Hurricane, Utah, is the sticks. Not the deep sticks, like Virgin, a few miles up the mesa—and believe me, we take it personally if you can’t tell the difference—but it’s still the sticks. Hurricane will never be like Park City or other small towns movie stars put on the map.
The good thing about Hurricane is it’s on the road to somewhere. One of the seven natural wonders of the world, in fact. If you’re visiting the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, at some point you have to find yourself in Hurricane—not because it’s your destination, but because your path lies through it.
For me, Hurricane is a starting point, not a destination . . . hopefully. But for Robbie Stubbs, Hurricane’s a mere pit stop. He is meant for the sticks even less than I am. He is going somewhere, and I’m not talking about the Grand Canyon. By the time I met him, he was already in trouble. But the road between the sticks and somewhere is never easy-going.