Cold and Spatial Glacial Placial

We left Seattle the following morning, flipped on the Potter (Harry Potter books on Mp3 read by Jim Dale) and took off across Washington, Idaho and a bit of Montana en route to Glacier Multinational Park. Not wanting to deal with the unknown of crossing the border into Canada we stayed in the Montana section of the park. Glacier is split into an eastern side and a western side, divided by the rather magnificent continental divide. Joining the two sides is a rather famous road called the Going to the Sun Road, a rather ironic name given the heat of the Sun and the cold of the road buried under the load of the snoad.


Continental divide


Skipping stones in the larger Glacial lake in the Park

Turns out that the high elevation of the pass through the continental divide causes the road to be under snow for about 9 months of the year, giving us a three month snow free window which we missed by about three days. Despite the pass being closed, we were still able to drive along the road for about 12 miles and settle down for a couple of nights at the final open campground on the road. The following day we hiked to the Apgar lookout along an inclined trail which escorted us through acres upon acres of Mountain Pine Beetle torn forests.



It is believed (by scientists, people who study data) that global climate change has spurred a longer wild fire season which simultaneously burns sections of the forests and attracts and contributes to the reproductive success of these highly invasive beetles. This became relatively apparent as we climbed higher and higher and noticed the vastness of dead, yet not burned, trees spanning the mountains with rare patches of uninfected green conifers. Perhaps the best thing about a mostly dead forest is how easily colorful birds stand out, and it wasn’t long before we spotted a rather lovely Western Tanager whose orange head and yellow body stood out like an average height person in a group of Japanese tourists.

After a couple of nights on the western slopes we drove around the southern border of the park and re-entered the eastern side for a night. Notable experiences from this side of the park include a hike to see three different waterfalls, all concentrated just above a large lake, all massive in their own right, and all from different rivers, a testament to the colossal quantities of water that are released as the mountains drip dry in the pressing summer heat.





After the hike we attended a bear talk from a bear man who stressed that in order to coexist with bears we must understand what a bear’s world is like from a bears perspective, for a bear does not see, smell or hear things as we do, but as a bear does. Incidentally, the bear man who has spent many years working in Brooks Range in Alaska (hot zone for the study of Grizzlies) informed us that despite the popularity of bells to warn off bears, bears take neither interest nor offense to the rather insignificant sound of a bell, after all, what does a bell mean to a bear, nothing. (If you would like to learn more about bears, do some research or call 1-800 I AM BEAR)


Black Bear IN Glacier

The sun dropped the moon popped we slept, woke and crept out of Glacier heading further south towards what we hoped would be slightly warmer and drier weather.

Cry of the Wild Goose

Wild Goose Island, Glacier National Park

An interesting Island, and classic tune by Frankie Laine (which can be heard on the link below)

My heart goes where the wild goose goes, and I must go where the wild goose goes
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BTuLCECvWrY

Sun in the city that always rains

Dear Reader,
Due to an extensive romp in the National Parks along the continental divide we have been blissfully isolated from the electronic world and unable to update the blog, but do not fret! There will be a couple of updates on the way in the next few days, the first of which is about our visit to Seattle....

After a stint in Olympic National Park Michael and I headed towards Seattle, where my Aunt and Uncle Biff and Pat and Cousins Sammy and Joey live. We took a Ferry from Port Townsend to Keystone, stopping at the Water Street Brewing Company in Port Townsend for a quick bite and a brew. After taking the Ferry we made the short trip to Biff and Pat’s house, where we were greeted with a great dinner of lasagna and awesome views of the bay and mountain range beyond.

The next day we took a bus into town, where we walked around Market Street and stopped by Pike Brewing Company to get some samples of their stellar brews. The Pike IPA and strong English ale were especially quaffable. The IPA was especially well balanced mixing citrus hop accents with a strong but not overpowering malt backbone.

Wednesday we headed to Diamondknot brewery north of Seattle. They had a surprisingly large number of brews on tap (11) considering the size of their brew setup. A highlight of the pub however, were the urinals made out of old kegs, very classy.

Thursday Biff and Pat got us all tickets to the FC Sounders game that evening. We grabbed some pre-game brews at Collins gastropub and then headed to Qwest field along with the Sounder’s faithful, who could be heard marching toward the stadium from 3 blocks away.


Collin’s Pub


Sounders fans marching to the stadium


Sammy showing his unique and unwavering support for the Sounders

Saturday we woke up bright and early (6:45 AM) and headed over to The George and Dragon English Football Pub so that we could get a good spot between the TV and bar to watch the USA vs. England World Cup Match (GO USA). Since the pub was an English pub, it was not an all American viewing. The crowd seemed to be split exactly down the middle between Sam’s Army and the English faithful. Every few minutes a loud chant would erupt from one side of the crowd, only to be met immediately with an equally rawkus cheer from the opposing supporters. It was an excellent world cup experience.

That evening we went out for a tasty seafood dinner with the family, topping off a great visit to Seattle. The next morning we woke up bright and early again and headed for Glacier National Park.

Two pieces of truth with a bit of fake meat

Having spent the better half our transition day between Bend and Hood River touring BBC (Bend Brewing Company) and talking with their head brewer, we didn’t roll into Hood River until late. The weather forecast for the night and the following few days was discouraging to say the least, rain with a side of a cold front. Not wanting to have to set up the tent in the rain, we settled on a less that attractive campground with the intention of spending one wet night in the area, checking out the local scene the following day and then making our way towards Portland. Just after we finished cooking up an average pot of Mac and Cheese, by far our simplest and most mundane dinner of the trip, the rain began to fall. We moved inside the tent, exchanged some serious blows on our recently acquired chess board and dozed off, in a manner of speaking. The campground that we chose was conveniently located right off the highway, a fact which does not easily fade from the mind. Just as you could feel your eyelids begin to weigh down, and feel the sleeping sensation take hold of your body, an 18 wheeler would cruise by doing about 75. Had we not been sleeping in a puddle, and had there not been trucks flying by the seat of their pants some 50 yards away, it still would have been a pretty terrible night, for just as the lull of the trucks seemed to disappear, the low grumbling of a much larger locomotive would begin to shake the ground. After a few more minutes a train the size of Texas would come bounding around the corner roaring its horn, as though the tremors of the beast weren’t enough to alert you to its presence.

Somewhere in between the rain, trains and trucks we managed to pull off a couple hours of sleep; at least that was until the camp ranger woke us early in the morning demanding that we pay the camp fee, a sum which we were hoping to avoid having to pay. Now wide awake, we packed up the tent, wet and covered in mud and made our way towards the town area. Sandwiched between a large crop of mountains and the Columbia River Gorge, Hood River has a number of small points of interest namely homey coffee shops and restaurants, and a large wind and kite surfing scene. Beer wise, Hood River’s largest attraction is the Full Sail Brewery, which despite its popularity had an average beer selection, none of which really put the wind in our sails. Just before leaving Hood River we found a comfortable coffee shop and booked a Hotel in Portland, which is where our story will now continue, sort of.



As the hour grew dark and we twisted in and out of city lanes looking for the rendezvous point, everything slowed down. I was driving, I was the getaway guy. “514 Northwest San Sebastian St.” The address bounced around my head, just as it had for the last hour. That street was all I knew, it was all I cared about. “You wait outside the building, they get in the car, you take them to this address, and then you get paid, and if any blue and whites get in the way, well, use your imagination”. The boss’s vicious voice cut through my memory, egging on the lawlessness that had taken hold of my stay in Portland. Those were my instructions, all I had to cling to; and with the chaos corrupting the rest of the city I dare say I found solace in the directness of his approach. I didn’t know what the scheme had been, I doubt if anyone other then the boss actually did. That was how he worked, just enough information to do the job, never more, never less. My company was this strangely ominous cat named Tyler. He didn’t say much, if it weren’t for the random grunt or deep breath I wouldn’t have even known he was there. Lord knows what his role was, I was afraid to ask, but I could tell by his rugged beard and scarred nose that he did some dirty work, you know hands on, the guy the boss calls when he wants someone to be found once, and then never again. His demeanor as he strolled out of the warehouse, blood still dripping from his hands told me all I needed to know. “Where’s the rest of ‘em”, I asked foolishly as he ducked his head into the car, “Boss said to pick them up”, “there aint no them anymore”, came his rumbling response “one didn’t show, the other, well..” His pause told me all I needed to know

The long hand circled the face of my wristwatch faster and faster inflaming my nerves as though they were ablaze. Neighborhood after neighborhood, city block after city block, none of this seemed right, surly I didn’t make a wrong turn, not now, not when everything was riding on me. Just as the deafening silence became unbearable I spotted it, NW San Sebastian St. A few quick turns and a bat out of hell 180 pulled us right in front of number 514, Portland Park Inn. The thick reddish bricks and few windows made this place look like a prison, had there been bars over the windows it would have been a prison. Definitely the spot, I thought silently, a deep breath finally purging my insides. “Stop the car” Tyler spoke, though softly it was a command, not a request. I obeyed, any courage that had spawned in my recent weeks as a vigilante quickly coward in the presence of this guy, hands still stained in the deep red ooze that both gives life, and more to the point, takes it away. “We are going inside, park this thing over there”.

I parked, got out and followed as we worked our way towards a far corner of the building, maybe the office. At the threshold stood a thick dark man, hair covered in a red cap, with a black sweatshirt that added a couple inches to his chest. “You got a reservation”, he snarled as though ticked off that our presence had turned him away from the guilty and no doubt illegal pleasures that typically occupied his time. “Yeah, the names Siegel”, I replied bravely. It was easy to feel brave when I had a true American badass flanking me. After examining a monochromatic screen on the computer the man came back, his patience being stretched paper thin. “Alright 1 night; that will be 80 bucks”. “Already been paid”, I responded, imagining all the while that the boss wouldn’t leave me in the dark about the motel fee. “Nah she’d have told me” he snapped back, “I been working here two years, so I would know if you had paid”. Not having any idea who she was, or any clue as to why the length of his employment was relevant, I stuttered not knowing in which direction to take the conversation. After a few more minutes of verbal commotion, she arrived (she being the owner) and sorted out the matter. “Room 33”, she snorted, drool dribbling down her pig like snout as she tossed a key on the counter and pointed her stubby finger towards the opposite end of the complex. The blacktop mile to room 33 seemed more like a trek through a condemned soviet schoolyard than a northwestern metropolis. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see snipers lurking on the tar. Beneath the cover of the impending dusk, we crept into room 33, shut the door, closed the blinds and sat in silence for several moments not yet believing that we had made it through this impeccable gauntlet.



This last little story encompasses quite a bit of fiction as well as fact. The story is definitely a break from the typical Beerandtrees blog post, but I could think of little else to do to describe what needed describing. I wouldn’t venture to say that it represents truth, more so it is the theatrical version of how our first night in Portland came to pass. The fact sections of this tale, which I will leave up to the reader to identify, inspired such a seed of disbelief and chaos, that before I knew it a rather large plot had developed exploring the results of our decision to book the cheapest hotel in the greater Portland area hours before our arrival. This story seemed to be the only worthy buildup to one of the greatest successions of odd events and scenarios I have experienced during this trip. Now let us continue our journey through Portland focusing perhaps a bit more on actual occurrences than my imagination.

We spent the night hidden in room 33 cooking a deliciously scrumptious dinner, throwing back some brews, colliding on the chess board, and every so often peaking out the blinds, making sure that Valeria the Valkyrie was not succumbing to her severe surroundings.



The following morning we packed up, left the USSR, found a coffee shop and booked a new place next to Portland State University, a far more enticing area. Despite finding our new lodgings on Hostelworld.com, we were surprised to discover that it was much more like a hotel/motel/Holiday Inn. We had two queen beds, our own bathroom and a window that looked out over, no not an ancient communist union, but a pleasant street with plenty of foot traffic and a small plaza. I would like to take this time to give a shout out to the hotel/motel on the corner of 4th and Montgomery. SHOUT OUT (do you actually have to give the shout out, or is simply declaring that you want to give one enough…?)



Official Portland, not so much the setting of the first part of this post, is a beautiful city, a perfect balance of structures and green space, intelligent public transportation and perhaps most importantly, a population that really buys into the style of the city. We spent our three days in Portland checking out the enormous Powell book store, overloading on sugar at Voodoo doughnuts, dining at the variable street cars, soaking up the weather both rays and rain, and sampling the largest selection of craft brews in the country. Two of the most notable breweries were Rogue Ales and Hopworks Urban Brewery (HUB). Whereas Rogue is a much larger brewery whose Dead Guy Ale makes it all the way to the east coast, HUB is a much smaller bicycle themed brewpub and restaurant that seems to have filled a nice niche in the Portland scene, definitely the right place to grab a burger and a beer.


The line outside of Voodoo Doughnuts


Foodcarts

We ended our stay in Portland by checking out the Saturday morning farmers Market just west (or north, who knows) of our motel. Packed with scores of environmentally friendly this’s and compostable that’s, we bought some delicious strawberries and two fine tubs of soup, corn chowder and tortilla which fit nicely into our plans of heading North to Olympic National Park.






Upright Brewing stand at the Farmers Market (fine farmhouse ales)

That Babe Can Brew!

After another round of shenanigans with Alan near Klamath Falls OR we packed up Valeria and headed north. The original plan had been to spend some time up at Crater Lake but due to the fact that all the campgrounds were still covered in snow and would not be open for two more weeks we continued on to Bend OR.

We rode into Bend in the late afternoon and headed to the well respected Deschutes Brewery that has been around since the late 80’s and is considered one of the forefathers of the craft brewing movement. At Deschutes I had a pint of the classic Mirror Pond Pale Ale which was served cask style and really scrumptious. Not overly hoppy with a nice balance of malt and hops that was accentuated by serving the brew cask style. Then with my burger I had a pint of the Black IPA.

Black IPAs have recently become quite popular, especially on the west coast. Black IPAs are essentially IPAs brewed a bit of dark malt, with the intention of retaining the hoppy flavor of an IPA but giving the beer a pitch black color. I have to say I was not very impressed with Deschutes’ black IPA. The brew tasted like someone had poured half a pint of an IPA and then mixed it with a half pint of stout. It was not a bad taste, but in my opinion if you are going to brew a new beer style called a black IPA, it should not taste like two beers mixed together but should have its own unique characteristics.


Some of the taps at Bend Brewing Co.

The next day we made our second stop at a watering hole in Bend, the Bend Brewing Company. The brew master at Bend Brewing is Tonya Cornett who, in 2008, won the Brewers Association World Beer Cup small Brew-Pub of the year award; and after a flight of her handcrafted brews it was not hard to see why. Michael and I both had a sampler flight, which was tasty to say the least. All the brews were stellar. The hefewiezen was crisp, refreshing, and served with a slice of lemon instead of the traditional orange slice which was a great switch-up, the Irish Red ale was served on nitrogen instead of the standard CO2, which gave the beer a great creamy mouth feel that complimented the rich malty flavors and spicy hops nicely, and the Double IPA was dangerously drinkable but still had a great hop punch.


Tasting flight at Bend Brewing Co

Bend Brewing also had a black IPA on tap, the Eclipse Black IPA. I was a much bigger fan Bend Brewings black IPA than Deschutes version. Bend Brewings version of the black IPA truly was a style unto itself, retaining the bold hoppy aroma and flavors of a traditional IPA, accompanied by roasted dark malt flavors as well as hints of banana and clove. This is a beer that you could not get by mixing and matching IPAs with stouts, this beer commanded its own style. However...when we got a tour of the brewery from the Brew Master herself, she said her goal for the black IPA was to create a beer that would taste just like an IPA when you closed your eyes and drank it, but looked like a stout when you took a look at the pint. Apparently we have differing opinions on what a black IPA should be, but lets be honest, when are you ever going to drink a pint with your eyes closed!?

After finishing our tour of the brewery setup from Tonya in-between her brewing sessions we jumped back onto our trusty steed and headed north toward Hood River.

Reservoir Dogs

I left sweet Valeria and the road-trip crew on May 21st in San Francisco. I left to go to Oregon to work, as planned, but was still unsure what that would entail. I was to be an aquatic colonial bird surveyor, working as a contractor for an organization that will remain nameless. But the work would be in south-central Oregon, characterized by the looming Cascades to the west, agriculture, and of course, marshes and lakes. Our 7 target species: Forster's Tern, Black Tern, Franklin's Gull, Eared Grebe, Western Grebe, Clark's Grebe, and White-faced Ibis.

I slowly began to adjust to life without QuafferT and ImmortalM. With a long list of wetlands to visit and a car loaded with my belongings, my field partner and I set off... and aside from a pair of crises: a broken-in passenger window and a broken-down starter.. things began to become routine. 1.) camp at a site 2.) wake up and survey it 3.) figure out how to get to the next site.

But the sweet truth was that I didn't have to be weened quite yet. The Valkyrie triumvirate did have one last hurrah! ImmortalM and QuafferT were planning on stopping by for a couple days to check the work out and relax on Memorial Day weekend. So, on the 30th of May I hailed down Valeria in the teenie town of Bonanza, Oregon... a town consisting of a general store and a smattering of houses. We caravanned out to Gerber Reservoir to search for a spot to camp. Passing by a few widely scattered camps we settled along the border of pines overlooking the reservoir. With a fourth member present, my co-worker Smeagol, a unique opportunity had presented itself: photos of all 3 of us in action. Oh the excitement. Oh the potential.

The first few hours of the evening consisted of decisions about the fire. We were blessed with a massive pre-built fire pit, so the opportunities were endless. Conversation focused on how to get two separate cooking stations going while simultaneously keeping a reserve fire in the center.


Another piece of luck fell upon us during our fire-work: the nearest group of people left their campsite! This could mean only one thing. A RAID!!!!! We charged down the shoreline to the other camp, scouring the earth for precious items, for anything that would assist us in running our own camp. A treasure trove lay around their fire pit. Huge, split hardwood logs and more importantly... bars of metal!!!!!! We carried everything we could and began re-building our fire stove. Man had discovered metal, and it assisted us greatly.


Needless to say, we had a thoroughly rousing evening. We scoped out the roosting birds and faraway people, and later on the full moon and stars. We sat around the fire and laughed our heads off, drank hot chocolate, and of course.... duked it out in marshmallow battles until we passed out from the sugar lode.

The game plan for the next day was to go out together to one of our work sites, check out some birds, and play adventurer. We headed to an expansive, flooded flat... stretching far off in each direction and filled, excitedly so, with nesting birds. As we arrived we saw one of our target species, black terns, flying buoyantly over the field. Along with them flushed willets, phalaropes, and yellow-headed blackbirds... while in the distance stood immense sandhill cranes.

So. We headed out into the marsh to look for black tern nests. We trudged like Vietcong across the rice fields.. stopping to examine what we discovered along the way.




And we discovered nests. Below, a tern nest... confirmed as the protective adults swooped and screamed over our heads. A quick photograph and we got away to prevent any further stress..


Here's another nest still under construction.


And for icing on top of the cake.. how about a Bald Eagle nest? Here's one of the adults screaming at us. No one got scalped.


For some reason I can't upload anymore pictures to this post so I will stop. But I'm sure ImmortalM And QuafferT will add some more about our galavanting as they see fit. I, on the other hand, will pack up my computer here in Klamath Falls, slide it into my backpack, toss the backpack into a backseat crevice, and start examining the DeLorme Atlas for directions to the next site.

Back into the Wild

Leaving San Francisco we drove to Sacramento for what would be our last stop in civilization for the next week. We spent a relaxing evening with Tyler's Uncle David in Fair Oaks, a suburb of Sacramento, strolling along the American river after a wonderful meal at Sudwerks, a German style brewpub. While the original plan was to leave Sacramento and head through UC Davis en route to three breweries, Russian River, Anderson Valley, and Bear Republic, we were overwhelmed with the daunting task of sipping suds at three separate breweries, and then finding a place to camp for the night. Our solution was to nick Bear Republic from the map, and focus on two highlight breweries for the trip. For an account of these breweries see the previous post by Quaffer T.



As we pulled out of the Anderson Valley parking lot we drove towards a campground on recommendation from the barmaid. We found the campground, pulled in and then pulled out as we were confronted with a 35 dollar price tag for a single night. Up to this point, having traveled through some of the most famous natural sites in our country, the most we had ever paid for a campsite was 20 bucks, so the idea of dropping 35 bones on a soggy plot of dirt seemed a bit beyond acceptable. As we continued driving, stopping every 20 or so minutes to check on other overpriced campgrounds, we came to a very unfortunate conclusion; California, having failed their econ class, jacked up the prices of state campgrounds in an attempt to boost the economy. Well I can name two individuals that will not be helping that cause. Disgusted, we decided to drive all the way up to the Redwoods hoping that a National park would be cheaper then State parks. At two o’clock in the morning, dazed, sleepy and confounded we made a dreadful error, an error which would cost us, guess how much, 35 dollars. We pulled into an overpriced campground with the intention of sleeping in the car and leaving the site before anyone could try and charge us anything. Unfortunately we overslept and were charged 35 pieces of American parchment to spend a less than comfortable night stowed in Valeria the Valkyrie.

The morning was slightly overcast, but as we followed a gravel road along the coast in search of a free campsite the sun began to peer through the cloud cover. On a tip from our National Parks guide, we found a beautiful campsite nestled just above the quintessential coastal gravel road. The campground had 10 primitive sites divided by thick vegetation and high grasses. Our misfortune from the night before seemed to have turned as the occupants of the most desirable site left just after we arrived. The site was separated from all of the others, situated at the bottom of a small grassy trail, with great morning sunlight and a grove of Birch trees that provided the afternoon shade.



Just through the birches was the glimmering reminder of our proximity to the ocean, and as the sun passed the overhead position and began to fade lower and lower, its light danced over the rippling tide casting a wonderful light show of deep reds and pinks over our copse.

Our time in the Redwoods was relaxing, and with the comforts of our exquisite and more importantly free campsite to return to we spent most of our second day hiking a trail called Tall Trees. This hikes claim to fame is the exposed 5th tallest tree in the world, and the more elusive tallest tree in the world. Having recently spent time in the Sequoias we had great criteria on which to compare the two parks.



For me, while the robust mass of the sequoias is unfathomable, the lush biodiversity of the redwoods tilts the scale in their direction for the award of “best large tree park” (awards will be handed out at the end of the trip). Redwood National Park receives up to 100 inches of rainfall every year which lands them comfortably in the temperate rain forest category. Everywhere you look life thrives, from the trees the push the 400 foot mark to the endlessly connected patches of over-sized ferns. “Never has a deep breath gone quite so deep as one taken in a rain forest”. Alas the rain began to fall, and we finished the tall trees loop experiencing first hand why life lives.



Three days in the redwoods came to end with a vibrant sun setting along the deep waters of the Pacific. As the sun seeped just below the horizon the clouds above were illuminated and guided our path back to our campsite for one final schluff (sleep), aided by the majestically complex song of the Winter Wren

Beer Mecca

Tucked into the sloping hills of Napa Valley wine country in the town of Santa Rosa, Russian River Brewing Co. is brewing up adventurous, envelope pushing, and delicious brews.


The current tap line-up at Russian River Brewing Co.

Russian River is best known for their Double IPA, Pliny the Elder: A velvety, hoppy, hand grenade of a beer that provides thirst quenching and refreshing hop bitterness with none of the lingering astringent, soapy, flavors that can arise from too much overbearing hops. This incredible balance is achieved, in part, by the use of the yeast Brettanomyces. This yeast (commonly known as Brett) is not normally used to produce beer, or wine, is typically considered a danger to brewing process, and a flawed flavor in most end products. In fact, many of the vinters from the local wineries will not step inside the brew pub for fear of accidentally smuggling some of these little beasties back to their winery. While many brewers fear Brett, it is used beautifully by the Brewmaster at Russian River to add a subtle, balancing, barnyard funk to Pliny the Elder that ties together the hops and malt, and smooths out the back of the palate, making this 8.0%ABV beer quaffably quaffable.


The oak barrels used for aging the Belgian quaffables

Along with excellent examples of big bold American style ales, Russian River also brews a wide variety of Belgian style beers that are aged in oak wine barrels previously used by local wineries (one of these brews being consecration, which we had at Toronados in San Fran). Not only does Russian River brew great beer, they also serve up some great thin crust pizzas like the salami, garlic, artichoke hearts, feta, and pesto pizza I had with my tasting platter.



From Santa Rosa we headed further North to Booneville where we visited the Anderson Valley Brewing Co. (AVBC). Another well respected California brewery, AVBC is represented by their mascot, the “Beer”, a Bear Deer hybrid that presides over their tasting room.


The Beer

Due to rainfall we didn’t get to play a round of disc golf on their own private course out behind the brewery, but we did get to sample some tasty brews and support the USA mens soccer team in their match against the Czech Republic. AVBC makes some stellar beers, such as their ESB and Amber ales which are great session beers. They also have some great big beers, their Abby ale and barrel aged sour barley wine were definite standouts. The sour barley wine (which gets its sour flavor from an assortment of yeast and bacteria) was aged in old oak bourbon barrels. The sour and tart cherry flavors from the barley wine, mixed with the vanilla from the bourbon barrels produced visions of tart, slightly sweet, cherry syrup drizzled over a bowl of vanilla ice cream as I sipped this intense brew.

From Booneville it was up to the Redwood National Forest on the north coast of California.


Valeria overlooking the Coast