You’re driving north out of Moab, the desert heat shimmering off the asphalt, and suddenly the Arches National Park entrance is behind you. Most people just keep driving toward the hotels in town, but if you take a turn toward the red rocks of the Paradox Formation, you hit something different. It’s Under Canvas Moab. Honestly, calling it a "campsite" is a bit of a lie, but calling it a "hotel" feels wrong too. It’s this weird, beautiful middle ground where you’re sleeping under a canvas roof but also have a flushing toilet and a wood-burning stove.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the high desert. The thing about Moab is that it’s harsh. It’s beautiful, sure, but it’s dusty, windy, and the temperature swings 40 degrees in a single day. People come here for the "rugged" experience, yet they end up crammed into a generic motel room on Main Street with bad coffee and thin walls. That’s why the glamping trend exploded here. Under Canvas was one of the first to really stake a claim in this space, and they picked a spot that basically looks like a movie set for a Western.
If you're wondering if it's worth the premium price tag, the answer isn't a simple yes or no. It depends on whether you value a 500-thread count sheet more than a lobby with a breakfast buffet.
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The Reality of Sleeping Under Canvas Moab
Let’s get the "tent" part out of the way. These aren't the nylon things you struggle to put up in your backyard. They are heavy-duty, safari-inspired structures on permanent wooden platforms. When the wind picks up in the Moab Valley—and it will—the canvas flaps. It’s a rhythmic, thumping sound that either lulls you to sleep or drives you crazy.
Most guests opt for the Deluxe or Stargazer suites. The Stargazer is the one you see on Instagram. It has a viewing window directly over the king-size bed. Does it work? Yeah, mostly. On a clear night in Utah, the Milky Way is so bright it almost feels like a nightlight is on in the room. But remember: there’s no air conditioning. That’s the big sticking point for people visiting in July.
Under Canvas Moab uses a "low-flow" philosophy. They use pull-chain showers and low-flow toilets to conserve water in the desert. It's a conscious choice. You have to hold the chain to keep the water running. It’s a minor inconvenience that reminds you that you’re in a place where water is a literal lifeline.
What No One Tells You About the Temperature
Deserts are liars. You see photos of the red rocks and think "heat." But at Under Canvas Moab, the nights get cold. Even in June, the temperature can dip into the 50s. The staff will offer to help you light your in-tent wood stove. Take them up on it. There is something fundamentally grounding about waking up at 5:00 AM, seeing your breath in the air, and tossing a log into a stove while you wait for the "organic" coffee to be ready at the main lobby tent.
On the flip side, by 2:00 PM, that tent is a sauna. Most people are out hiking Delicate Arch or mountain biking the Whole Enchilada during the day, which is good, because you don’t want to be inside a canvas tent when the Utah sun is at its peak. The camp is designed as a "basecamp" mentality. Go out, get dirty, come back for the s'mores.
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Location: The Proximity Paradox
One of the biggest draws of Under Canvas Moab is where it sits. It’s located about 10 miles north of the town of Moab. This is a massive strategic advantage.
- You are right across the highway from the entrance to Arches National Park.
- Canyonlands (Island in the Sky district) and Dead Horse Point State Park are a short drive away.
- You avoid the "Moab Traffic Jam" that happens every evening when everyone tries to get dinner on Main Street.
However, being north of town means you aren't walking to any restaurants. You’re eating at the camp’s "Embers" restaurant or driving 15 minutes into town. The food at the camp is surprisingly decent—think bison burgers and ancient grain bowls—but it’s expensive. You’re paying for the logistics of getting fresh kale into the middle of a desert.
The Social Component
There’s a communal fire pit. Every night. They provide the marshmallows, the graham crackers, and the chocolate. It sounds cheesy until you’re sitting there with a beer, looking at the La Sal Mountains in the distance, talking to a couple from Germany or a family from New York.
There’s no Wi-Fi in the tents. None. There’s barely any cell service depending on your carrier. For some, this is a crisis. For others, it’s the whole point. You’ll see people huddled near the lobby tent where the signal is strongest, but mostly, people are actually looking at each other. It’s a rare thing in 2026.
Logistics and the "Hidden" Costs
Let's talk money because Under Canvas Moab isn't a budget stay. You’re looking at anywhere from $350 to $700 a night depending on the season and the tent type.
Is it a rip-off? Not necessarily. Think about what you're paying for. You aren't paying for square footage; you're paying for the view of the stars and the fact that you don't have to pack a tent, a sleeping bag, and a stove. The "value" is in the experience of being outdoors without the suffering of actual camping.
Things that might annoy you:
The paths between the tents are gravel and sand. If you bring a rolling suitcase, you’re going to be dragging it. Use a duffel bag.
The "shared" bathrooms for the basic tents are very clean, but they are still shared. If you’re a private person, just spring for the Deluxe tent with the ensuite bathroom. Your marriage will thank you.
Sustainability: Marketing or Meaningful?
Under Canvas prides itself on a "leave no trace" style of hospitality. The tents are semi-permanent. They could, theoretically, be packed up and the land would return to its natural state relatively quickly. They use solar power for much of the lighting and actively discourage single-use plastics.
In a town like Moab, which is currently struggling with "over-tourism," this matters. The local ecosystem is fragile. Biological soil crust—that black, bumpy dirt you see everywhere—takes decades to grow back if you step on it. Staying at a place that acknowledges its footprint is a step up from the massive concrete hotels popping up near the Colorado River.
Comparison: Under Canvas vs. The Field
Moab has seen a surge in luxury outdoor stays. You have ULUM Moab, which is Under Canvas's more expensive, "ultra-luxury" sister property located further south near Looking Glass Arch. There’s also Hoodoo Moab, which is a Hilton property in town.
If you want a pool and air conditioning, go to the Hoodoo.
If you want to feel like you’re on a high-end expedition, Under Canvas is the sweet spot.
If you want robes and rain showers, go to ULUM.
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Final Practical Advice for Your Stay
If you decide to book, do it early. Moab's peak seasons are spring (April/May) and fall (September/October). Summer is brutal, and winter is surprisingly cold, though Under Canvas usually operates on a seasonal calendar, closing during the deepest part of winter.
Pack these three things:
- A headlamp. The paths are lit, but the desert is dark.
- A portable power bank. There are USB ports in the tents (powered by battery packs), but they can be slow.
- Layers. Always layers.
The biggest mistake people make at Under Canvas Moab is treating it like a Marriott. Don't do that. It’s an experience. It’s about the sound of the wind, the smell of the juniper bushes, and the fact that you can see the Milky Way while lying in bed. It’s dusty. It’s a little bit wild. And that’s exactly why people keep coming back.
Your Moab Checklist
- Book Arches Entry Early: You still need a timed entry reservation for the National Park, even if you’re staying right next door.
- Water is King: Bring a reusable 32oz bottle. The camp has filtration stations. Use them constantly.
- Check the Wind: If the forecast calls for 30mph+ gusts, bring earplugs. The canvas will be loud.
- Arrival Timing: Try to arrive before sunset. Navigating the camp in total darkness for the first time is a recipe for a twisted ankle.
- The "West" Experience: Don't skip the morning yoga if they're offering it. Doing a downward dog while looking at the red rocks is a cliché for a reason—it actually feels pretty great.