The Beer Chronicles, Day 11 - Cali in Our Rearview

Geocache Early, Drink Later

Patton Monument

It was an unwritten rule on our journey that we would walk at least three miles a day.  The reasons should be obvious: it's very easy with this much beer drinking to gain weight and that's the last thing that either one of us wanted.  The health issues aside, gaining weight makes you more sluggish, less capable of travel, and generally goes a long way to making life more miserable.  I say this as someone who has been overweight most of his life but now that I'm at least at a relatively stable weight, a heavy beer habit can weigh heavily on that stability without adequate exercise.  My sis felt similarly so we resolved to get our exercise in early today, well before the relentless heat of desert would take its toll.

Tank Cemetery

To that end, I planned out a few well-reasoned stops in California, one at Chiriaco Summit and the other at Desert.  Both had nice little hikes to remote geocaches; plus we would arrive at both early in the morning, thus reducing the heat issue.  The first stop, Chiriaco Summit, was roughly 1800 feet above the Coachella Valley floor at Sea Level, is a strange blip in the road along I-10, most famous for its doting monument/museum to that craziest of WWII generals, George S. Patton.  The geocache here, a virtual aptly dedicated to veterans, was followed by a hike into the desert behind the museum, where we passed the "tank cemetery" into the open desert.  Strangely, there were also people camping in disheveled old trailers out here, away from any civilization of note.  Then again, maybe that was the point.

Steve's Self Memorial

After securing the cache and stopping for coffee at the nearby gas station/convenience store, we moved on to our next stop, the near ghost town Desert Center, appropriate named as it lies approximately halfway between Blythe on the Colorado River to the east and Palm Springs to the west. Here we took a longer hike out to an outcropping of rocks about a mile from parking, where a strange monument to a man named Steve had been erected, apparently by himself. The area, clearly a former mining spot, was apparently favorited by rock climbers and partiers alike given the stashes of water and empty beer cans that we found.  As to the fate of Steve, I'll let your imagination run wild. Personally, I imagine Steve living out his days a hermit, huddled in one of the main caves that are formed out these rocks, living on lizards, scorpions and the occasional beer that friendly passersby throw his way.  Or maybe it was all a lark, a self-referential joke played by "Steve" on his fellow miners.  The mystery remains.


On Towards Phoenix
After a brief stop in Blythe for caffeine, we high-tailed across the western Arizona desert into Phoenix, an urban sprawl of heat... And misery.  Today, the temperature was a subnormal 99 degrees and traffic was mercifully light.  I have to admit: I find it hard to warm up to Phoenix, despite the obvious irony of that statement given the usual temperatures here.  It's always struck me as a bit like Los Angeles; massive urban sprawl (albeit better planned since it's so much younger), smog, and ribbons of tarmac leading everywhere.  The freeway is king in Phoenix and while there are signs of progress regarding mass transit (both LA and Phoenix now have limited light rail service which is expanding yearly), my feeling is that Phoenix is basically LA without the good weather.  That said, I am quite fond of finding "diamonds in the rough", those little gems that make every city worth going to.  The ultimate example of this is El Paso, Texas, a scant 40 miles from my home and frequently the butt of many jokes about its squalid appearance, its poverty, and its general lack of good looks, a perception which is true if all you ever do is drive I10 to the airport and back.  But El Paso is a city of many secret delights- which I will elaborate on in a future blog entry- after the latest brewpub there, El Paso Brewing Company opens their doors later this summer.

OHSO's Huge Bar

Phoenix is also a place of hidden gems, which I have had the fortune to discover over the years. There's the magnificently ostentatious Chase Field, where the Arizona Diamondbacks make their home and which I had the pleasure of visiting multiple times during their one and only World Series year 2001. There's the South Mill Ave area of Tempe near Arizona State University, which has one of the greatest concentrations of nightlife west of the Mississippi (even the hair stylists stay open until midnight!). There's the Mesa Arts Center, a beautiful entertainment complex that attracts top notch talent from around the world. Furthermore, Main Street Mesa is home to the easternmost branch of the local light rail, which extends all the way into downtown Phoenix and beyond (NOTE:  as of April 2016, the Valley Metro Light Rail extends all the way to 19th Ave north of downtown).  Finally, Desert Eagle Brewing Company brews up fabulous pints just a couple short blocks down from the Arts Center.

But today's hidden gem was found a scant distance from the upscale community of Scottsdale, in north Phoenix.  Tucked away in an unassuming little strip of businesses, OHSO Brewing Company is a slice of beer heaven in the ravaging heat of the valley.  Obviously started by a group of home brewers, this place serves up a cornucopia of excellent brews and some pretty great food as well.

Experimentation is the rule of the day here, not surprising considering their humble origins. Sure, they have some "normal" beers, such as a rather ordinary American lager, but it is in the realm of seemingly average varieties that they stand out.  A great example of this is their Strawberry IPA, where the strawberries subtly balance a huge hop finish.  In a similar vein is their amber called Cold Wet Nose, which has a distinctive oaked honey palate.  Even more bizarre is their so-called blonde ale, a bizarre concoction rightly called a Popsicle Blonde, as the frozen confection is the first thing that hits your taste buds with this one.  Even their pale ale isn't exactly out of the brewers book of pale ales 101; called the OHSO Grovey, this lightly hopped ale screams orange and cream, making it the alcoholic equivalent of one of those dreamsicles we used to devour as kids.

Fermentation at work - OHSO Nano Brewery

My favorites at OHSO were their heavier beers, though, including an Imperial Stout called Dis is PB&J, an apt name for a beer that oozes with peanut butter and strawberry goodness.  Even the finish reminded me more of a wheat beer, with its distinct biscuity quality.  Finally, if you want to get your buzz on in both alcohol and coffee directions, I recommend trying their Morning Brew, a coffee infused cream ale that tastes like a carbonated latte that could easily sit in for your usual cup of jo. The fact that I include the latter cream ale as a heavier beer speaks about the fact that this place is all about experimentation, causing a visual dissonance to the eyes even as we quaff a coffee-like beer that's as clear as lager.

Magic Happening - OHSO Nano Brewery

As I've mentioned before, I frequently like to sit at the bar of a brewpub, striking up conversations with fellow beer connoisseurs and friendly servers. OHSO took this sort of thing into new realms, as our lovely server decided that we needed to meet the resident brewmaster, Matt Flanagan. He was more than happy to meet someone who was as fascinated by beer as he was so he took me on a private tour of the fermentation area, as well as the storehouse where they kept their hops, grains, and other secret ingredients. I saw how dry hopping worked, as he opened up one of the small fermentation tanks to watch the process taking place. Let me tell you; that moldy mess I witnessed is hardly the sublime beverage we would eventually try, likely turning off would-be beer drinkers with both looks and pungency. But not me; the very process of brewing is so interesting that even the sight of hops molding on the top of fermenting ale couldn't stop me wanting to learn more. Even the temperature of the room- barely above freezing it seemed- did not deter me from wanting to see and learn more.

But all good things must come to a close so after our wonderful tour and an offer to come back and take a class on brewing (net cost $0, after the $50 credit for beer at the pub that defers the cost of the course), we set off for our final destination on our beer cruise, the place it all started, Tucson. Both of us were tired from our long journey so the plan was to hit one and only one brewpub before settling into our hotel room and ordering a pizza.  So how do you choose?  Of course, we could have gone back to one of the others we'd tried or venture into downtown in search of craft beer and distilled beverages but instead we opted for one I'd heard about, perhaps only in legend as it turns out.  Our Garmin took us to the alleged address of Iron John's Brewing Company, where we found ourselves in a residential neighborhood, clearly not the location of the brewery. Fortunately, Google Maps had a far more accurate bead on this place. But did it? Really? This location looked more like a really run down strip of businesses, the kind of place that might be home to locksmiths, bad Chinese restaurants, or ancient dentists.  But it was there, barely visible from the frontage, the tiny brewery that would turn out to create some of the most incredible beer I've ever had, certainly the best that Arizona had to offer.

The tasting room barely qualified as one, with a bar that sat maybe four or five and a few very small tables. Packed to the hilt, I'd say this place could seat 20, maybe 24 people, tops. But none of that mattered once we tasted their beer, each one better than the one before.  Or maybe not. During our flight, my sis and I went back and forth between them, unable to decide which was better than the others. Of course, there was no need to decide really.  We could enjoy them all and even take most home as Iron John's makes a point of bottling most of their beers, something that was lacking in virtually every other place we visited on this trip.  There was the Hey Momo, a slightly tart, almost sour peach wheat ale, a type of beer that I am seldom fond of.  In the hands of this master brewer, it was a nectar of the gods. Their pale ale, Old Pueblo, was satisfyingly thirst quenching with just a hint of hops on the finish. Then came their series of IPA, each one better than the one before.  My favorite, the Cisco, was a perfectly melded blend of Simcoe, Citra, and Amarillo hops, fermented with a European yeast, giving this one tremendous balance and an almost champagne fizziness to it as well as a distinct stone fruit quality. The follow up to this was their Imperial IPA called Pedro, a derangement of the Cisco at its feral and dirty best. And to end our fun here was a delightfully robust porter called Presta, which was an absolutely luscious finish to our tasting here.

We bought bottles, plenty of them, saving the final delight to enjoy with our pizza back at the hotel. Dubbed Anno Segundo, this Belgian style quadrupel was dessert in brew form, with caramel, brown sugar, dark fruit, rum raisin ice cream, and even smokey Islay Scotch Whiskey swirling in our mouths, a complex palate of flavors.  None of this surprised me when I learned that this one was actually aged in Scotch whiskey barrels before bottling, lending it a special quality that served as a fitting conclusion to our May booze cruise.

Pizza and craft beer, a perfect end to a wonderful journey. But there will be many more to come.  On July 1st, I leave for a massive, five week road trip through 12 states and one Canadian province, a journey that will be chronicled here. There will be brewpubs galore, some geocaching, meeting family & friends and hopefully finding a few new friends along the way, such as the home brewer I met at Iron John's on our last night out, a man who shares the same passion for beer than I do.  As we mutually follow each other now on Twitter, it reminds me of fact that there is so much out there to explore, so many journeys to take and craft beer encompasses that spirit of adventure.  To paraphrase Jack Maxwell, the Booze Traveler himself, after a few drinks with a stranger, the whole world opens up before your eyes and you experience their world, one glass at a time.

Stay tuned for more.  In future entries, I'll talk about the state of craft beer in El Paso and Las Cruces, I'll write about pub crawls through Santa Fe and Missoula, dive into the massive craft beer scene in the deeply bipolar world of Colorado Springs, explore the beer meccas of Denver, Portland and Seattle and find some hidden gems in some unlikely places like the Dakotas and small town Washington & British Columbia.  Watch for it; it's going to be quite a ride.

Here's to the Beer Chronicles, signing off.