the visibly cracked old tires the Yamaha’s 4-speed gearbox
shifted reluctantly; the crank seals, generator and suspension
were not fully proven; the freebie replacement drive chain was
of unknown quality; and most of all, the engine bearings ground
and rattled with such intensity that I turned to earplugs simply
to gain some relief. On this day, my normal riding zeal was tem-
pered by knowing the ultimate victory would be getting to the
trail’s end and back, and not any heroics like wheelies, slides or
dust clouds.
In a testimony to the mettle of Yamaha’s original design,
remarkably, by midmorning the old YA6 reached the trailhead,
still quite clattery but seemingly no further degraded. After a
gearbox oil check, topping up the fuel tank with more 32:1 pre-
mix, lowering tire pressures to 20psi and clamping on a Sparky
spark arrestor, we then began the 30 miles out-and-back dirt
ridgetop route, with Masho riding ahead looking for good pho-
tography spots and Fosmire following on another dual-sport
bike with a backpack full of tools, spares, food and water — and
a tow rope.Seriously sketchy
Measuring 15 miles each way, the out-and-back ridgetop trail
is deceivingly complex, once likened to music that suddenly
morphs from easy listening to death metal. As hopefully the
accompanying photos show, the easy parts are pure bliss and
the hard parts pure hell. For instance, for a time we rode along
sweetly on relatively flat ground, with the ocean way below on
our right and forest sprawling endlessly to our left. And then
the trail changed, swinging right and presenting a chaotic little
uphill littered with sand, rocks and ruts, and then darting sud-
denly left and up to reveal a five-story high, steep wall of rock.
Heavy winter rains had badly eroded both edges of the climb
here, leaving the bumpy, crowned center section just passable
— and both sides cratered out like a leering Mt. Everest cre-
vasse. Fall here and you’ll remember it for a long while.Among the many challenges, this one defines Divide Peak
as the riding equivalent of a double black diamond ski run. As
remarkable as the climbs though, was that with its lowered
gearing, the Yamaha actually had the power necessary to get
up every one, although its small-diameter wheels, short-travel
suspension, down pipe and low ground clearance made the
bike as farcical as a dachshund running the steeplechase when
encountering technical sections. Herein, line choice became
extra important as every ravine, ledge and rock brought
renewed opportunity to high-center the bike or smash toes
between footpegs and unforgiving stone. Ask me how I know.
In all, there are about a half-dozen hard climbs and another
10 moderate ones along the trail. I began to think of each
climb as a round in the boxing ring. Lasting just a few minutes
each, they were both difficult and crucial, but not unending.
And after each hard section came the reward of a mile or so of
decent trail. Onward and upward we went, climb after climb,
and the little 53-year-old Yamaha kept at it, kept running, and
kept moving. Until finally, after lunging up a narrow chute that
tunneled through a dark thicket of scratchy manzanita, and
bouncing through one last rock-infested section, we were at
the summit, a simple turnaround flanked by towering, time-
worn boulders.
A nervous wind kicked up as we eyeballed the battered bike,
noting the beat-up footpegs and controls, wrapping zip ties
around the delaminating rear tire, and changing the spark plug
to combat a worrisome misfire. After sharing a celebratory
can of — appropriately for the terrain — Rockstar Punched,
we took in the inspiring 360-degree views of the blue Pacific
to the south, shimmering Lake Casitas to the southeast, and
the green scrubland to the north and west. And marveled that
somehow, this ridiculous $50 bet had actually paid off. Now
all we had to do was get home again. And quickly find me a
therapist. MC
Originally published at Hagerty.com.Don’t try this at home: The rear tire, held
together — just barely — with zip ties
(above). Stein at the top, feeling victorious.46 MOTORCYCLE CLASSICS September/October 2017