There’s something about fall in the Upper Peninsula that makes you feel like you’ve wandered into a Bob Ross painting — if Bob had a fondness for mud, exhaust, and inside jokes that shouldn’t be repeated in polite company.
Our UTV crew rolled into Watersmeet, Michigan, trailers rattling, coffee in hand, ready for a weekend of riding, eating, bad decisions and allegedly luxury lodging. Home base? The Northern Waters Casino Resort — which one of our friends (wrongly) declared was better than a JW Marriott. Sure, there were no valet bellmen or champagne welcome drinks, but they did have free coffee, a room with a view of the parking lot, and a casino that smelled faintly of victory with the charming ding of penny slots. Close enough.

Saturday greeted us with a blaze of red and gold leaves and a chill that woke us up faster than caffeine. We fired up the UTVs, the engines coughing to life like coffee addicts before their first cup, and rolled into a blur of reds, oranges, and yellows.
Soon we were carving our way through the Ottawa National Forest and Sylvania Wilderness — a playground of rocky climbs, muddy splashes, and the occasional smooth blacktop stretch that let us breathe before the next chaos patch.
We cruised by Lake Gogebic and Bond Falls, where the air smelled like pine and the trail dust mixed perfectly with laughter.
The trails were everything fall riding should be: a bit of rocky punishment, a lot of muddy mischief, and those stretches of blacktop winding through mountain valleys that make you briefly forget you’re coated in dirt.
Out first weekend catchphrase started at lunch on Saturday. “Katzu, MI — was the weiner worth it?” became our unofficial anthem (don’t ask, it’s funnier if you were there). On Sunday, when one of the women couldn't open the bathroom door, Bob yelled, “No, give it a good tug!” which, as it turns out, works equally well as off-road advice and questionable relationship guidance.

The moment of the weekend, though, came when Wendy decided to test the limits of gravity and tire traction. She went off-trail, sliding through the mud and heading for the trees.For a moment, we all froze — visions of tow straps, winches, and rescue missions flashing before our eyes. But in a cinematic turn worthy of slow-motion playback, she somehow "saved it"—spinning back onto the trail like a hero in a John Wick movie, minus the soundtrack and dignity. We cheered. We filmed. We debated posting it on social media with the caption Brilliant Save or Dumb Luck?

Every great trail story needs good fuel stops.  Upchucks, where the pizza was dangerously good—though the name made us hesitate for a solid minute before ordering. Henry's with a crusty, curmudgeon bartender was the birth of 2 of our catchphrases "No, give it a good tug!" and "Put all packages in the backdoor". Rogers Bar, a Green Bay Packers shrine in the woods, gave us cold drinks, loud laughter, and enough green and gold to make even the trees jealous.Then came Alice’s in Iron River, a cozy little spot that served homemade pasta so good we briefly stopped making jokes. (Don’t worry, the silence didn’t last.)

Evenings were spent recounting the day’s adventures back at the casino—over drinks, laughter, and a few ill-advised slot machine attempts. Someone won a hundred dollars and declared it a strategic investment win. Another swore the odd party crasher was definitely flirting. She was definitely not. It was that kind of weekend.
By Monday morning, our UTVs wore the evidence of every splash, bump, and heroic maneuver. We loaded them up reluctantly, already planning next year’s ride.

It was a brilliant fall weekend—muddy trails, inside jokes, gorgeous scenery, and that unbeatable feeling of being somewhere wild and free with friends who get it. The UTVs looked gloriously filthy — badges of honor from two days of adventure.
The air was crisp, the leaves still glowing, and the laughter hadn’t stopped since Friday.As we rolled out of town, we passed a sign that said “Come Back Soon!
”Someone shouted from the lead: “Sure! Just put all packages in the backdoor!”And just like that, another legendary UTV weekend was in the books.

There’s something about fall in the Upper Peninsula that makes you feel like you’ve stumbled into a postcard—if that postcard also came with mud splatters, questionable decisions, and a lot of laughter echoing through the trees.