"What Could Possibly Go Wrong? A Weekend in the San Rafael Swell"

San Rafael Swell: Water, Horses, Helicopters, and New Friends

When we left Sandy for the San Rafael Swell on the first weekend of May, we thought we were prepared.

As it turned out, the desert had other plans.

The destination was the Equestrian Campground deep inside the San Rafael Swell, a spectacular corner of Utah surrounded by red rock cliffs, winding canyons, and endless desert vistas. The Bureau of Land Management website warned visitors that there was no running water. We took that seriously.

Very seriously.

We loaded our 100-gallon water bladder, a separate 40-gallon water container, two horses, two dogs, our three-year-old son Leo, and enough supplies for several days in the backcountry.

What we didn't know was that our first challenge had already begun before we even arrived.

The Great Water Disaster

After several hours on rough roads, we pulled into camp and discovered that the valve on our 100-gallon bladder had somehow opened during the drive.

Every drop was gone.

One hundred gallons of water had disappeared somewhere between Sandy and the San Rafael Swell.

Fortunately, we still had our backup 40-gallon container. It wasn't ideal, but it was enough to get us through the first day and hopefully the next.

At least that was the plan.

When Blaze Went Down

The following morning, we saddled up and headed toward Calf Canyon.

The ride was beautiful. Towering canyon walls, cottonwoods, and a gentle stream cutting through the desert landscape.

About two and a half miles into the canyon, things suddenly changed.

Blaze, our older horse, began dropping to his knees.

Then he started falling sideways.

Fortunately, it happened slowly enough for Elisabetta to react. She managed to get Leo's feet out of the stirrups before the horse went down completely.

Unfortunately, her right leg became trapped underneath Blaze.

Walking back to the camp.

Thankfully, she wasn't seriously injured, but the ride was over.

She walked back to camp while I continued on with Leo.

It was a sobering reminder that things can go wrong very quickly in remote country.

And this was only Day Two.

Losing the Rest of the Water

Back at camp, I made the decision to go find water.

Surely somewhere along Interstate 70, there would be a gas station with a truck water spigot.

One and a half hours later, after navigating rough back roads and eventually reaching the interstate, I found one.

Success.

Or so I thought.

The rough roads had apparently thrown our backup water container around enough to snap off its spigot.

The entire 40 gallons had leaked out.

Now we had lost all of our water.

Both containers.

In less than 24 hours.

Fortunately, I was able to refill the 100-gallon bladder and return to camp. Crisis averted.

For now.

Testing the Communications System

The water adventure gave me an unexpected opportunity to test our new communication setup.

I had recently installed a Midland MXT575 50-watt GMRS radio in the truck, while Elisabetta carried a Rocky Talkie Expedition radio back at camp.

The terrain between us included a small mountain, and there was no direct line of sight.

Yet we were still able to communicate from roughly four miles away.

For most families, this probably sounds excessive.

For us, it's the beginning of a larger project.

Because one of us is usually riding while the other stays back with Leo, the dogs, and the trailer, I've been slowly turning our horse trailer into something resembling the command posts we used during search-and-rescue deployments.

The long-term plan includes an extendable mast, a high-gain GMRS antenna, and eventually a portable repeater system.

Nothing dramatic.

Just enough infrastructure to stay connected if something minor goes wrong.

After this trip, that idea suddenly felt a lot less theoretical.

Idaho Mule Riders and Cowboy Hospitality

That evening the trip took a much more pleasant turn.

A group of mule riders from Idaho invited us over for dinner.

One of their wives had prepared a large stew, and they generously insisted we join them.

It turned out to be one of those evenings that reminds you why you travel.

Stories were exchanged.

Maps were studied.

Pictures of Idaho backcountry adventures appeared on phones.

Within an hour we were already discussing future riding trips to Idaho.

The food was excellent.

The company was even better.

Frosty Meets a Helicopter

Sunday morning Elisabetta decided not to ride Blaze.

We still weren't sure why he had gone down the previous day.

Our best theory is that Blaze, who goes barefoot, may have become hoof-sore during one of the recent Backcountry Horsemen of Utah rides.

So I saddled up Frosty and headed toward the Little Grand Canyon Trail.

The goal was simple: a quiet ride through one of the most beautiful parts of the Swell.

My trainer had warned me that Frosty was still young and not fully desensitized to mountain bikes.

Naturally, I encountered at least ten of them.

To his credit, he handled them beautifully.

The canyon was stunning.

Red rock walls.

A winding river.

Open desert.

Exactly the type of riding that makes Utah special.

After about ten miles, I had already turned around and was heading back across open desert when I heard an engine.

I assumed it was an ATV.

Frosty thought otherwise.

Without being asked, he transitioned from a walk to a trot.

Then to a canter.

Then to a faster canter.

Then, suddenly, to a full gallop.

And finally, to bucking.

I managed to get him under control and turned him around just in time to see the culprit.

A helicopter.

Flying low.

Very low.

Apparently, Frosty's desensitization program had just entered the accelerated learning phase.

What We Learned

By the end of the weekend, we had:

• Lost 140 gallons of water.

• Had a horse collapse in the middle of a canyon.

• Nearly run out of water entirely.

• Tested our new communication system under real conditions.

• Met an incredible group of mule riders from Idaho.

• Added a helicopter to Frosty's training curriculum.

• Explored some of the most beautiful country in Utah.

Would we go back?

Absolutely.

Because that's what makes adventures in the American West so memorable.

Things rarely go exactly according to plan.

And sometimes that's where the best stories come from.