I’ve just finished watching the third season of Sullivan’s Crossing, and having already binged all six seasons of Virgin River, I couldn’t help but compare the two. My first impression, only a few episodes into Sullivan’s Crossing, was that it feels like a poor man’s version of Virgin River. The similarities are almost comical, and the fact that both shows are adapted from books by the same author somehow makes it even stranger. It’s as if one of the books was thrown into ChatGPT and prompted to “Change the names, tweak a few backstories, and hope no one notices.”

While there are no actual links between the shows, they both follow the same basic recipe: a red‑haired female lead (a medical professional, naturally) flees a troubled past and escapes to a remote, picturesque location. Her medical expertise becomes central to the plot as she inevitably saves the lives of various locals. She’s guided by a handful of older, wiser townsfolk while navigating a strained relationship with her father. Along the way, we get alcoholism, pregnancy trauma, multiple medical emergencies, and, of course, a rugged small‑town love interest she’s destined to eventually fall for.

I was genuinely excited to start Sullivan’s Crossing, mostly because of the cast. Scott Patterson (forever Luke from Gilmore Girls in my eyes) and Chad Michael Murray (hello, teenage One Tree Hill crush) were big draws for me. But despite the promising lineup, I found myself a bit underwhelmed by the characters and storylines. The acting veers into Hallmark‑movie territory more often than I’d like, the kind where you find yourself cringing at the deadpan delivery and wondering if the chemistry was left behind in a deleted scene.

Virgin River, for all its flaws, at least gives its characters a bit more depth. Sullivan’s Crossing, on the other hand, feels like it’s working with a half‑charged battery. The chemistry between Maggie and Cal is mediocre. There’s not really anything resembling a spark between them. The same goes for Sydney and Rafe, who radiate the energy of two people who met in the carpark five minutes before filming.

And then there’s Cal’s hair. Across three seasons, it evolves more dramatically than some of the actual plotlines. I know there are fans of the longer locks, but by season three I was practically begging someone to take a pair of secateurs to it. Don’t get me wrong, Cal is still a slightly better‑looking male lead than Jack in Virgin River (in my opinion), but the man has more potential. Let him live up to it.

I’m not saying that Virgin River is without it’s testing characters. Hope becomes more annoying as the seasons go on, and a few other characters (Connie, Lizzie, Charmaine to name a few) tested my patience more than once. But despite that, I still found myself hooked after a couple of episodes. Sullivan’s Crossing never quite managed that. It became more of a show I put on in the background whilst doing housework — pleasant enough, but not something that demanded my full attention.

Both series have been renewed for another season, and I’ll keep watching both. Partly out of loyalty, and partly because I’ve already invested too many hours to quit now. But if I’m being honest, the cliff‑hanger at the end of Sullivan’s Crossing season three might be the only thing dragging me back for season four.

Your Camo Wife