UTVs are a versatile hobby for outdoorsmen and women of all ages and skill levels.
able to ride with him in his two-per- son UTV for a bit. Steve used to ride motorcycles and loved the thrill of the speed, but references some ad- age along the lines of “with age, get a cage.” He made the switch to UTVs about nine years ago and has now been with the Club for five years. His UTV has a split windshield instead of a full one like the Heintz’s, which means a bit of a dirtier ride that bal- ances out with the increased airflow. Steve’s been able to put a lot of time and money into decking out his ma- chine, and the evidence is felt in how smoothly it handles over rough por- tions of the road. I trade out my sunglasses for gog- gles, and find that the rumble of the UTV motor has faded into the back- ground of my awareness, becom- ing just another beat to the wild soundtrack of wind, nature and free- dom. The trail starts to cut back and
getting separated on the trails is have the leading UTV drop cones at each intersection that are then picked up by the final driver. There are also a handful of machines — Jeff and Mar- jorie’s being one of them — outfitted with radios in case something needs to be communicated quickly through- out the group. Although quite dusty at times, there are many stretches where the air is mostly clear and I’m in awe of the breathtaking landscape we’re passing through. Sometimes my gaze is caught by how the dust clouds set- tle and swell in mesmerizing dances; other times, by how the white heads of flowering beargrass contrast stark - ly against swaths of green grasses. By far the most captivating scene is how the mountains roll out in ridge upon ridge into the distance. At one stop, Nancy introduces me to a member named Steve, and I’m
forth as we descend the mountains surrounding Clark Fork. Glimpses between trees reveal scattered build- ings in a stunningly picturesque val- ley streaked with the reaching fingers of tranquil ponds. The trail brings us down right alongside the Clark Fork River, so full of winter runoff it seems ready to claim the road as part of its watery domain. We cross the river at a bridge that parallels some train tracks and ar- rive in Clark Fork. A few members of the group head to the gas pumps to top off their tanks while the rest park and decide on sandwiches or burgers for lunch. Steve will be visiting with a friend nearby instead of heading back with us, so I thank him for the lift before going in search of a sand- wich. There’s a bit of time left after I eat, so I wander down the main street to Scotchman’s Coffee, named after Scotchman’s Peak which is accessible
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