I also take it upon myself, each time, to bring along a few new faces. A number of these folks, raised in man-made urban jungles, were strangers to the outdoors at first. Moab has never failed to shake them of their indifference. And they return, again and again, to revel in its natural wonders and to happily spend their vacations on its economy. I was therefore quite shocked this year when a collision with Jeep Week's whirlwind nearly ground this magic to desert dust.
Our crew had just returned from a full-moon canyon hike to our campsite at Gold Bar on the Colorado. Five years ago it would not have been our custom to stake down in an official BLM campsite. As we have made our passages from young adults to young professionals, however, outhouses, fire rings, and designated tent plots have blossomed in their appeal.
This year, Jeep Week not only rolled over these notions, it shredded the very idea of physical safety in an official BLM campsite.
Our group had just dispersed for the evening toward individual tents. Legs sore but minds tuned, all looked forward to another night of blissful rest in the silent starlight of Utah. Then came the sudden shout from Jen, the greenhorn from L.A., who had recently become a teacher on Chicago's South Side.
"Guys, there's something wrong with my tent. I think somebody cut it." There was a sea of flashlights as we gazed at the long angular cuts in the tent's fly. Then I spotted them - wide and heavy, where they had laid down the green grass like a mass at Gettysburg.
Tire tracks, all over our site, blazed right down the driveway, right past the entrance sign, right past the outhouse, right past the fire ring with its flurry of furnishings, right into the tree line, and right over her tent. The poles were smashed, the fly destroyed, many belongings inside smashed to sheet metal or bits. We had left at dark and returned at midnight. On another day, Jen could have been in that tent, and likely dead.
I contacted the BLM and the sheriff. They were very helpful and sympathetic, and I have to add that not one spoke without rolling their eyes in bewildered resignation and muttering "Jeep Week." I have never been an adversary of Jeep Week. As a city slicker up to his ears in smog-churning engines, Jeeps are not my own chosen method of wilderness escape, but to each their own.
The folks driving them have always had their fun and so have I. We cross each other often but have never butted paths. I now feel, however, that the leaders of Jeep Week need to be addressed. True, our campsite's perpetrators may not have been their registered guests, but they most likely showed up for the party and are therefore somewhat in their charge.
I contacted David Adams by phone to voice my thoughts on the issue. His response "Shoot, you lost a $70 dollar tent? That's nothing. I had two guys just yesterday blow two grand when they rolled their Jeeps." Perhaps $70 is nothing to one who spends grand sums of their disposable income on rock climbing machines. To a teacher who spends much of their disposable income on taking inner-city children camping, it's a lot. You are offensive, Mr. Adams.
Darker is the fact that Mr. Adams clearly cannot decipher the difference between one who willfully engages in destructive behavior for kicks and innocent bystanders who choose regulated camp sites to avoid it. I mentioned this to him. His response: "Well then, we'd rather not have you here for Jeep Week." As a teacher, I cannot choose the week I come, but fine, Mr. Adams, so be it. Next year, my friends won't be here either.
The leaders of Jeep Week need to face an urgent fact. Other innocent bystanders will descend on Moab in the future. Many, as we did this year, will arrive with no inkling that it is Jeep Week until a motorcade of mud monsters rolls past. At that point, they are not going to hop a plane back to Chicago. They are going to seek out a safe haven to camp, such as an official BLM campsite.
What Moab leadership is failing to see is how close to death's door these campsites are increasingly becoming. They are being pillaged by drunken rednecks who are displaying an ever-growing disregard for human life. No party is worth this cover charge by wanted or unwanted guests.
No amount of dollars earned from Jeep Weekers is worth an innocent life; especially when that person is not behind the wheel of a Jeep, but is enjoying the federal lands for which a resident of Chicago pays as much in tax as any small business owner in Moab.
---
Ross Freshwater is a teacher in Chicago and has been a frequent visitor to Moab.
