We finally tried dispersed camping for the first time...and completely failed

After doubling our stay duration at Las Vegas Bay Campground to tackle an entire list of unforeseen repairs, we were finally ready to head north. The goal was to reach Montana by mid-May, which gave us almost 3 weeks to enjoy Utah and Idaho on the way up. Bono was playing in our minds as we hit the road on a beautiful, sunny day with no destination. We had had our new solar setup for almost 2 months now, and after our recent repairs, everything was working great again. Although we had become very comfortable with boondocking, we still had yet to try real dispersed camping.

A quick run-down of the definitions, as these terms have their own meanings but often get used differently by different RVers:

Dry camping - camping without electric, water, or sewer, usually at a developed campground

Boondocking - camping without electric, water, or sewer, usually not at a developed campground

Dispersed camping - boondocking on public land, usually owned by federal agencies

Many RVers, including us, use "dry camping" and "boondocking" interchangeably. So you'll usually hear us say "boondocking" when we don't have hookups. The only times we say "dry camping" are usually when we're in very developed campgrounds with no hookups. More natural, primitive campgrounds like Las Vegas Bay are surrounded by enough nature that we feel boondocking is an appropriate term. But that's just us. With dispersed camping, we tend to follow the most common definition above. There are designated lands where people can pull off the road and camp, usually for free. Sometimes the lands have "sites" in that they have little fire rings or rocks dotting the boundaries where vehicles can park. Other times it's just sprawling land and you park where you can. In some places you need to register, and in others you just pull right in. Typically these dispersed camping lands have limits on how long you can stay, plus other rules for keeping the lands clean and enjoyable for campers.

So when we say we've never dispersed camped, we mean we've never pulled off the side of the road, into designated land, found a spot, and let our RV provide us the resources we need. It's not that we haven't wanted to try it. We even scouted out spots in Quartzite, AZ to get a feel for the dispersed camping culture. Also, many of the lands are in beautiful, scenic areas, which is definitely up our alley. We typically just plan our travels a little further in advance than dispersed camping allows. Also, because we stayed east last year, we didn't have the same opportunities for dispersed camping that we get out west. Plus we didn't have our solar yet, and even though this wouldn't deter us, solar has been a total gamechanger for the way we travel.

As Northeasterners, we admit we were total noobs when it comes to dispersed camping. So I read lots of books and articles on the subject, scouted YouTube for videos on camping recommendations, and talked with my friend Jessica who got her dispersed camping legs way before we did. Over time, we learned the abilities of our trailer: Where we could fit and maneuver, how much clearance we had for rough roads, and where we're comfortable towing. Over all, we felt prepared. It was just a matter of finding dispersed camping options, scouting them out, and finding an open spot that would fit our rig. Utah seemed to be a great place to get our training wheels.

We traveled into Utah on a Thursday, which isn't always an easy day to find open free camping. Lots of campers will take a long weekend, so towards the end of the week, spots fill up. Even in regular campgrounds, we've noticed a trend of Sundays and Mondays being by far the quietest days, with Tuesdays not far behind. Still, southern Utah was forecasting some hot hot heat, not much cooler than the Nevada temperatures we'd just left behind. Our hefty solar inverter allows us to run air conditioning, so we thought maybe we'd have a leg up on the other campers who didn't want to be sweating all weekend.

We ventured over to Hurricane Cliffs, a beautiful BLM area with views of red rocks that have eroded to form the cliffs. The Bureau of Land Management set up designated sites in this area, marked by little fire rings. There are a lot of campsites, some larger and easier to get into than others, but the general set-up was that, down a maintained road, there were sporadic pull-offs, and within those pull-offs were the sites. The groups of sites were marked by signs, and although not maintained, the roads leading in are typically not too bad, unless a recent rain has washed them out. We felt like this land was very doable for us. Plus, we were right outside the town of Virgin, Utah, and we were in fact dispersed camping virgins! Very apropos.

We turned down the maintained road and stopped to read the "camper information" sign. Nothing we didn't already know. There were some rules about leaving no trace and not being too loud, along with the 14-day stay limit and warnings that the side roads are unmaintained dirt. Off we went to see what we could find.

The first group of sites was visible from the road, and we could count the number of vehicles we saw. No vacancy. Onto the next group we went. These sites were a little further from the road, and so we decided to turn down the unmaintained road, trailer still in tow. We looked to see which path in was the least rutted, as there were a few to choose from, and despite a few divots, the road was easily traversable. We have a fairly high clearance trailer, and so we had inches to spare before even coming close to bottoming out.

We went slow and eventually stopped at a point where the first sites were popping up. A pickup truck had gone ahead of us and we weren't sure at first if he was scouting, or if he was returning to one of the campsites. Turns out he was scouting, and so we waited and watched as he slowly made his way through the sites, turned around, and came back down. With a quick shake of his head, we knew all spots were full, and so we turned around right where we were, where there was enough room.

We skipped the third group of sites because, with the pickup truck in front of us, he'd get the first available spot. We continued on so we could get ahead of him. Suddenly, we passed a sign stating that we had left public land. There were supposed to be more sites. Where were they? We kept towing down the maintained road because we knew eventually we'd hit a main route on the other end. As we made our way through, we continued passing several RVs set up on the side of the road. A few reviews of this area said that people ignore the signs all the time, and we guess it's true. But we weren't about to risk it. We kept going and eventually came to a sign that said "Entering public land." Fascinating. No wonder why people ignore the signs all the time. The BLM land apparently sandwiches non-BLM land. We started looking for sites again. At the fourth group, the road was narrower. If any spots were open, we'd likely still be able to get our trailer down there, but we didn't know if there would be a place to turn around. We knew it would be best to scout without the trailer.

From what we've learned from fellow RVers, there are a few ways to scout dispersed camping spots. You can walk, you can bike, or you can unhitch your trailer and use the truck. The third option works best if you're already at a campsite and unhitched, so you can quickly go find available spots, then go back, hitch up, and try to get there before someone else grabs it. Do people try to "hold" the spots with camping chairs or other equipment? No one has said outright that they do this, but I'm guessing people do it all the time. It's probably frowned upon, which is why no one says outright that they do it.

Scouting on foot is convenient but can require a lot of time and energy. If we had wanted to scout these campsites on foot, it would have taken us at least a good 30 minutes. And we wondered, what do we do with the rig during this time? Half the campsite roads barely had entrances wide enough for one vehicle to get through, so it's not like we could pull over. Plus we have the animals, so we wouldn't want to just leave them in the truck for that long. We could put them in the trailer, but we're not comfortable leaving them in the trailer on the side of the road, where we're not supposed to be parked.

Fortunately, there was a place to pull over not too far from the fourth group of campsites. We decided it made the most sense to divide and conquer. Anthony stayed back with the animals while I took the ebike and went scouting. Biking the unmaintained road was actually really fun. I got to ride over lots of bumps, hills, divots, and even a small stream from run-off. I spotted a couple of sites that looked empty at first glance, but upon closer look, they all had camping gear. One person held their spot with cornhole - that's it. I assumed that these people had vans or small rigs and went exploring for the day, so to show that the campsite was taken, they needed to leave something behind. Do they ever get worried that incoming campers will just ignore the cornhole and set up camp anyway? Do dispersed camping brawls ever break out as a result?

I returned back to the rig with the expected news: all sites were occupied. Fun as it was to get a short bike ride in, getting the ebike out of the truck, putting its battery in and setting it up was kind of a pain. We weren't sure if I'd need it again, so instead of packing it back into the truck, we just brought it into the trailer and laid it on its side. We decided it would be safe if we were only going up the road.

Onto the next group of sites we went. The two remaining groups were actually on a different road, so we had to exit our current road and drive a short distance on the main route, which we had now reached after traveling the whole span of the BLM land. Already feeling disheartened and tired, we struggled to find where to turn to look for the remaining campsites and ended up missing it. I had Google Street Viewed the area and remembered seeing a pull-off close to where the turn would be, and so we started looking for that instead, thinking we could pull over there and I could take the ebike again. But we never found the pull-off. Maybe we missed that too, or maybe the Street View was old. Frustrated and starting to argue about whether or not to turn around, we called it quits. The later it got, the less of a chance we'd find a site, if there were any available to begin with, which in all likelihood there wasn't. Soon the sun would be setting, and we certainly didn't want to be on an unmaintained, dark road when that happened. So we pulled into a gas station to figure out our next move. If you know us, you know we tend to turn to KOA to save us. We called the nearby KOA Journey and they gave us a last-minute spot. It was certainly not the primitive nature experience we were hoping for, but it was a place to hang our hats. After all the stress of Las Vegas Bay, we didn't want to pile even more on. We just needed a couple of days to regroup and figure out our plan. We could always try dispersed camping some other time, perhaps on a less busy day, in a less coveted area.

We wondered what we could have done differently, or if it really was just a busy camping location. We later remembered that it was the end of National Parks Week, and we weren't too far from Zion, so maybe that had something to do with it. Bad timing. We also questioned our ability to balance the intrepid with the cautious. We want to tow down the rugged roads because we know the rig can handle it, but we also want to scout out areas we're not used to. And we really don't want to get stuck in a difficult place to turn around because we made hasty or stupid choices out of excitement. We want to scout the best, most beautiful spaces where we can put our RV, but we also worry about leaving our rig and pets on the side of the road while we go do that.

If you frequently dispersed camp and have any tips, please let us know in the comments! Did we make the best scouting choice by splitting up and taking the ebike? Did we wimp out too soon? Should we have towed down the unmaintained roads at all before scouting them first? Should we have tried on a different day, or earlier in the day? We assume lots of this depends on the specific location, and so we'll try again when we feel there's more space and less pressure. Until then, we'd seek out more boondocking spots in nature that are reservable, where we know exactly where we're going and when.

Only, as we soon discovered...those can oftentimes be even worse.