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F E H C O T O M R E T S MA p an eclectic bunch of blokes sto n’t did ot’ arg ‘esc nce nou pro to e abl ng Not bei ight on NSW’s North Coast ride, fart and bake their way to culinary del IEN JERRY BERNARDO & GRANT O’BR
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eality TV shows are hijacking our brains, turning us into lazy, googly-eyed, mushy robots, who tend to stay indoors because it’s safer and close to the fridge that houses the comfort foods and beverages that are meant to nourish the soul. “To hell with that! We’ll create our own reality, thanks,” screamed a passionate bunch of
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trailriders as they geared up for the first ever Transmoto MasterMoto-Chef adventure ride. Departing from the small town of Minnie Water, near Coffs Harbour, they were destined for a secret secluded location in the hills of Dorrigo, a region renowned for having some of the best singletrail this country has to offer. The aim of the ride was that each rider packs their own
ingredients in their backpacks, not knowing what their fellow riders have, and on arrival at the destination the food items get dumped on a big table. The Master-Moto-Chef is then to use every ingredient with the aim of creating gourmet – or not so gourmet – dishes to feed the hungry pack of men, who’ve ridden their arses off all day long. And then the chef has to back it up, not out, for breakfast!
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Ingredients
JON “Master-MotoChef” SQUIRE Chef is a braver man than most, who was thrown into a hot frying pan full of greasy oil in this adventure. A normal day for this Pom is cooking up tasty meals at his Sphinx Rock Café in Northern NSW, not riding up and down steep and snotty hills with more obstacles than front row at a firing squad, but hey, we needed a top notch chef and he was mad enough to say yes!
JERRY “One Line King” BERNARDO Jerry was nearly aborted in Boston in 1957, has and just moved to Australia from California. He is the MC for the Crusty Demons and “President for Life” of FAHQ MC. He is a graphic designer and an artist, hence the eclectic behaviour. Jerry B delivered more dodgy one-liners on this ride than a nun on acid. Caution: contents slightly damaged.
Into the Belly of the Beast “I’ve never worn dirt bike boots before,” said the Chef a mere hour before the start of a 400km return trailride. Jerry B – still wrapped in a coma-like state three metres away – popped his eyes open and thought, “Oh my God, an anchor, just what we need.” If eight guys can ride fast and you bring one that can’t, nine guys now ride slow. With Mother Nature spitting down her soggy tears the night before, we were in for a bit of a greasy one. A ragtag group of nine brave souls would head off into the wild blue for two days of slop, nature and a mouthful of hot food at the end of the rainbow. The goal on the first day was to somehow drag the inexperienced Chef out to a halfway point on the trail to meet up with the rest of the crew. If he succumbed to the elements along the way, we would all devour our own backpacks full of uncooked food. The Chef was the key – ride to the middle of nowhere, dump out a crazy cornucopia of ingredients and somehow he would stir it up like a witch in a huge cauldron. Jerry was the first to get the brainfarts going when his bike didn’t start. After fussing around a bit and getting stressed, one of the boys asked, “You turned the gas on?” Boner move numero uno. The ex-pat Californian dropped his shiny Arai in shame. Leaving a caravan park, the early
stages of the ride were primo. Little did we know that when we hooked up with Doc our souls would pass into Nirvana. But the Chef was suffering a bit on his loaner Husqvarna 450. The bike was perfect, but Chef was all over the show. Line choice and throttle control had not come in his “media package”. When it’s slippery as a massage parlor you have to know these things, and Chef was in for a long day. We linked up with “Doc” and “Stoey” on their KTMs near Arrawarra and snuck west into the Anderson Mountains. Doc’s ability to not only memorise but link trails is uncanny. The trails we rode were a diverse combination of everything a singletrack junkie could desire. The tight wooded sections, uphills littered with jump-inspiring erosion breaks and butt-puckering rocky descents. Our reigning prison affiliate, JB, was in his zone. “Good to ride with real men again,” he mused. “This is a group of a dying breed; go to war and bring everyone home, assisting those who struggle as we go without the BS chest-beating of lesser men.” At times it was race pace for the brave, like an evil enduro special test. Using the “corner-man” system of not losing anyone, the group juggled back and forth. If you were behind someone slower, you just conserved energy until you were unleashed like
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a rioter after smashing a window front, coming in hot on slick 90-degree turns, two-wheel slides and short-shifting. The smiles beneath the helmets could be seen from dental conventions in the Big Smoke. Doc led us into the back of the hills near Nana Glen. Stopping on a rocky outlook over the postcard-like valley, he pointed out one of Russell Crowe’s properties. “He doesn’t ride dirt bikes,” quipped a sarcastic Jerry B. “Let’s go!” We all just wanted to ride. Well, maybe with the exception of the Chef, who was already drained mentally and physically. This was tough trail. No “C” riders come out here to have fun; this is the good stuff “AA” guys pine for. Quite like an enduro where they grind you in the last section, just outside Dorrigo was the “Valley of the Dolls;” super-tight, muddy, rootinfested singletrack that makes you tired when you are fresh. Most of the blokes were about as fresh as the meat inside JB’s backpack that had been out of the refrigerator for 10 hours. We rolled into the hidden camp location around 4pm like a bunch of masochists – beaten and loving it. Chef was safe, food was transported and the dorm-style rooms oozed with the fragrance of a footy locker room. Day one in the books and all safe – time to cook!
GRANT “Goba” O’BRIEN
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Goba was the key mastermind in the concept and execution of the MasterChef ride, which he managed to squeeze in between the Russian and Spanish X-Fighters rounds. As the “online” guy for Freerider and Trail Bike Adventure magazines he wears many hats: photographer, journo, X-Fighters FMX judge and fashion icon. He hates to shave but likes to save the planet one berm at a time.
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Curtis Stone DNS
Ingredients
GREG “5-Star” SMITH The chief photographer and Online Editor for Transmoto, Greg is a failed male model who only takes pics on rides because the heavy backpack helps him live out his hunchback fantasies. A skilled rider on the trail, “5-Star” is a connoisseur of the good things in life; dirt bikes, food and megapixels. Rumor has it he took the Lara Bingle shower pic.
STEVE “Superfood” CROMBIE Steve likes to ride long distances through difficult terrain for long periods of time by himself, and yes, he’s a loner! He gets excited by the idea of recording his travel experiences with film, photos, and words. Capturing all the beautiful races, places, faces and cultures, he allows people to follow along as armchair adventurers.
JOHN “Straight Outta Compton” BRYANT He’s been known as Johnny Kwala, Johnny Foo and now JB, and he loves his adventure trailriding. He’s hardcore, wears a Black Flag beanie, runs two private prisons, has written for lifestyle magazines – mostly skateboarding and surfing – and scored his job with Slam Skate mag after writing a dirty letter to the editor saying they had no soul.
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Think about this – the backpack that “5-Star” Smith had to carry full of camera gear is heavy. Motocrossers don’t even like to wear chest protectors. Everyone had to carry the food they chose to lug and all that they would need to sleep over and be warm for the night. Trying to “keep it light” really never did pan out for us. Imagine an attention deficit-afflicted child being sent to Woolies to shop with a fist-full of coin. As was our case, the plethora of ingredients was as confusing as it could be. “Chef, if someone had an eggplant in their backpack would it be OK by the end of the day?” Christ on a bike, let the cat out of the bag, why don’t ya? “Superfood” Crombie brought the weirdest stuff. Dehydrated roast lamb, Himalayan salts and Chia seeds. These are the things he brings with him when he has to pack light and provide a high return. Remember, Steve’s not used to being around people. This was like a banquet for him; one where you don’t have to scrub your butt. The outfits were also a point of note. It was if a bunch of homeless guys had broken into Ballard’s and made off with what they could reach.
Picture riding socks and ugly slippers your grandmother with bad eyesight bought you for Christmas. “Sleepy” even dragged a crappy old winter coat out of the bowels of his closet. Joerg had everything on because he “was cold.” Call the waaaam-bulance! We were a mess, but we didn’t care. After such a mind-blowing ride through the wilds of Doc’s private stash of trail, who really is the judge here? The Chef put on his hat and got to work. He stood there, soaking in all the ingredients, the recipe cards spinning behind his eyes. “I really didn’t know what to except to be honest, but I have to say I was impressed by the variety of ingredients, and my first thought was, ‘This will be a challenge!’ I knew I could make something out of it all; it was just hard to piece it together. I had to process every ingredient and put them into sections and work from there.” The ensuing drinking, cooking and piss-taking was five-star in itself. As the Chef did his thing, we all focused on mingling amongst each other’s brains. Or, in Jerry’s case, trying not to get too close to the burning magnesium of lotto balls he can sling.
He would whip one in hot at JB and JB would strike back. “Don’t fall in love, Jerry!” As much fun as riding dirt bikes is, the camaraderie turned out to be equally stellar. JB would later proclaim that he was disappointed; he was looking forward to taking the piss out of everyone, but they all turned out to be top blokes. The food hit the table and carnivorous activity ensued. From chicken wrapped in bacon and asparagus with a sauce from God, to ‘roo and beans, bush tucker rib-eye steaks in Ryberri sauce, Filo parcels full of bush foods, garlic and sweet potato, a lentil and eggplant dish, a fresh spinach and leafy greens salad, a mixed brown and white rice dish with shallots and spring oinions – it was MasterChef mayhem. Dessert would bring out caramel slices and Jerry B’s chocolate chip cookies he pre-mixed at home. After a gut-full of yummy, the off-switch hit our bellies and we all slowed down as fast as Chef on a downhill. The night continued like Vikings pillaging a village full of virgins – drinks and humour flowed and all was good with the world.
THE MAN BEHIND THE MEALS – JON SQUIRE
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o just who is the Transmoto Master-Moto-Chef, and how did he handle feeding all those hungry men? And what did he think about the adventure ride that nearly claimed his life more times than he’d like to remember? Jon Squire is his name. When we found him he was flipping burgers at his dreamy little joint called Sphinx Rock Café at an obscure place named Mt Burrell, which sits on Kyogle Road in Northern NSW. At the time he was hungry for an adventure ride – he’d only ever ridden slightly off-road aboard a KTM 950 Adventure, a bike he doesn’t own anymore. Goba happened to walk in one day for a feed on the way home from a trailride, they got talking, and next thing you know the seed was planted for the MasterChef moto ride. “I didn’t have a clue what I was
getting myself into, really. But I had a great time, really pushed myself to the limit and beyond, and now I have some great memories I’ll keep for the rest of my life. Going up those big hills was not too bad, but coming down some of those steep ones I nearly shit myself. One of them was just such a big drop I just couldn’t believe we were going to go down it. I inched it down slowly, used too much front brake and the bike started to tip forwards, then as I was just about to go over bars I let the front brake off and it rolled down safely. It was quite an amazing moment really. I wasn’t really scared, but thought at the time this is probably one of the trickiest things I’ll ever do! “I must say, feeding all those hungry men was a challenge. I had an amazing assortment of foods to work
with, and when I calmed myself and took in the number of riders to feed and how hungry they were, it all just fell together. I had a fair range of protein, plus a few ingredients I really had to work with in creating a dish on its own because the flavours were quite distinct. Plus I had a few packet items, which are actually good on a dirt bike ride like this one where you want to pack tight. “Steve Crombie’s ingredients were also a bit of a challenge because you can’t really make a meal out of Superfoods – Chia seeds, Himalayan salts, Cayenne Pepper and Bi Carb – so I had to find ways to add them to the dishes I was creating. They’re a very subtle flavour and I only sprinkled them on the dishes. I could see his character coming through in the ingredients he bought.
In the end we had quite a tasty spread of food. “For breakfast I cooked up a big batch of porridge, heated some dried fruits, bananas, added a side serving of nuts, chocolate and Chia seeds, and let the lads go for it. Overall it was all a great success!” Never have a bunch of dirty trailbike riders been fed so well on an adventure ride. There were no baked beans and sausages on white bread – it was gourmet all the way and the overall feedback was 10 out of 10 for the Master-Moto-Chef. Next time you’re passing through the Tweed Valley in Northern NSW, stop by the Sphinx Rock Café and say hi to Jon, grab a coffee and a burger, and tell him you read all about his adventures in Transmoto, and we’re sure he’ll look after you! www.sphinxrockcafe.com
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Ingredients MARK “Doc” DOWNY Doc is the man responsible for linking some of the best singletrail this world has to offer, and has a head like a GPS. How he joined so many virtually invisible, primo trails together is beyond us. When he’s not exploring trails he works as a motorcycle mechanic, and lives for the next day he’ll be out in trailriding nirvana. Doc is a handy guy to know!
Dirt Déjà Vu “We can kill the Chef now; head for the tough trails!” someone blurted as we prepped for the ride back. The Chef surprised all of us, from stating he had “never worn dirt bike boots” to a day later soldiering on through 200km of soul-crushing singletrack, he had earned his first merit badge. The whole group embraced his novice status and chipped in along the way with little riding tips. Stuff that you learn over years of riding was now being hucked at him with light speed. “If there is an uphill with a log, square it off and pop the front wheel over it but stand up before the back tyre hits. Oh, and don’t forget to let off the throttle so the back wheel won’t spin.” This is stuff we all take for granted, like a symphony of roost. It becomes second nature to the more experienced, what to do and when. Chef was in the hot seat and on a crash course, and crash he did. Crombie came down a super-slick hill to see the Chef just off the trail, crashed in the bush. As he tried to slow down, he also went down. Trouble was, Jerry B was hot on Crombie’s tail and had to stab the front brakes on a dime, stopping only centimetres from Crombie, who had already turned with his
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arms up to defend against the oncoming 450X. Chef loved that – he was inspired. The second day’s ride was a cracker; the sun had come out and the trail continued to evolve in diversity. Doc had no problem beating us up – some struggled, others didn’t. He would throw in proper rest sections here and there just to keep us alive. Words were often exchanged at the end of a killer section: “Dude, that was sick!” Thumbs up and hand signals not even found on Los Angeles highways flowed. By now everyone was in tune with their machines, charging when possible, living the dream of a free nation. No work, all play. The thing about riding is you don’t spend time obsessing over work issues or what your partner said. Your only job is to stay on the trail, ride fast and not get hurt, period. This is why we ride; escape and freedom mixed with two parts exercise. “We all have to go to work on Monday,” JB would say, reminding us to keep safe. Doc and Stoey dropped us off amidst high fives and praise for a job well done. Crombie peeled off down the bitumen to the airport in Coffs. Glad I wasn’t sitting on that
STEVE “Sleepy” SLEEP plane within nose’s reach of old “Superfood!” Now it was back to Sleepy who had led the ride in the beginning. He and Goba had spent a few weekends in this region sussing out the connection to Doc’s place. Tired but still grinning ear to ear, the remaining crew headed through the bush back to Minnie Waters. Jerry B didn’t want the ride to end and rode a little over his head right to the end, claiming there was still a little hidden energy to be dispersed. A few last pictures were taken by ‘5-Star’ on a sandy, whooped-out trail 3km from the vans, and it was a wrap. Sleepy and Jerry B, while out front and hooning, turned to see a bouncing kangaroo paralleling them on the trail. Jerry, new to Australia, would claim it to be both surreal and spiritual as a fitting end to an adventure of a lifetime. “I saw the ’roo and I thought, I live and ride in Australia now!” It was way better than trying to start a bike some dumb-ass hadn’t turned the gas on!
Without this man, the Transmoto MasterMoto-Chef adventure ride wouldn’t have been half as good as it was. He’s a happy go lucky adventurer who enjoys life to the max, and went beyond the call of duty to ensure we had nothing but the best trails to ride. Sleepy, who led us into the wild, is a rock wall-building extraordinaire, loves his job, trail-riding, and lives for the great outdoors.
JOERG “Not So Serious” HOFFMAN Joerg is German and he’s serious, but not really serious, but can come across as serious because he’s German. He is the marketing guru at the Paul Feeney Group who imports Husqvarna. He even brought along his own Husky cast iron frying pan, but it was too heavy so we scrapped it. Joerg loves Australia and trailriding, and he’s not leaving anytime soon.
THANKYOU... The Transmoto Master-Moto-Chef ride didn’t just manifest one fine day – there were many who contributed their time and energy to make it the great success it was. Thanks to Steve “Sleepy” Sleep, Joerg Hoffman and Patrick Lowry from Husqvarna, Mark “Doc” Downey, Gavin Eales, Jon Squire, Chriso, Wayne, Stoey, and all the lads who joined the ride!