Moab Rising
A Story of Friendship, Freedom, and Finding Yourself Off -Road
STORY | Karl Noakes
Photography | Brian Elich
There’s something about the red rock trails of Moab that strips you down to your essentials — your instincts, your grit, your tribe. For one group of friends, this wasn’t just another off-road trip. It was a proving ground, a pilgrimage, and a release. Across sunbaked switchbacks and sandstone ledges, they found more than traction — they saw each other. Through breakdowns, breakthroughs, and belly laughs under desert stars, what started as an adventure became something more profound: a journey of transformation, driven by trust, and fueled by freedom.
Car culture has brought this group of like-minded enthusiasts together, and they are the better for it. Nicholas Bergeron and Dan Putnam are likely known to Avants magazine readers as they host The Avants Podcast. Shanna Daugherty is Dan’s partner and Megan Zalud met the two via the podcast. Brian Elich is the sales manager at Puyallup Chevrolet but has long been a Bow Tie fan. Michael Smith found Moab in 2020 as a tribute to a friend lost too soon. He’d returned year after year, drawn by the mix of beauty, challenge, and healing the landscape offered. This year, his usual crew bailed, but when he heard Nic and Dan were going, he jumped at the chance.
I caught up with the group about a month after the dust from their adventure had settled. We found ourselves back at Saints & Scholars — the same cozy Irish bar where this audacious undertaking was first scribbled into motion. The same circular table for eight near the fireplace. Same back-of-napkin route sketches and overconfident guesses about tire pressure and trail ratings. Only now, there were no maps or weather apps — just empty pint glasses, bruises faded to yellow, and stories tumbling out between rounds of laughter.
I hadn’t gone with them. But I’d watched it all take shape — the gear prep, the last-minute Amazon orders, the way the group chat buzzed with trail choices and inside jokes. These were friends before they left, sure — a crew bonded by trucks, bikes, and shared sarcasm. But when they came back from Moab, something had shifted. They’d returned not just with red dirt in every crevice of their gear, but with the kind of closeness that only comes from going somewhere wild together — facing the unknown, getting a little scared, bleeding a little, and still showing up for one another the next day. Moab didn’t just challenge them. It changed them.
We spent hours that night — beers emptied, stories refilled — tracing the trip from spark to summit.
I asked them to walk me through it, moment by moment, trail by trail — not just to explain what happened, but how it felt. To get the conversation flowing I asked for just one word. For Brian, it was camaraderie — the deep, unshakable bond that forms in the dust. For Michael, it was adventure — the kind that resets your soul, not your calendar. For Nic, it was growth — the quiet confidence that comes from doing something hard and emerging stronger. And for Megan and Shanna, it was freedom — a raw, wide-open feeling that only comes when you trust the throttle and let go.
THE CALL TO ADVENTURE: THE SPARK
Moab means many things. To Brian and Nic, it was Mecca — the authentic test of any off-roader’s mettle. Can you really call yourself an off-roader without conquering Moab or the Rubicon Trail? “Moab is where things are tested and broken and made better,” said Brian. Nic echoed the sentiment. “It tests everything: your prep, your nerves, your gear.”
Brian set the pace. “Honestly? Curiosity. I’d heard the stories and seen the YouTube videos, but I needed to experience it for myself. I wanted to find out if I could handle it — not just the driving, but the mental aspect as well. So yeah, it was all about: fun, fear, freedom and growth.”
For Michael, it began under somber circumstances but this place has had a profound effect on him. “Moab is my Disneyland,” he said. “No other place combines that much terrain and access in such a small radius. Moab doesn’t care if you’re ready. But if you let it, it’ll shape you.”
For Megan, it wasn’t about proving anything. “It’s sacred ground and a proving ground. Sometimes both at once. Moab wasn’t a bucket list item. It was something I needed to experience with people who got it,” she said. A motorsport veteran, she viewed Moab as an experiential belt buckle to add to her growing list of adventures.
For Shanna, Moab wasn’t a question mark — it was a milestone. “Moab never shows you the same face twice. Dan and I have been going to Moab for five years now. But this time was different. I wasn’t just along for the ride — I was behind the wheel.”
Her white Bronco Raptor, OJ, was just six months into their relationship. Already armored with sliders, 37-inch tires, and lights bright enough to turn night into noon, the build was serious. And so was the preparation. “Moab is the Coliseum. You don’t just show up. You prepare. You mod.”
VIBING OUT AND GENERATING THAT GROUP DYNAMIC
Each member brought something different. Brian, the full-energy documentarian and hype man, always had a camera in hand or an idea for the next epic shot. Michael, affectionately dubbed “Safety Steve,” had the experience, gear, and calm under pressure that made him the group’s North Star. Nic was the quiet rock — dependable, funny, and always thinking three steps ahead.
And Megan? “I’m the stubborn one who has to learn the hard way,” she laughed. Equal parts comedic relief and adrenaline chaser, she called herself the chaotic younger sibling of the crew. But behind the antics was someone deeply in tune with the group’s emotional current.
What about the unspoken bond on the trail? It all comes down to one thing. Trust, in all its forms. Trust in judgment, in silence, in humor, and grit. “We know we have each other’s backs no matter what comes up,” said Megan. And the rest of the group would nod in agreement. These were people who looked out for each other at 2 a.m. on long hauls home and who could still crack jokes while pulling someone out of a ravine.
“Trust — and the knowledge that if something bad was to happen, we all have each other’s backs and will get out safe,” recalled Brian with satisfaction written across his face for all to see.
CROSSING THE THRESHOLD: REMEMBERING THE FIRST DAY IN MOAB
Brian recalled, “Dan, Shanna, and Nic were the first ones at the house. We decided to go do Fins and Things. This trail was a great “warmup.” It really had us working together quickly and helping each other through.”
Michael described the early trials as “banter-filled but focused,” with radios lighting up and the group falling into sync. Brian remembered the camaraderie kicking in on Fins and Things: “It made us work together fast.” The warm-up run on Fins and Things didn’t register as a trial by fire — more like a shakedown. But Baby Lion’s Back? That’s where it all clicked for Shanna, “that crazy-angled sandstone? That’s my jam.”
Coming from the PNW, where trails mean dirt and trees, Moab’s slickrock was a revelation: not just a physical challenge, but a mental one. “It demands problem-solving with tires and torque. Every line is a decision.” That realization didn’t just flip a switch — it rewired the whole board.
The realization moment when you recognize Moab isn’t going to be easy is out there for everybody. Moab doesn’t care about your plans. It tests everything: ego, preparation, suspension setups, and most of all, mindset. Everyone had one of those moments where a line, an incline, or a decision made them stop and question if they were ready for what came next.
TRIALS, TRIBULATIONS, AND REVELATIONS
Moab never stays easy for long. For Shanna, the test came on Hell’s Revenge — a steep, off-camber line spotted by Michael. The proper line hugged a tall rock wall; everyone else took it. Shanna didn’t.
“I aimed straight for the crown, expecting to drag belly. But OJ floated over it. No scrape. Nothing.” It wasn’t recklessness. It was a matter of trust in the rig, in the prep, and in herself. “Sometimes the ‘wrong’ line is the right one — if you’ve got the rig for it.” That line became a metaphor for the whole trip. She wasn’t trying to follow. She was figuring out her way.
Michael described a wheel lift at Hell’s Gate: “Three to four feet off the ground. But I stayed calm. Steady throttle.” Nic, quiet as ever, admitted the biggest challenge was internal. “Trusting myself. That I belonged here. That I was capable.”
The group agreed Moab is a teacher. It teaches you… that nature doesn’t care about your plans… that trust is more valuable than torque… that control is sometimes an illusion. “You prepare for the unexpected, solve the problem, and come out stronger,” said Megan.
THE GROUP STARTS TO CLICK ON THE TRAIL
Momentum has to start somewhere. For Nic, the win was Hell’s Gate. The sun had just begun to soften behind the red rock walls; the trail was quiet, except for the low rumble of tires crawling over the ledges. “I built the RR to conquer it,” he said. “And in that moment, everything I’d done to prepare — the time, the money, the mods — it all clicked. That was my summit.”
For Michael, joy was a constant presence. “The seatbelt clicked on at home, and I was in my happy place the whole time.” But he recalls a view from the top of a Slick Rock Dome, just after Poison Spider, where the group parked and looked out over the winding Colorado River. “No one spoke. That silence — that was it.”
Nic made it to the top of Poison Spider and realized he hadn’t turned around. “Had we started here, I wouldn’t have made it past the first ledge. However, because we had built up to it, I trusted the rig and the group. When we arrived, that’s when I realized how far I’d come.”
For Megan, it was cresting into Colorado on her GSX-R. “No one around. Just me and the bike, returning to a state I hadn’t lived in for 20 years. That was the high.” She remembers the dry air turning crisp.
On White Rim, Baja mode engaged, windows down, music up, the trail unfolding like a red ribbon in front of Shanna. “It wasn’t about conquering anything — it was about that feeling of total freedom. The trail and the truck were speaking the same language — and I just got to enjoy the ride.”
Later, on Hell’s Revenge, it was 34-degree inclines and laughter as she checked the inclinometer mid-climb:“ In a rig this big, with a lift, it felt like walking up a wall. And I couldn’t stop smiling.”
BECOMING A BIGGER BETTER VERSION OF YOURSELF
Shanna didn’t come back changed, not exactly. Moab, she insists, isn’t the only place that can offer that kind of clarity. “You can find adventure anywhere. Sometimes all it takes is trying something new, going somewhere unfamiliar, or saying yes to the unexpected. That’s where the joy lives.”
Brian felt more confident — not just in his rig, but in how he handled unknowns. He admitted that back home, things like scheduling or logistics used to overwhelm him. Now, he found himself saying, “If I handled Poison Spider, I can handle this.”
Michael said his soul was recharged. He’d fallen into routines at home — efficient but unfulfilling. Moab gave him time to pause and appreciate that capability is nothing without presence. “I left the weight of obligation out in the desert,” he said.
Nic discovered a new level of trust in himself. Back home, he realized how often he second-guessed his choices. After Moab, he found himself moving with more intention — at work, in relationships, even in traffic.
“I came home with a better understanding of what lights me up,” said Megan. “And that I don’t need permission to chase it.” She discussed how she began waking up earlier, riding more frequently, and making time for herself unapologetically. “It made me selfish in the best way possible.”
Epilogue
Moab tested more than machines — it revealed character, deepened friendships, and inspired new goals. Whether it was Brian envisioning future trips with his son, Michael eyeing a Bronco Raptor and mentoring newcomers, or Shanna sharing wisdom for first-timers, everyone walked away with something lasting.
And the journey isn’t over. Nic’s already mapping out tougher trails, Megan’s dreaming beyond Moab with a cross-country ride, and the group is eager for new terrain, bigger challenges, and longer stories. OJ’s ready. So is Shanna. The torch is being passed, the list of trails is growing, and the spirit of adventure is only getting stronger.
