Torture Test: Riding the tough trails of Batangas on a Yamaha XT 225

As a nation, we sometimes have this tendency to stereotype the people of our provinces. We tend to generalize their traits and as such, we brand and divide our countrymen according to these perceptions. We think of the Kapampangan as a great cook and a big brag, the Ilocano as an industrious spend-thrift, the Ilonggo as slow and malambing, the Muslims of Mindanao either as war-mongrels or scrupulous traders, the Bisaya as provincial folk, etc. Batangeños, in particular, are perceived as tough and temperamental people, and that they always carry a balisong, their native 29-inch fan knife. Their strong intonation and the natural loud volume of their speaking voices don’t help dispel this perception, either. Typecast television and movie characters further enforce this notion.

This thought occurred to me when I joined the Batangas leg of the Norkis-Yamaha "Pilipinas Muna" Ride 2003 dirt/off-road/trail adventure. It started at the YRS Motorcycle Modification shop in Mandaluyong one early Saturday morning. Norkis’ Jun Alfonso was incessantly sending me a text message since 4:00 am to tell me that everybody was there and that the van was going to leave without me. We left YRS by 4:30, arrived in San Juan, Batangas before 8:00 and went to the rice mill owned by the family of Ramon "Butchoy" Castillo for some local brewed coffee (kapeng barako). Butchoy struck me as a tall and genteel man, accommodating and very hospitable. He immediately dispelled my notion about the typical Batangeño, in spite of the trademark intonation and loud vocal volume.

After we had our fill of the strong brew, we geared up for the ride by putting on our bike shorts, knee-high socks, knee and shin protectors, lightweight riding pants, boots, elbow pads, jersey, gloves, MX helmet and goggles since Norkis-Yamaha wanted to emphasize the importance of riding protected. Yoyong Buncio, YRS big boss, presided over a rider’s briefing after they coaxed me into leading a short prayer while Norkis mechanics went over our bikes for a final inspection. At a few minutes before 10 am, we saddled our bikes and hit the road.

The Easy Part

Butchoy and Yoyong led the group on board their new Yamaha WR450F enduro bikes. These off-road bikes boast of having a liquid-cooled 4-stroke 450cc motor, light weight (261 lbs.), high ground clearance (13.8 inches), electric starter, front and rear disc brakes and a suspension built for an enduro. Its high seat height of 38 inches isn’t for every one, except maybe for tall and lanky guys like Roscoe Odullo, but his equally tall YZ426 motocross racer isn’t for every one either.

Norkis SVP for marketing Manuel Gaspar "Boy" Albos, Jr. graciously supplied me with my ride, a Yamaha XT 225, which is a dual purpose (street/off-road) bike with a 4-stroke air-cooled motor, front disc and rear drum brake system, kick-start and knobby tires while he rode on his Yamaha Serow 225, an electric start-equipped woods/trail bike that was based on the XT. Nonoy Cabrera, the president of the Luzon Motorcyclist Federation (LMFI), Jun Perez and Rudy Nadela were mounted on Yamaha Lanza 230cc 2-stroke dual-purpose bikes, while Gerry Reyes and Atty. Butch Ortega were riding on their YZ125 and YZ250 production bikes, respectively.

We ran on the highway for a brief spell and then went into the unpaved back roads behind the Batangas Racing Circuit. The dust generated by the bikes on the trail made it almost impossible to see the path ahead, and some of us nearly stumbled on tree trunks, small boulders and large rocks that littered the trail. After eating dust for what seemed like an hour, we hit the highway once more and ended up in Batangas City. Even though it was too early for lunch and too late for breakfast, we had a heavy meal (brunch?) at a local eatery, where we also hooked up with the Batangas-based Mahinhin Dirt Bike Riders. The group’s name intrigued me since a mahinhin (shy) Batangeño is a disparity that defies convention, yet they were nice people and hard-core riders.

Rock and Roll

We left Batangas City a bigger group of 41 riders and proceeded to the more challenging portion of our ride. We rode on alternate patches of dirt trails and newly-built concrete roads until we went up a treacherous mountain trail that was paved with loose gravel, soft soil and peppered with rocks the size of Mike Tyson’s fists. Our bikes were really wound up and were scratching for available traction but the very steep incline wasn’t forgiving. A lot of the riders fell from their bikes, including yours truly, who high-sided the XT. I wasn’t hurt from my fall, but Boy Albos suffered a bruise on the inner side of his knee when he fell after managing to reach more than half way up the incline.

Some riders like Yoyong, Roscoe, Gerry, Devor Andres, Snooky Cruz on his YZ400 and a member of the "Purbis" (puro bisaya) Norkis riders club were able to conquer the incline and were rewarded with a spectacular view of Batangas City and the surrounding seaside when they reached the peak of the mountain. Unfortunately, some of us could only listen to their stories, as we nursed our wounded pride and tried to regain our confidence when we regrouped in a lowland sari-sari store.

We rode on to our next destination, with the road becoming more treacherous and the landscape becoming more confusing. We attacked roads covered in thick dust and went up trails that resembled foot paths as the weather changed from hot and humid to hazy and humid. In our mad scramble to reach our designated mountain lunch site before rainfall, we increased our pace and sped through small towns and barangays while the locals cheered us on as we passed. Strong monsoon rains fell by 2 pm as we reached Lubo, where we had a cardiac arrest-inducing heavy lunch under a long nipa shed.

The Lost Boys

After our late lunch, things got a bit hazy. First, some riders, including Nonoy Cabrera, Jun Alfonzo and three Mahinhin riders failed to catch up with our group or show up for lunch. Fearing that they were lost, stranded, or worse, incapacitated by a bad fall, Butchoy and Yoyong volunteered to search for them since they were the more capable ones in our group with their experienced riding abilities and their superior bikes.

Second, the trail has gone from bad to worse. The rains converted the thick dust on the road into gooey mud, and since we were near the peak of the mountain, we were headed downhill the rest of the way. About an hour’s ride from our lunch stop, we encountered several terrain drops that required lugging the motor in first gear (for engine braking), squeezing the rear brakes lightly (to prevent engine stalling) and praying hard that you don’t skid and roll down the hill. When I rode ahead of the group of Boy Albos, Lory Duran, Edwin Fegarido, Allan Ayuson, Brix Manalo and Jet-Jet Reboldila, I came across what seemed like a steep 40-foot drop that had my bike sliding downhill even as I locked the front and rear brakes. As I reached the bottom, I looked up to see that the terrain looked more like a ravine than a road. The locals must have thought of us as crazy for riding on trails that even horses can’t and won’t pass. On second thought, these mountains must have helped make the Batangeños as tough as they’re perceived to be.

At about 5pm, the trail became much easier as we approached Laiya. On the downhill trail before the town proper, I met up with Mandy Queliza on his DT 125, who doubled back to get additional camera footage of the riders as they descended from the mountain. We regrouped at a wide, unpaved and dusty highway along the coast and while waiting for other riders, bled some gas from thrifty bikes like my XT to fuel up the thirsty YZs. Like lost boys, we were also clueless on where we were going so it took a long while before we got our headings straight.

Animals in the Beach House

It was already dark when we finally headed off in the right direction towards the Castillo beach house, where we retired for the night. I was riding at the back of the pack so I guess nobody saw me when my bike sputtered to a stop. Bone tired and scared of getting lost on the dark highway, I though that they sucked my gas tank dry. I found out my fuel petcock was turned off, switched it back on, rode as fast as I could and caught up with the group as they were making a right turn into a dirt road that led to the beach house.

Once settled, we ravaged our dinner like hungry wolves, and noisily watched Mandy’s video footages and exchanged trail experiences like howling coyotes. Boy Albos looked worried about the missing sheep, er, members of our group, but was visibly elated when Yoyong called at about 10:30 pm and told him that they found the lost riders safe and sound. They rode a boat with their bikes to Laiya, then took the highway and got to the beach house by 4am. Nonoy’s deft punch line (No, I wasn’t lost, I was just testing your rescue skills) woke up nearly everybody and made us laugh like crazed hyenas.

Looking back, the trail was much more difficult and more taxing than I had expected. It felt good to be counted as one of the tough guys who survived torturous challenges that required physical stamina, mental preparedness and technical ability. But then again, it may be that the Kapampangan in me just wanted to brag a little.