The best of the GABF

The Great American Beer Festival has long topped my list of must-dos. I finally went this weekend with my brewer buddy Mike Clark. Here's the best and worse of the day.

Top 12 beers I'd never tried before:
1. Black Tuesday, The Bruery.
No. 54 on the Beer Advocate list. Bourbon-barrel stouts were the bell of the ball, and this was the best. Huge, rich beer that is amazing. Folks were buzzing like crazy about it all day. Rightfully so.

2. Founders' Canadian Breakfast Stout.
No. 17 on the Beer Advocate list. Really rich. Really sweet. Pretty much incredible.

3. Hunahpu's Imperial Stout, Cigar City.
No. 45 on the BA list. The beer is aged over coffee beans and ancho chiles. It's big, bold and awesome.

4. Bourbon Country Brand Breakfast Stout, Goose Island.
No. 21 on the BA list. Another big stout that tasted more of alcohol but still really solid.

5. Founders' Breakfast Stout.
No. 7 on the BA list. It's great but doesn't pack quite the taste of the Canadian.

6. Firestone Walker's Parabola.
No. 97 on the BA list. It's a pretty intense imperial stout, but mellower and more mature than some of its competition. Really solid.

7. Older Viscosity, Port Brewing.
Really, rich intense stout from one of my favorite breweries. Worth seeking out for sure.

8. Maduro Oatmeal Brown Ale -- Oatmeal Raisin Cookie, Cigar City.
It tasted like a Oatmeal Raisin Cookie. Really different but in a good way.

9. Vlad the Imp Aler, Cascade.
Really great sour. I liked it better that the Bourbonic Plague I also had from them.

10. Racer X, Bear Republic.
The best IPA of the day from one of my favorite California breweries.

11. Bourbon Barrel Stout, Odell.
A damn nice example from a damn good Colorado brewery. Their line-up could have been one of the best at the whole event. Odell is so much better than New Belgium, it's laughable.

12. DeConstruction Ale, Odell.
A wonderful American strong ale.

Biggest disappointments
1. Dogfish Head.
Their line-up was woefully underwhelming. A lot of creative beers that seemed like they'd be awesome but lacked the taste I was looking for. The smokey and bitter stout Bitches Brew was the best but was merely OK. Theobroma, Chateau Jiahu and Grain to Glass were a waste of ling-waiting time and valuable drinking space in my gut. I left still puzzled about why DFH is so well liked. Their 60 Minute IPA is very solid. I think their 90 Minute is way too malty for the style. Much of their other creative stuff seems to miss the mark. I appreciate their pushing of the brewery boundaries, but I really dislike a lot of their stuff.

2. Sam Adams.
They kept teasing the pouring of their fabled Utopias -- the 27-percent alcohol beer that pours from a copper container. We checked back many a time to get a hold of it, but they opened it on the sly and it quickly disappeared. Would have loved to try it.

3. Brooklyn Brewery, AleSmith, Bell's and Stone
Four breweries I wanted to visit but didn't have time. Maybe next year.

Simply the Brett

Brettanomyces is an oddity of the beer world. It's essentially a yeast strand that has morphed and gives off a very odd flavor. In many beers, finding brett would be bad and give it a bad flavor. But some kinds of beers -- mostly those brewed in the Belgian style -- are centered on brett.

And few beers do it better than Boulevard Saison - Brett.

I love saisons. At the moment, they're my favorite style. And Saison - Brett is one of the best out there.

It pours golden with a frothy head that quikckly disappears. Smell is of hops and yeasty spiciness.

The taste is very crisp from dry hopping. Then you get that Brett funk. Some say it's a horse-blanket taste. Others say hay, straw, must, barnyard. Sounds gross, I know. But that funk works really well with the crisp hop bite and the crazy yeast spiciness. The Brett taste lingers. But there's also some peppery and even slightly sour notes going on.

It all combines for a very crisp, aggressive, robust saison. If anything, it may be too aggressive. Ommegang Hennepin, which I see as the Cadillac of the saison style, has a lot of the same flavor profile, but everything blends a little bit better.

Still, Saison-Brett can't be faulted. This beer is spectacular.


The details:
Name: Saison - Brett
Brewer: Boulevard Brewing Co.
Beer Advocate rank: 87
Style: Belgian Saison
Alcohol: 8.5 percent
Cost: $11.69 for a 750-ml bottle
My Grade: A
Skinny: This beer certainly isn't for everyone. It has a very distinct taste -- one that I love. It's highly creative, while still fitting firmly within the confines of the saison. In short, this is a beer you should experience -- whether you'll like it or not. I very much like it.

Mt. Tam

After spending a couple days trudging around San Francisco -- including one epic 20-mile walking day -- I needed to get out of the city.

I set my sites on Mt. Tamalpais. It's the tallest peak near San Francisco, peeking out above the Golden Gate Bridge. It's in the California Coastal Range -- San Francisco on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other.

I drove around Mt. Tam State Park looking for the trailhead for a while. Eventually, I met some elderly hikers who told me where to park and where to start the hike.

The trail began on a paved road that quickly became poorly maintained dirt. The road weaves its way to West Point Inn, a rustic lodge reachable only by hiking. It's a great spot with beautiful views of San Francisco and the ocean.

I hiked past the inn to the summit of Mt. Tam. It's a little bit of a letdown because you can drive right to just a few feet below the summit via a beautiful paved road.

I wanted my legs to do the work, though. Still, I met a number of tourists who'd driven. That's always a bit of a downer.

The summit was cloudy -- as is common, but the cover parted enough in spots for me to get a full view of the beautiful terrain around me. That area of the country is awfully hard to beat. And Mt. Tam is the perfect physical escape from the great big city of San Francisco.


The details:
Mt. Tamalpais via Pantoll Road and West Point Inn
Location: About 5 miles north of Mill Valley, Calif.
Length: 6 miles
Beginning elevation: 1,950 feet
Peak elevation: 2,574 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 2

Ghostly good

Sunday night was an evening of high expectations. The series finale of "Lost" aired. To commemorate the death of my favorite show, I picked a beer I'd been highly anticipating drinking -- Fantome Saison. (Plus it seemed like a good fit with "Lost," a show that features a phantom-like smoke monster.)

Fantome Saison is the highest rated saison, according to Beer Advocate. Rate Beer also gives it a 99 out of 100. Since I love saisons, I really, really wanted to try this beer, which is brewed in Belgium and is hard to find in the US. I got lucky and snagged a bottle at New Beer Distributors in New York.

As I watched the two-hour recap that preceded the "Lost" finale, I cracked open the Fantome.

It had a slight sour and musty smell, but it's faint. It poured a cloudy gold that gets milkier further down the bottle from the unfiltered yeast sediment.

The taste was surprisingly delicate -- slightly sour with some barnyard funk. The sour hits the back of the mouth, causing a slight pucker and the roof of the mouth to salivate. The funk -- a light horse-blanket taste -- intensifies on the backend. The beer has a flat carbonation, which makes drinking it sort of a wine-like experience.

What the beer lacks in taste intensity, it makes up for in authenticity. This is a classic farmhouse ale -- raw, simple, natural, organic. It's an artful Belgian gold ale that is worth seeking out.

That said -- like the "Lost" finale itself -- the Fantome didn't quite meet my lofty expectations. It's a good beer for sure. But I don't think it's great.


The details:
Name: Fantome Saison
Brewer: Brasserie Fantome
Beer Advocate rank: 68
Style: Belgian Saison
Alcohol: 8 percent
Cost: $12 for a 750-ml bottle
My Grade: A-
Skinny: Saisons just may be my favorite beer style at the moment. I highly anticipated this one because it's rated the best saison in the world by Beer Advocate. It's good, for sure -- delicate, funky, raw. But it's a bit more understated than I expected. I'd put it third on the world's best saison list -- a bit behind Ommegang Hennepin, which for me is still king of the saisons, and the wonderful Boulevard Saison - Brett.

Hiking buddies

It's been a rough year with the divorce, the move and all that. The two things this blog is about -- hiking and beer -- have helped get me through. My love for both have given me something to concentrate on when everything else has fallen apart.

But, as is the case in most things, it's the people associated with the activities that are most special. So here's a roll call of folks who have helped me get through. They're chiefly my hiking but also my drinking buddies.

I've known Leif Sidwell since I was 4. We've been fast friends ever since. He's always there for me -- no matter the problem or time. I've probably spent more time hiking with him than anyone else. The best trip was last summer when we spent seven days in the wild near Gunnison, Colo. It was awesome -- not nearly as awesome as Leif's beard at the time. After I move to Colorado this summer, I'm sure we'll be hauling each other around the backcountry and up 14ers. Can't wait.

Chuck Rowling has been one of my best friends since middle school. When I separated from my wife and quit my job in January, Chuck insisted I come spend a month with him in Tacoma, Wash. We went on some epic hikes -- on the Olympic Peninsula, in the caves of Mount St. Helens, on the Oregon Coast, on the flanks of Mt. Rainier. Like Leif, he's been a steadfast friend through the bad times, and I'm extremely thankful for it. I've vowed to climb Rainier, and I hope to haul Chuck up with me.

Dustin Stover -- along with Leif and Chuck -- has been a best friend since high school. Our hiking stretches back to high school excursions on the South Loup River north of Kearney. We were able to trudge around together again in Los Angeles this spring when we hiked in the hills of northwest L.A. It was an odd but cool experience. I wouldn't expect anything less from Dusty.

Josh Nichols and I have been on some epic hiking experiences. We went to college together and worked at the Daily Nebraskan student newspaper, but our friendship blossomed when I convinced him to take a reporting gig at the Grand Junction Free Press. There, we climbed our first -- and second -- 14ers together, we endured a waterless hike to see the arches near Grand Junction and we scaled Crags Crest on the Grand Mesa. I spent two weeks with him and his awesome wife KP in Montana on my road trip this winter. They showed me some cool spots up there, too.

I met Cullen Purser by chance. I'd been assigned to write a story about his furniture-making prowess. We quickly became friends, and Cullen graciously showed me many of the off-the-path spots in western Colorado. My favorite excursion with him was last fall when we backpacked on the flanks of Mount Sneffels near Ouray, Colo. I took the usual backpacking stuff. He took a coat and an umbrella. That's hardcore. He's been a great friend beyond that, always willing to listen and give honest advice. Plus he's let me sleep in his shed many nights.

(Special thanks to Jennifer Conner, Katie Perkins Nichols and Jeannine Purser for putting up with me and letting me abduct their husbands for adventures in the wild over the years. Your patience -- and friendship -- is much appreciated.)

'Berry unusual

New Glarus Brewing Co. is a sacred -- or is it spotted? -- cow of the American craft-brewing movement. Anyone who's had its brews will tell you they're world class. The trouble is getting the beer.

Situated in a small, central Wisconsin town of the same name, New Glarus only distributes within the Wisconsin boarders. They claim it's because they can only make so much beer.

Whatever. I'm sure they could reach further than they do. It's a shame because so many beer lovers would love to snag their products.

I've gotten lucky a few times. My former boss is from Wisconsin, and she brought me some Spotted Cow and Fat Squirrel. But I've always wanted to try New Glarus' Wisconsin Belgian Red and Raspberry Tart -- both of which are ranked highly by Beer Advocate. Thanks to my generous buddy Mike, I got to try the latter.

And, boy, was it a trip of a beer experience.

The color is beautiful. It's a jewel-like reddish amber. The first thing that hits you is the smell -- sweet, full raspberries. The taste runs a quick gambit -- initially sweet, thing an acidic sting, then a tart bite. That sweet-tart flavor lingers on the tongue for a while after the swallow.

I'm not big on fruit beers. They're just so strange, but I like Raspberry Tart a lot better than Lindemans Framboise because New Glarus' offering is much more authentic-tasting and well-rounded.

And if you're going to drink a fruit beer, this is the one to try. In the style, it's world class. If you're not a cheese head, though, good luck finding it.


The details:
Name: Raspberry Tart
Brewer: New Glarus Brewing Co.
Beer Advocate rank: 60
Style: Fruit Beer
Alcohol: 4 percent
Cost: $8.50 for a 750-ml bottle
My Grade: B
Skinny: This doesn't drink much like a beer -- more like a sparkling wine or cider. It's a startling experience -- sweet and tart. While it's not my favorite beer by any means, it provides a really interesting drinking experience. It's especially good for dessert -- or girlfriends.

Terrible Tilly

Sometimes, good trips go bad in a hurry.

My friend Chuck and I decided to take a trip to the Oregon Coast one weekend in early February. We knew it would be rainy, but, heck, that's Oregon. We left late on a Friday night after a dissertation meeting Chuck had at the University of Washington.

We jetted down I-5 through southern Washington and into Oregon. We eventually made it to Cape Lookout State Park near Tillamook, Ore., around midnight. We found a camping spot in an eerily vacant portion of the campground. We set up the tent in the rain, pounded a few Deschutes and Widmer Brothers beers and went to sleep. The crashing waves of the Pacific lulled us to sleep.

We awoke to the sound of a vehicle driving up, the slamming of its door and the crunching of boots on gravel.

"Good morning," a serious voice said. "I'm ranger John Johnson. I'm here to inform you that you're camped in a part of the campground that is closed. You're too close to the dunes. Waves have been known to crash over them and flood this section of the campground."

It was 7 a.m. He gave us two hours to get out of there. So we hurried. We grabbed some coffee and Tillamook cheese and drove a couple hours to Tillamook Head, which guidebooks dub as the quintessential Oregon Coast hike.

Things started out well. The beach was beautiful -- it's where "Goonies" was filmed. We trudged up up a steep cliff lined with lush trees and overlooking an especially gnarly part of the coast. We eventually emerged at a cool campground with wooded structures, walked past an old World War II bunker and peered over a huge cliff. There, in the distance, was Terrible Tilly. It's an iconic Oregon lighthouse that got it's name because it endures some of the worst sea storms in the U.S.

Most people stop there and turnaround. But we decided to trudge further through the forest to a place called Tillamook Head. We happily hiked. At one point a huge tree had fallen on the trail and we had to trek a quarter-mile out of the way to get around it.

As the trail got worse, a couple trail runners blazed past us, burning through the trees. We started to descend the trail. Then it disappeared in a mess of mud, fallen trees and mist. We trudged around for a good half hour or more. Then we were thoroughly lost. We thought the trail was a loop, and we desperately wanted to find the way back.

We never did. In fact, we found a different trail that took us further from our car. We didn't stick on it long. We eventually found the original trail and hiked back the way we came. Chuck and I didn't talk much. We were tired. We were hungry. We were pissed. And the rain never let up.

We got to that fallen tree. Instead of walking around, we climbed over the huge splitters and dangled over a 500-foot drop to the ocean. We made it fine, but it was scary.

We eventually made it back to the car, downed some Gatorade and ate the cheese. Our original plan called for us to camp that night. Instead we drove to Portland, drank a lot of beer at a Deschutes Public House in Portland and slept in our car in a Portland State University parking lot.

All in all, it was pretty miserable. But, as more time gets between then and now, the adventure seems sweeter. We're both glad we did it.


The details:
Tillamook Head
Location: About 5 miles north of Cannon Beach, Ore.
Length: 4 miles (or 6 if you get lost)
Beginning elevation: 20 feet
Peak elevation: 1,010 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 2, worse if you get lost

Chocolate and beer

Chocolate beer? Doesn't sound like a great idea, right?

But Brooklyn Brewery's Black Chocolate Stout does it right. When I was planning my trip to New York City, scoring some was a priority. I did just that at the frumpy-fabulous New Beer Distributors. Snagging a four-pack was a coup because the stout is a seasonal winter brew. I wasn't sure I would be able to find it in May. When I saw it on the tightly packed shelf, I greedily grabbed it.

This beer is for the greedy. It's over-the-top indulgent. It pours a jet-black with a small, frothy head. It's technically a Russian Imperial Stout and smells like one with a rich malty aroma that has a bite from the hops and high alcohol content.

On the first sip, the beer coats the tongue and has a weighty feel in the mouth. It has a nice hoppy bite up front that melts away into the rich malts. There definitely is a chocolate hint -- from the chocolate malted barley used in the brewing process. But the chocolate taste is fairly subtle. It's more of an allusion. It's not overpowering or syrupy.

In short, the chocolate fits. It works. Beautifully. So well, in fact, that Black Chocolate Stout easily takes a spot in my top-three stouts.

There's only one problem: I wish I would have brought back more than four bottles.


The details:
Name: Black Chocolate Stout
Brewer: Brooklyn Brewery
Beer Advocate rank: NR
Style: Russian Imperial Stout
Alcohol: 10.1 percent
Cost: $9.75 for a four-pack
My Grade: A
Skinny: It's not as chocolate-tasting as it sounds, but it is just as indulgent as its name suggests. This beer is in my top three stouts -- along with the Abyss and Old Rasputin. It's robust and rich. The 10-percent alcohol doesn't hurt its case either. A really nice drinking experience.

Hoh!

Here's how I pictured Washington: Green from all the rain, lots of mountains that aren't quite as dramatic as the Rockies and rugged beaches.

What I didn't picture was mossy trees in a huge North American rain forest. But that's what I saw a whole lot of -- especially on the Olympic Peninsula's Hoh Rain Forest.

The place is surreal. Even in February, it was lush, green and humid. Hundreds of elk darted in and out of the trees as my friend Chuck and I walked along the muddy dirt trail. The Hoh River babbled mere feet from us.

Gorgeous waterfalls trickled down from the Olympic Mountains. Huge trees had fallen decades ago and stretched sometimes 100 feet along the trail. Their massive roots curled 20 feet into the air.

The 17-mile trail eventually leads to Mt. Olympus. We didn't follow it nearly that far. Instead, we stopped at 5-mile Island -- a rocky piece of land jutting out into the river.

The trail itself is a good adventure. We had to jump creeks at certain points and crawl over those big downed trees. Even though the trail wasn't too steep, it's still a strenuous 10-mile haul.

The best part: The trip back to Seattle takes you through Olympia, where you can eat at Old School Pizzeria.

The details:
Hoh Rainforest Trail, from the visitor center to 5-mile Island
Location: About 20 miles southeast of Forks, Wash.
Length: 10 miles
Beginning elevation: 200 feet
Peak elevation: 700 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 2

Let's hear it for New York

My recent trip to New York City made me look at beer with an "Empire State of Mind." Like with food, art and theater, New York knows how to do beer right.

The best beer experiences from the trip:

5. Drinking Peroni at Lombardi's Pizza in Little Italy. The pizza, of course, was better than the beer. But if you're crunching an old-school Margherita, drinking anything but Peroni would be blasphemy.

4. Drinking Hoegaarden at the White Horse Tavern in the West Village. At this bar where Dylan Thomas drank himself to death, the beer selection isn't great. But Hoegaarden was a nice find. And our server happened to be a native Nebraskan.

3. Drinking Green Flash West Coast IPA at the Blind Tiger in the West Village. The bar had lots of good craft beers. They advertised having Dogfish Head on tap, but they didn't when I walked in. Lots of Rogue, which is cool. But the Green Flash was a nice hoppy treat on a sunny NYC day. The bar is cool with 30-some craft brews on tap daily.

2. Drinking Three Floyds Dreadnaught IPA at the Pony Bar, three blocks west of Times Square. The Pony Bar is awesome -- young, professional drinkers crammed into a small but classy bar. And beers are $5. That's a sweet value that close to Times Square. Plus Dreadnaught checks in at No. 30 on Beer Advocate's Top 100 list, so that was a nice find. The Pony is best bar I've ever been to in New York City.

1. Buying a bunch of hard-to-find beers at New Beer Distributors in NoHo. The warehouse-like beer store near Little Italy and Chinatown was dark and dingy. But it was full of brews you can't score in the Midwest. My haul included the much-sought-after Fantome Saison, the awesome Brooklyn Brewy Black Chocolate Stout, said Green Flash IPA and a Young's Double Chocolate stout. The only drawback: My suitcase was really heavy on the way back. Had I had my car, I'd probably have bought the place out.

The worst experience? The $10 Miller Lite at Yankee Stadium.

Flatlanding

Here's something I never thought I'd say: I've been running a lot.

Please note I said I've been running. I am not a runner. There's a big distinction in that.

Runners love running. They get off on the pain, trucking along roads, monitoring their heart rate.

I hate running. Even though I've logged 75 miles in the past six weeks, I still hate it. I dread putting on the Asics I bought on sale for $30. I have trouble breathing at the start. My stomach cramps up often. My legs get tired. I rely heavily on Sufjan Stevens, Ben Gibbard and Britt Daniel to sing me through.

But I keep doing it. Why? A few reasons.

Mostly, I want to be in good shape when I move to Colorado this summer. I want to be able to better climb 14ers and more easily haul backpacks into remote sections of the Rockies.

Also, my family has a pretty wicked history of heart disease. I'd like to beat that.

And -- who am I kidding? -- as a guy recently separated from his wife, I'd like to be more appealing to women. I'd like to make my gut recede as quickly as my hairline.

After hiking a whole lot on my West Coast swing, I was in pretty good shape. I didn't want it to waste away, so when I came back to Nebraska, I began running. It started with a 3-mile run on my 30th birthday in March. It's advanced to an 8-mile run today. I clipped it off in 74 minutes. That's 9:15 pace, which won't win any races but isn't shameful either.

Aside from the physical benefits, running has made me appreciate and connect with the flat land surrounding the home where I grew up. I run along mostly gravel and minimum-maintenance roads. Part of my usual trek along U Road south of Kearney runs along the Oregon Trail. Earlier this spring, I ran near Sandhill Cranes that majestically migrate to south-central Nebraska every year.

Don't get me wrong, I love mountains. I'll take a drastic, dramatic landscape over Nebraska's every time. But when it comes to running, flat rules. Plus the rigidly gridded road system makes measuring miles really easy. The dirt roads are laid out exactly a mile from each other.

A note on the picture: It was taken by my son. When he's with me, he and my dad usually jump in Papa's pickup and come hassle me.

I love that picture -- the weathered pick-up bed, the sentinel telephone poles, the startlingly flat fields and me actually doing something I never thought I'd regularly do.


The details:
Kearney County gravel road gallop
Location: About 5 miles south of Kearney, Nebr., on Hwy 44
Length: 8 miles
Beginning elevation: 2,150 feet
Peak elevation: 2,150 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 1, depending on the wind

It's the end of the world

When I was a late-teenager, I visited Canada with my family. Because the drinking age was quite young there, I was able to legally drink beer. My dad and I decided we'd move beyond the regular Coors Light and try to become more enlightened beer drinkers.

We tried local Canadian beers like Labatt, Molson, Sleeman and other regional brews. They were all essentially light lagers. While they certainly boasted better craftsmanship than Bud and Coors, they weren't exactly cutting-edge craft brews. On a boat tour of the Saint Lawrence River near Quebec City, we ordered a local favorite -- La Fin du Monde.

Our Nebraska taste buds weren't ready for the complex Belgian-style triple. As my dad said, "It tasted sharp." I thought it tasted spicy and almost spoiled.

It tasted, well, like the end of the world.

La Fin du Monde translates literally as, "The end of the world." I still think it tastes that way -- but with a twist. It's a beer you want to taste at the end because it's so complex and rich it puts others to shame.

The beer pours a light gold with a delicate head. It smells yeasty -- almost like elaborate spices. It tastes the same. The yeast strains are so intricate, your tastes buds are almost overloaded. Your head spins trying to figure our what's going on. Then, quickly, the experience is over. The taste ends crisply, leaving you refreshed. You go back for more. Then the 9 percent alcohol hits you. And that's always a good thing.

I eventually did become a more enlightened beer drinker. After getting into Americanized imperial stouts and IPAs, I moved on to Belgian-style beers. Belgians are a trip, and that journey took me back to La Fin du Monde.

I grabbed a bottle at the wonderful Omaha beer store Beertopia this week. I brought it home to my dad. He laughed when he saw it -- both out of the Quebec memory and out of nervousness that I'd make him drink it. I had since broken him in on Belgians a bit, so I thought he might like it. I coaxed him into it.

He took a drink and nodded. "It's good," he said. "Real good."

I guess that trip to Quebec years ago is still giving us some culture.


The details:
Name: La Fin du Monde
Brewer: Unibroue
Beer Advocate rank: 91
Style: Belgian-style triple
Alcohol: 9 percent
Cost: $8 for a 750 ml bottle
My Grade: A
Skinny: If the world were ending, this is one of the last beers I'd want to drink. It's golden in color, packs a spicy, yeasty finish and boasts a nice 9-percent alcohol punch. Perfect for sipping in the summer or early fall. In terms of triples, it ranks only behind Westmalle in my book.

King of the mountains

Mt. Rainier is an incredible sight. At 14,411 feet, it towers over Washington. It explodes from sea level and on clear days dominates the horizon.

I was fortunate enough to snowshoe on its flanks on one of those clear days in February. The experience easily ranked at or near the top of my favorite treks on my West Coast swing. And it left me infatuated with getting on top of Rainier sometime in the near future.

My friend Chuck -- a University of Washington-Tacoma political communications professor -- had never been snowshoeing before. And I really wanted to mess around on Rainier. So we chose a popular and beautiful trail for an excursion.

Reflection and Louise lakes -- two pristine mountain ponds -- are nestled in the ridges and trees to the southeast of Mt. Rainier, or Mount Tahoma, as the natives call it.

The trail started out steep just beyond a warming hut at the Narada Falls parking lot. The traverse along a sheer, exposed face had Chuck and I wondering about avalanches and our own stamina. Both worries were moot.

The trail gained a ridge with jaw-dropping views of Rainier. Seeing the mountain pop out from behind snow-covered pines almost took my breath away. It's a cliche, but it's true.

We followed the ridge to another steep section. At its crest, it quickly dove into a narrow ridge filled with more tall pines. After a short romp, the trees opened to reveal Reflection Lake. Rugged peaks circled the lake.

Another short trek would have taken us to Louise Lake, but it was late in the day, and we played it safe. The trek back to the car revealed more amazing views of Rainier.

It truly is king of the mountains in that region. And it looms large in my mind and on my list of peaks I want to summit.

The details:
Reflection Lakes via Mazama Ridge
Location: Near Mt. Rainier, 8 miles northeast of Longmire, Wash.
Length: 5 miles
Beginning elevation: 4,500 feet
Peak elevation: 5,100 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 2

All hail the king

Maharaja in Sanskrit means "great king." Take a sip of Avery Brewing's Maharaja Imperial India Pale Ale, and you'll see that the name is apt.

With all due respect to Budweiser -- which isn't much -- Maharaja is a true king of beers. Despite its "Imperial" name, Maharaja is a double IPA. It tastes similar to Ninkasi's Tricerahops but bigger and better in about every way.

The hoppy aroma is rich. It boasts a ridiculously bitter hoppy bite up front. There certainly is a lot of maltiness on the backend, but it blends nicely with the hops. The alcohol content is huge -- 10+ percent.

The only problem: The Maharaja has a short reign. It's a seasonal brew, available March through August.

So get it while you can. This beer just may be the best that Boulder-based Avery produces. It's certainly one of the best double IPAs this side of the West Coast.


The details:
Name: Maharaja Imperial India Pale Ale
Brewer: Avery Brewing
Beer Advocate rank: NR
Style: Double IPA
Alcohol: 10.27 percent
Cost: $8 for a 500 ml bottle
My Grade: A
Skinny: This beer reigns supreme in every way -- its name, its rich flavor, its high alcohol content. If you're a double IPA fan, it's a must drink. You won't abdicate this beer anytime soon.

Super Sedona

Sedona, Ariz., is one of those places I'd heard about forever but never visited. I was curious what I'd find. I'd heard that the hiking is amazing, that hippies love the place because of its vortex energy and that rich people have taken it over and made it Arizona's Aspen.

After driving from LA to Flagstaff, Ariz., and crashing on some North Arizona University basketball players' couch, I drove down to Sedona to check it out.

I was highly impressed.

The place reminds me of a more wide-sweeping and beautiful version of Grand Junction, Colo. Red rock spires and mesas pop out of the desert surroundings. It's dramatic.

After stopping at the Sedona visitor's center, I settled on a 5.5-mile hike that cuts through valleys and over mesas in the northern part of Sedona.

Because I got an early start, I beat a lot of the tourists to the trail. So I hiked more or less alone along the red-dirt trails. The path swerved through pinon and juniper trees. Large cacti covered the ground in spots.

The hike followed three trails: Cibola Pass (a standard-looking trail), Soldier Pass (basically a jeep trail) and Brins Mesa (another standard trail). The loop was fairly easy. The end of Soldier Pass boasted some steep sections (which two sports-bra-wearing female trail runners had no trouble taking in swift strides).

It needs to be noted I hike this trail in mid-March. So it was chilly. In the summer, it could be dangerous. The surrounding desert is hot and dry. Without ample water and smart clothing choices, you could find yourself frying.

All in all, though, Sedona shouldn't be missed. The scenery is spectacular, and I reckon you could hike there for years and not find all of the amazing trails.



The details:
Cibola Pass, Soldier Pass, Brins Mesa loop
Location: About 2 miles north of Sedona, Ariz., at the Jordan Road parking lot.
Length: 5.5 miles
Beginning elevation: 4,500 feet
Peak elevation: 5,300 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 2

One for the ages

Here's a three-horned approach you should take if you ever visit Eugene, Ore.:

1. Run Pre's Trail. (It's a flat but often rainy 4 miles.)

2. Visit the Pizza Research Institute. (The pie with baked spicy tofu, roasted garlic and black olives is wicked good.)

3. Drink lots of Tricerahops from Ninkasi Brewing Co., preferably at its very modern, very hip tasting room.

With a name like Tricerahops, the beer has to be big. And it is. The double IPA gores you right away with a ridiculous scent of hops. Then you get that piny bite with the first sip. It finished with considerable malt -- maybe just a bit too much for me.

But make no mistake, this beer should never go extinct. It's one of my favorite double IPAs out there.

Ninkasi is a super-cool brewery, as well. It's young -- founded in 2006. But it's one of the fastest up-and-comers in the brewing world. The brewery is named after the Sumerian Goddess of fermentation. The brewery's Web site tells the rest of the story.


The details:
Name: Tricerahops
Brewer: Ninkasi Brewing Co.
Beer Advocate rank: NR
Style: Double IPA
Alcohol: 8.8 percent
Cost: $5 for a 500 ml bottle
My Grade: A
Skinny: It's a dinosaur-big beer with a really piny bite followed by some really strong malt. The only reason it doesn't get an A+ is because the hop bite and malt finish don't match up as well as, say, Pliny the Elder.

My son on the summit

I remember long ago when one of my friend's parents led us on a hike through Nebraska's Halsey forest. It was a Cub Scout outing, and the event very much fit the scouting mission.

But I hated the hike. It was long and hot. I cursed the parent for pushing me further and completing it.

The memory rushed back last week when leading my 4-year-old son on his first Colorado summit bid. When pitching a spring break roadtrip to Colorado and Utah, I told Rye we'd climb some mountains. He seemed excited.

As we drove from my friend Leif's Boulder apartment to the base of Mt. Sanitas, Rye squealed: "The mountains are so cool. Colorado is the best place in the world." He even said he wished his hometown of Omaha had mountains.

When we started hiking, he ran up the steep stair-like trail. He squirmed out on rock overhangs. He moved those little legs like pistons.

About an hour into the hike, things changed. He had tripped over a rock and hurt his hands. His legs were tired. The wind was getting colder. "I hate this mountain," he said. He begged to turn around. He had come to curse me like I had that Cub Scout parent.

So I picked him up and slung him on my back. I trudged up the steep, rocky trail with my son on my back for the last half mile. Eventually, we reached the top. I got the summit high. It always feels amazing to get to the top. I was even more stoked to have my son with me.

Rye didn't feel the same way. Look at the pictures. He was tired and in pain. He didn't even want to smile for the cameras. I gave him a granola bar and some apple juice. Then I started to carry him down the steep stretches.

Eventually, though, he perked up. He squirmed down onto the trail and jumped off small rocks. He ran down steep patches. He joked that we'd left his beloved bankie at the top of the mountain, and we'd have to go down to get it.

Maybe the granola bar and juice pumped up his blood sugar. Maybe he was elated to be going down the mountain instead of up, toward quesadillas at Qdoba instead of exposed, windy mountain peaks.

Or maybe -- just maybe -- he's got a little mountaineer inside him. Maybe he'll be like his dad, hating hikes as a youngster but loving them as a man.

The details:
Mt. Sanitas
Location: On the western edge of Boulder, Colo., beginning at Sunshine Canyon
Length: 3 miles
Beginning elevation: 5,506 feet
Peak elevation: 6,863 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 2 (4, with a 45-pound 4-year-old on your back)

Best of the breweries

A big portion of my trip through the West was to visit some of the best breweries not only in the country but the world. Here are the best:

10. Big Sky Brewing, Missoula, Mont.
A shed near an airport never produced stuff that tastes this good. Big Sky is known for its Moose Drool brown ale, but they have more adventurous stuff on tap. The brewery skews nice on the inside with lots of swag for sale.

9. Kettlehouse, Missoula
Big Sky gets all the Missoula props,, but Kettlehouse makes better beers. Cold Smoke Scotch ale is their top-seller, but their IPA is darn good. The brewery is a dump -- basically a loading bay. It's usually packed with University of Montana students. Cool atmosphere.

8. Stone, Escondido, Calif.
This is by far the nicest brewery I've ever visited. It's in a huge pristine building. It has a swank restaurant. It even has its own hiking trail that surrounds a beautiful outdoor beer garden.There's a free tour with free tastings. I like some of their beers -- Double Bastard is awesome -- but most don't do a whole lot for me, which is why Stone doesn't rank higher.

7. Avery, Boulder, Colo.
I've been there three times, and it never gets old. They make some awesomely over-the-top beers. Maharaja Imperial IPA is amazing. The Beast is darn good, too. It's all available at the taphouse for $1-4 for small tasters. They offer a free tour but no free booze. The guys there are cool, as are the fellow drinkers.

6. Oskar Blues, Lyons, Colo.
In between Boulder and Estes Park is Oskar Blues. Their known for two things: a great Imperial Stout called Ten FIDY and for being one of the first craft breweries to can their beer. But it's also a very fun place to drink. I had an unfiltered IPA called Gubna that was a really interesting beer. Plus, the ladies tending bar are really cute.

5. North Coast, Fort Bragg, Calif.
As if making the amazing Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout wasn't enough, the brewery sits right along the rugged Northern California Coast. The English-style bar features all the North Coast favorites and a few experimental beers. The brewery is being renovated and wasn't open for a tour, which is a bummer.

4. Ninkasi, Eugene, Ore.
This is one of the top up-and-coming breweries in America (probably behind only The Bruery in the LA area, which I unfortunately didn't get to visit.) Ninkasi makes some really good beers, highlighted by the double IPA Tricerahops. The tasting room has a modern, bright feel. Plus it's close to the Pizza Research Institute, which is a very good thing.

3. Lost Abbey/Port Brewing, San Marcos, Calif.
The atmosphere is awesome in this one brewery that houses two brands. The tasting room is in the loading bay of the brewery. The chairs are kegs topped with bags of sugar. (The resident cat Amarillo is pictured above sitting on one.) The beers are incredible. The Lost Abbey beers are some of the best Belgian styles made in America. The Port beers are hoppy San Diego classics. I was the only visitor there one afternoon and ended up drinking Duck Duck Gooze with head brewer Tomme Arthur at the bar.

2. Russian River, Santa Rosa, Calif.
Best beer. Period. Pliny the Elder. All the world-class sours. When it comes to beer it can't be beat. And the vegetarian sandwich with big hunks of mozzarella and roasted red peppers didn't hurt things either. But Russian River lacks atmosphere. It's just a brewpub with no public tour. That kind of stinks, and it doesn't match up with its reputation. That said, the beer stands on its own. It's worth the trip just for the sips.

1. Diamond Knot, Mukilteo, Wash.
Four words: This place kicks ass. The brewpub sits on the Puget Sound. Just feet away, ferries shuttle cars to and from Whidby Island. A blond little person is the featured waitress. I wanted to be the heavily bearded bartender. Patrons crunch peanuts and toss the shells on the floor. And -- not to be ignored -- the beer is amazing. The IPA is one of my favorites ever. I could hang out in this place all day everyday.

Urban exploring

I gotta admit part of me dreaded visiting LA. I don't really like big cities. I certainly don't like plastic people. I absolutely hate gridlock traffic.

I encountered all that. But my friend Dustin, a larder manager at the swank Tavern, showed me a cool oasis of nature in the urban jungle.

We hiked a couple trails at Will Rogers State Historical Park . The trail begins just off Sunset Boulevard near Santa Monica. Many parts of "Curb Your Enthusiasm" have been filmed in the area. But those scenes focus on the restaurants and multimillion-dollar houses in the area.

The trail itself is a very easy walk, culminating at Inspiration Point. The view is inspiring, with nice looks at Malibu, Santa Monica, the Pacific Ocean, downtown LA and the mountains in the distance.

To extend the trip, we meandered on a more secluded path for what seemed like hours. It wound near a creek and through suburban neighborhoods. It was odd being in such a huge city but walking on a border with nature.

I guess that's the beauty of the West. Civilization connects with still-wild lands. I never thought I'd see that dichotomy in LA.

The details:
Inspiration Point
Location: Will Rogers State Historical Park, near Sunset and Evans in Pacific Palisades, Calif.
Length: 2 miles (can be extended with other trails)
Beginning elevation: 350 feet
Peak elevation: 750 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 1

Best bars in the West

Every major town has at least one beer lover's bar. I hit up quite a few of them on my swing through the West. Here are the best six:

6. Father's Office, Los Angeles.
Huge selection in a very small space. Pricey, as is expected in LA, but you can get almost any style of beer you want.

5. Brouwer's, Seattle.
Sixty-four beers on tap. A faux-Belgian layout. This is probably the haven for Seattle-area brew lovers. The downside is it has a bit of pretension because of it.

4. Bottleworks, Seattle.
Technically, this is a beer store. But they have three to five beers on tap everyday. It's very low-key and often features hard-to-find beers.

3. Horse Brass, Portland.
An English-style pub, but this one is actually very authentic. The beer list is staggeringly long. This is the perfect place to drink after a long day snowshoeing on Mt. Hood. Getting so hammered you sleep in your car is completely optional. But likely.

2. Toronado, San Francisco.
Located in the famous Haight district, this bar is a must-visit in SF. Huge beer list, very cheap happy hour prices and an awesome sausage joint next door.

1. The Dray, Seattle.
A small, clean spot with just a few beers on tap. But, man, those beers are awesome. The owner has agreements with Belgian breweries. Often, The Dray will have the only keg of a Belgian beer sent abroad. The bartenders are awesome and friendly. Their music selections are killer.

Three Seattle honorable mentions: Uber, Naked City and Hopvine

Beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge

"I descended a dusty gravel ridge beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge. Until I eventually arrived at the place where your soul had died." --Ben Gibbard in the Death Cab for Cutie song "Bixby Canyon Bridge."

Of all the places I knew I'd visit on my journey through the West, I most anticipated seeing Bixby Bridge. It spans a creek and inlet of the Pacific Ocean in one of the most beautiful stretches of California's Big Sur coast.

But it also plays a key role in Jack Kerouac's book "Big Sur." He retreated to a cabin beneath the bridge to escape the stress of growing fame -- a result of his smash hit novel, "On the Road." He didn't find the solace he wanted. In the throes of severe alcoholism, Kerouac had a mental breakdown at the cabin. He died about a decade later.

"Big Sur," in my mind, is much better than "On the Road." It's rawer, real and better written.

The book -- and the bridge -- have become an inspiration for many artists. Death Cab's Ben Gibbard is chief among them. Gibbard went to the cabin to try to channel his inner Jack, an important influence on Gibbard. But Gibbard -- like Kerouac -- found nothing at the cabin beneath the bridge, which he explains in "Bixby Canyon Bridge." (Why he added the "Canyon" to the title, I don't know.)

Anyway, the book, a recent documentary about it ("One Fast Move or I'm Gone") and the film's soundtrack recorded by Gibbard and Son Volt's Jay Farrar inspired me to do my own exploring beneath the bridge. On a glorious California day, I drove to the bridge, hopped out of my Honda Civic with a copy of "Big Sur" in my pocket and intending to descend that dusty gravel ridge.

It wasn't that easy. The ridge is actually a poorly maintained road. All of the property along it is guarded by gates. So if you want to get beneath the bridge, you actually have to down-climb steep rock walls closer to the bridge.

I poked my head over the cliffs, trying to decide how to get down. I meandered a while, too scared to try any of them. Then I ran into four 20-somethings from Riverside, Calif. They were on their own quest for Jack's ghost. We coaxed each other to try to descend the 500 or so feet down to the water.

We cut a steep path through bushes and along dusty paths -- run-walking toward the lush green trees below. I never would have tried it alone. After slipping, sliding and fretting about poison oak and ticks, we finally made it.

The creek ran high from the spring rains. The trees glowed green for the same reason. Violent crashing waves provided a far-off soundtrack. It was exactly like Kerouac had described in the early chapters of the book.

We followed a trail toward the ocean. We eventually passed an old, rusted car that had fallen from the bridge decades before. It, too, plays a key part in the book.

Then we saw the ocean, the spot where Kerouac penned the poem "Sea" that concludes "Big Sur." We rolled up our pants, ditched our socks and shoes and pranced through the sand and gravel-floor creek. At one point, marooned against some rocks, a huge wave smashed us and coated our lips in salt water.

We then followed the creek away from the ocean and into the trees. We knew Kerouac's cabin was somewhere in that direction. Where the trail crossed the creek, we rigged makeshift bridges of fallen trees.

Eventually, though, the creek drank our trail. We had to turn back, having not found Jack's cabin.

Still, we could feel the writer. We were in the place where his soul had, in fact, died.

Getting back up the parking lot was a chore. We free climbed a very steep rock face. It was scary and difficult.

But each pause in the climb provided incredible views of the Pacific. And Kerouac stayed constantly on my mind.

Later that night, after climbing another mountain further south of the bridge, I opened a bottle of wine and read "Big Sur" b the fire ring. I finished the book there in the campground, jotting down thoughts, memories and feelings from my climb and my life.

Unlike Gibbard, I felt I was closer to some kind of truth. Because of Jack. Because of Big Sur. Because I was there, and I'd done it.


The details:
Bixby Bridge
Location: California's Big Sur Coast, 15 miles south of Carmel
Length: 2ish miles
Beginning elevation: 500 feet (descending to sea level)
Peak elevation: 500 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 4

Older is better

So I turned 30 today. It's really not that big of a deal to me. Birthdays never really are. The best part is that you get to do things you enjoy. So today, I ran three miles on a desolate Nebraska gravel road. I played football with my dad, son and niece. I held my adorable daughter a whole lot.

And, of course, I drank a beer I love.

Today, it was Pliny the Elder. And, man, do I love that beer. And since I'm officially an old man, it made sense.

It's a beer brewed by Russian River, which I've already written a ton about. It's super hoppy. Not as bitter as its son, Pliny the Younger, but still very piny and crisp. My friend Dustin said that bite gives it an almost apple-like flavor.

Elder also has some serious history. Russian River brewer Vinnie Cilurzo brewed the first double IPA at San Diego's Blind Pig brewery in 1994. The style has taken off since, and Pliny the Elder is very similar to that original.

I drank Elder on tap at a bunch of spots in the west -- Seattle, Portland and -- most importantly -- Russian River's brewery in Santa Rosa, Calif. Visiting that temple of beer was really cool -- plus I meet some cool people and ate some good food.

But back to the birthday. I bought five bottles of Elder at Seattle's Bottleworks. I knew I'd be drinking one on my birthday. Is Elder better than Younger? When it comes to beer, I'm not so sure. It's a close argument. But in life, yeah, I hope as I age things will only get better.


The details:
Name: Pliny the Elder
Brewer: Russian River Brewing Co.
Beer Advocate rank: 6
Style: Double IPA
Alcohol: 8 percent
Cost: $5 for a 500 ml bottle; or $8 for a pint in an LA bar
My Grade: A+
Skinny: It may not be as sexy as Pliny the Younger, but it's still a damn good beer with a lot of important history. And it's a great beer to drink on your birthday. It's a big gift to yourself.

Tick walk

Big Sur is a pretty special place (look for another post on that soon), but I have to admit my journey up Mt. Manuel in Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park was anything but awesome.

It's a 10.5-mile slog that covers about a 3,300-foot elevation gain across some really beautiful terrain. But guidebooks warn to be wary of two things: poison oak and ticks. Well, I avoided one.

A couple miles into the tough hike, I felt a stinging on my back. I reached under my shirt and discovered what felt like a zit that needed to be badly popped. So I reached back to pop it -- and pulled out a red tick. I freaked out and threw it to the ground before I had time to see if its head was still attached to its body.

For the next 8 miles, I was super paranoid about ticks. Whenever I walked near some timber or branches on the trail (which was often because it wasn't very well maintained) I would wipe down every inch of my clothes, check my pack and search my hat for the little critters. A few times, a couple would be crawling up my pant legs or hanging out on my pack.

Aside from the tick stress, the hike was just plain hard -- steep, long and lonely. And it had a bunch of false summits. In fact, what appears to be the summit at the end really isn't. You have to hike another quarter-mile to a rather unspectacular summit. But the summit medallion was there, and that means you've reached your goal. I was stoked to see it.


I was also stoked to see great views of the Santa Lucia mountains, the Point Sur lighthouse and the beautiful Pacific Ocean.

Turns out, I must have got the head out of my back when I ripped the tick away. It stung for a few days, and I was highly paranoid about getting Lyme disease -- especially since I'm uninsured. But I'm fine now, a couple weeks later.

All in all, it's a beautiful hike. But it's a trial -- both in steepness and in creepy crawlers.

The details:
Trail name: Mt. Manuel
Location: Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park
Length: 10.5 miles
Beginning elevation: 300 feet
Peak elevation: 3,3800 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 3 (5 if you count the ticks)

Never say die

One of my staple beers has long been North Coast Brewing Co.'s Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout. I'm not much of stout lover, but Old Rasputin is easily my favorite (aside from maybe Deschutes' Abyss.) Long story short: The recipe increases the amount of hops and alcohol, which a long time ago helped keep the beer from spoiling when the English shipped it over to Russia.

The beer is named for Rasputin, a Russian mystic who held influence over the ruling family in the early 1900s. Many attempts to kill him off failed. Hence Old Rasputin's "Never say die" catchphrase.

That history just adds to the fact that the beer tastes really good.

When I was planning my West Coast excursion, I knew from the start I wanted to visit a bunch of breweries. North Coast was at the top of the list and persuaded me to take a swing through Fort Bragg -- which isn't a fort at all, but instead a really small town on the Northern California coast.

Walking along Fort Bragg's Main Street, you can smell the malt heating in the brewry tanks. It's a mouth-watering aroma. So I sauntered over the taproom and tried the brewery's range of beers, including -- of course -- Old Rasputin.

The beer is way different depending on how you drink it. Out of a bottle, it has a reddish tint, and the hops are very intense. Out of a tap, it's much frothier and creamier and the malts dominate. (An aside, the beer is a tough one for bartenders. Like Guinness, it froths a lot. Most bartenders waste a lot of beer pouring it off to get a thin head.)

Either way, the beer is very complex for a stout. It has a lot going on, and makes for a very interesting drink. One that will continue to be one of my staples for a long, long time.


The details:
Name: Old Rasputin Russian Imperial Stout
Brewer: North Coast Brewing Co.
Beer Advocate rank: 96
Style: Imperial stout
Alcohol: 9 percent
Cost: $4 for a 10-ounce pour
My Grade: A+
Skinny: One of my all-time favorites. It combines an aggressive hoppiness upfront with a strong, stout maltiness on the back end. Add the interesting history of the style of beer -- and the nefarious character for which its named -- and you've got yourself a winner.