said. “You need to come on the tour.”

It had been raining in Salt Lake City that morning, but I pointed my car south and hoped the weather would clear long enough to make the 4 pm tour.

As we climbed onto the sandstone spine of Hell’s Revenge, Dan began a rapid-fire stream of stories. George Schultz laid out the original Hell’s Revenge route, but Dan added many of the obstacles. “including the, The Devil’s Slide (Now Devil’s Staircase), Escalator, Mickey’s Hot Tub, the Belly Button, and the Car Wash,” Dan explains.

“Tip-Over Challenge was part of the original line. I was the second guy to run it with George,” Dan continues. George and Diana Schultz started Red Rock Four Wheelers to keep trails open for family fun and responsible use of public lands. This group, when Dan was president, took over operations of the Easter Jeep Safari, eventually making it a week-long event for its 20th anniversary. Today, Jeep Safari attracts thousands of vehicles per event and sells out all the hotels. Its economic impact is huge. The Times Independent estimates its local economic impact somewhere between $9 and $12 million in 2025. But numbers aren’t Dan’s thing. Instead, he has a story for nearly every rock formation.

Dan pointed out dinosaur footprints preserved in the slickrock. Interestingly, one sandstone with tracks was stolen by locals, then never recovered despite an underwater rescue after being thrown off of the Dewy’s Bridge.

As the Jeep’s suspension flexed over more ledges, he told me about raising his kids on these trails. His daughter was a Jeep pro by 15. His sons learned to drive young too — then to repair Jeeps, tear apart engines, rebuild them, and work in his sprawling home shop. For decades, Dan has been buying, selling, and resurrecting Jeeps.

At the first overlook, a couple from Idaho stood blown away by the view of Sandflats Recreation Area stretching out before us. They were exhilarated, grateful, and thrilled as Dan’s son, Robby, led their tour.

Farther along, the landscape reminded Dan of his beginnings. He arrived in Moab decades ago, newly married and out of the Airforce, in a 65 Pontiac GTO muscle car. The uranium boom had long fizzled, and the town was in an “economic depression.” Dan took a job at a body shop, later bought his own, then sold it to become a full-time Jeep guide.

Dan’s first company was called Canyonland Adventure Tours. He eventually simplified it to Dan Mick Jeep Tours, the name everyone now knows.

At first, he tried Jeep rentals, but it did not go well. “People destroyed my Jeeps,” he said, shaking his head. So he simplified again to guide his own tours.

On a steep ascent, I felt the brakes give out. We rolled backward. My heart stopped. Dan hit the brakes hard. The Jeep jolted. He burst out laughing. “Gotta scare you at least once,” he said. “It’s part of the fun.”

But when I turned the conversation toward Moab’s tourism economy, his tone changed. “People have to understand — this is how we make our living here,” he said. “We can’t shut down these trails. These are public lands for a reason. We need public access.” He added, “People who came here recently don’t want Jeepers in their backyard. But tourism is what built this town.”

Dan then gave me the reason why the travel council has changed its tune regarding off-roading. “I’ve talked to many people who say they go to Sand Hollow now because of the attitude in Moab.” It goes without saying that all of Moab’s off-road community and long-time locals want to welcome those people back.

With four years on the Moab City Council and four years in the military, Dan carries a strong sense of civic duty. He told me he votes Republican for one reason: “Public access. That’s it. Democrats want to close access; Republicans want to keep it open. So I vote Republican.”

Higher up on the trail, another group cheered as Dan pulled the Jeep out of a deep pocket. Their guide called him “Moab’s off-roading living legend.” Visitors from Massachusetts recorded Dan driving us through the steep and narrow crevasse in awe. “Nothing like this back home,” they exclaimed.

On a ledge overlooking the Colorado River, Dan stepped stiffly from the Jeep. He told us about his recent ordeal — falling asleep at the wheel on the way to Grand Junction, totaled the car, breaking his neck and sternum, and re-injuring his back. Months of recovery. Nearly losing everything. Only recently had he felt strong enough to guide again. “Maybe this year I’ll just do one or two tours a day,” he said. “I used to do four or five.”

We talked about Moab’s changes over the years. He shrugged. “I’m fine with it. I like people.” He mentioned the Lion’s Back Resort rising just below Sand Flats — land that went from nearly worthless to hundreds of thousands per acre. Deals made that he doesn’t entirely trust. Dan heard rumors that rooms rent for up to $3,500 a night with the helicopter landing pad. 

But he isn’t bitter about how the wealth and catering to elites are impacting the town. “My kids can live here,” he said. “All seven of them. My grandkids too. And the tour company — yeah, it’ll go on after I’m gone.”

By the time we returned to the trailhead, dusk settling over the red rock, I finally understood what Dan meant when he said I had to come see for myself. 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.

Photos by Richard Markosian.