A Quick Exploration By ATV: Part 3

Like I said, navigation was a puzzle. I found a sign that said there was gas and food 12 miles to the south. Good to know. I suspected that was roughly where I’d left my truck. I continued heading north.

Soon I found a sign telling me there was gas and food 12 miles to the north. Interesting. It tripped my mathematical spidey-sense. Why 12 miles both way?

I wanted nothing to do with people (which is how I interpreted food and fuel) so I started taking random turns. Later on, I found one saying I’d find gas and food 12 miles to the west.

This just felt weird. Either I was in the exact geographic center of a 12-mile circle of nothing, ringed by civilization in all directions, or someone had a bunch of pre-painted signs that said 12 miles and was just positioning them as necessary.

Eager to avoid what felt like a ring of civilization at a 12 mile horizon, I turned toward the last cardinal direction; east. Then I jumped on and off a half dozen differently named trails marked for different uses; ATV & Horses, UTV (which includes ATV) & OHV (jeep like things), ATV & Horse but only snowmobiles after such and such date, etc… it’s a damn ecosystem of rules. Feel free to ignore the next paragraph:

*In case you’re wondering: an off highway vehicle (OHV) is nothing like an off highway motorcycle (OHM) though both can be street legal. A Rokon motorcycle (only some of which can be street legal) will go anywhere but the rules inexplicably ban motorcycles from some trails so lame a Geo Metro could manage it. Meanwhile, an all terrain vehicle (ATV) which you straddle like a motorcycle is usually narrower than some arbitrary limit (48″?). This means it’s an ATV1. An ATV is different from what everyone calls a side by side because they seat two abreast. These are called a UTV and classified as an ATV2 based on width. If it’s got a track it’s a snowmobile and can go on snowmobile trails but (maybe?) not ATV trails. If you put tracks on an ATV or UTV (which is common) they’re not snowmobiles because steering is not allowed with articulated front track sets(!).  Argos are amphibious. If it’s wet it’s a boat. If it’s muddy it’s an ATV1 (for a 6×6). If it’s an 8×8 and they don’t exist. If you put tracks on an 8×8 amphibious Argo it steers without articulated front tracks but it’s not a snowmobile because stop asking these damn questions. If you float an Argo in a lake adjacent to but not surrounded by Forest Service while it has tracks on, the regulations begin to glow. If you do this while duck hunting the regulations explode. See? It’s easy to understand the rules.

Toward the end of the day, I found a cool looking trail that I was dying to try but it was heading further away from the truck and the afternoon was waning. Uncharacteristically, I turned towards the truck with plenty of time left. No point in pressing my luck.

Oddly, this is not far from where I found wheelchair accessible fly fishing platforms. How cool is that? The road leading in was dirt, but the “trailhead” was paved and the path to the platforms was a boardwalk. We truly live in a fortunate time.

Wheelchair accessible fishing spot.

Halfway home I found an alternate trail going basically the same direction I expected to lead me to the truck. I’d been cautious once already and that pretty much consumed my daily allotment of being rational.  I swooped onto the side trail and zoomed away.

This route was way fun! Much more aggressive. Even so, my little ATV was easily up for it. (The operator gets some credit too. I know how to squeeze the most out of a machine’s abilities without flogging the machine!) It was great fun and soon I was climbing a ridge that looked far more remote than the rest.

I loved it! It felt dank and mysterious. If there was going to be a horror movie, this is where it would go down. Meanwhile it was getting late. The ATV has lights but they’re not great. (I had flashlights too but that’s not as good as actual sunlight.)

Also, it was cold and when the sun went down it would be below freezing for sure. I didn’t want to freeze on what was meant to be a lightweight happy tour. I started humming the Gilligan’s Island theme.

Sing with me ya’ll. “A three hour tour… a three hour tour.”

At the top of a ridge I was blocked by a tree. Damn! I explored ahead on foot. Another tree in 50 feet. Then another tree at a quarter mile. Then a jackstraw mess after that. It looked recent.

I had enough food to feed an army, a warm jacket, firestarting stuff, flashlights, navigational everything… but I’d left behind both my bowsaw and my chainsaw. I think maybe a chainsaw rack is a new thing I need! Now it was getting close to dark.

Before y’all start complaining that I’m a wimp and a teeny weeny tree like that wouldn’t stop you, these are two of what looked like several dozen trees. And I was out to relax… not go logging with a Swiss army knife (which is the largest blade I was carrying). I could have MacGuivered my way down the trail, building bridges, hacking and slashing my way across the forest but it would be dumb. Without a chainsaw it would take forever.

The wise thing to do would be to backtrack to the larger safer trail. So of course, I put it in 4×4 Low and tried to overland around it. Half a mile later I was deep in a patch of freshly fallen trees from last week’s windstorm. Bigfoot couldn’t get through that mess. I sure as hell wasn’t going to weave an ATV through it. Damn!

The way back wasn’t overly obvious (I’d gone off trail big time by then) but I carefully picked my way back to the blockage and admitted my folly. If there was going to be a horror movie, I’d probably driven right to the center of it.

Reluctantly, I headed back. I hate backtracking. (On foot I can clamber over a lot more than an ATV can handle!)

By then the temperature had dropped 10 degrees. I stopped and swapped to warmer gloves and put another coat over my coat and thanked myself for having the basic common-sense paranoia to carry “too much” stuff. Aside from my eyes, which burned in the cold bitter wind, I was OK. (Maybe I need to buy goggles… or a real ATV helmet.)

The last vestiges of daylight were accompanied by a sign that told me I was 19 miles out… probably. At least the name seemed familiar and the numbers were clicking down instead of up. I knew I was heading in the correct compass bearing and that was a good sign. Twenty miles isn’t so bad on an ATV but after a lifetime of hiking it seems a lot. Twenty miles is half a night’s walking on foot. Such a difference!

It was nothing to worry about though. Soon I was buying gas near the trailhead where I’d left my truck. It amused me to pump gas straight to the ATV rather than lugging a gas can home.

It wasn’t too adventurous but not too boring either. Perfect really. Just the right amount of fun and no more. Soon I was back at the truck, cranking the heat, and realizing I was seriously windburned. Who cares? I’d done the right thing with my limited time in the sun. What could be better?

A.C.

P.S. I still want an Argo… the mind is never truly rational.