The bartender tells me this is no longer a brewery, hasn’t been for three years, but it’s still listed in the brewer’s directory I got from North Coast. But I’m enjoying a “Six Rivers Sasquatch Strong Ale” which is dark and good. (p.s. I bypassed the Six Rivers brewery on the grounds that I would have just stopped to sample more beer, which would have been a little much at that point – but the ale was good).
The hot wings are hot, the beer is tasty (and cold), and the band is setting up, so I may be here for a little while. I was unable to find the phone number or address of my friend Rick Shull here in Arcate, but I can see how he’d like it here – lots of shiftless bums in the city square. The strong ale is strong, I’m realizing – but I’m not sure if it’s the one I tried yesterday at the brewery in Chico – not that much of a coincidence, I suppose, to have two tasty dark beers named after the Sasquatch (p.s. turns out the other one was “Bigfoot” – though remarkably similar!). Reminds me of camping with Ken and Todd, when Ken proclaimed that we’d drink enough Jagermeister to “see the stag” (but we only ended up seeing the yak).
I suppose I didn’t mention that yesterday in Chico we went for a dip in the creek in the park, and tried the sampler platters from both the Chico Brewery and the Sierra Nevada Brewery. The latter of which had a selection of about 14 beers, most of which tasted as they should, but not exceptionally great; the former of which both the bartender and the waitress said that thier favorite was the half-and-half of raspberrry ale and chocolate porter, which tasted to me like drinking a beer candy bar. But the IPA at the local place was a lot tastier, even though both tasted like an IPA; I guess my favorite was the Sasquatch (or was it Bigfoot?) which I don’t even recall the variety but I got a t-shirt. Lots of t-shirts I have, not sure when I will ever get a chance to wear them so maybe I’ll give them away at Burning Man.
Arcata appears to be hippie central, and I suppose after I finish this pint I’ll wander around here a little. Don’t want you (who don’t really know me – or who think they know me) to think I’m a beer lush; what I am is a beer snob, and I really do enjoy a good pint or two, though not a lot more than that. When I was growing up, my Dad liked Budweiser (the American version), so I thought that was what beer tasted like, hence I thought I didn’t like beer. Through college, my beverage of choice was wine coolers – Bartles and Jaymes (which now I believe is utterly undrinkable) and the favorite Matilda Bay (Australian accent: “Comes in a box, so it’s easy to pour!” – I also have a neon signn with lovely rasta colors). But after Ken and Todd returned from England they introduced me to stouts and porters, and perhaps my taste matured a bit, and I decided I sort of liked beer, though the darker the better (don’t trust a beer you can see through) – I tend to prefer stouts, porters, nut browns, and the like – Amber is marginal and India Pale Ale has “pale” in the name – though my very favorite lately is Dogfish Head (Maryland) Raison d’Etre – the 90- and 120-minute versions (I don’t know what that means) cost around $7 per small bottle but taste to me like drinking a fine wine. Apropos, the best wine I think I ever had was the (I think – maybe Amy can correct me) Neuschwanstein (p.s. no, wasn’t that, was Shloss something-or-other) from the Rhein river, where Amy and I stayed in a castle (at the top of a loooooong set of stairs) back before college; lately two buck chuck seems fine to me though I do like a nice Chianti.
Aside from the breweries, this morning I said goodbye to Felicia and headed out through Red Bluff, stopping for a haircut in olive country, also picked up some olives and pickled okra, and across the hot mountains. Thankfully it’s cooler (tho wetter) here at the coast, but I believe I’ll enjoy running up through Crescent City and along the Oregon coast (that was so depressing that it made Kurt Cobain kill himself, apparently) tomorrow. Picked up a book of hot springs though I don’t see any on my planned route, there are several in eastern Washington and Idaho that look inviting – and at the same time I’m thinking it’ll be interesting to approach Burning Man from the opposite direction this time.
Speaking of firsts – went through the first redwood groves today; was passed by my first logging truck two days ago; first dip in a cold mountain stream today (I’m not counting Chico which was nice but not exactly mountain stream-ish). Highway 36 across the coast range was small and windy, often down to an unstriped single lane down the mountain; my brakes got a bit hot and I stopped to let them rest and was reminded of the story of my Mom and the motorhome which I won’t repeat here.
Lots of disc golf discs above the bar here – I sense that there’s a course somewhere nearby – not only did I not bring my Frisbeetarian golf nets that I made for Burning Man last year, I don’t believe I brought a single disc to play with. Though once I move down towards San Diego I plan to take up the sport again.
I’ve only had two beers, but I guess that’s plenty for now, and the hot wings were devoured; I’m also having lots of water, since I didn’t drink that much in the car, and I’m trying to keep that up. The band is starting up, guitar and a banjo and a bass and a violin, should be somewhat entertaining. Suppose I’ll need to proofread this entry before I post.
(040813.0853 The Apple Peddler restaurant, Crescent City)
Compare and contrast: state-park campsites and roadside rest stops.
- Campsite: $15. Rest stop: $0.
- Campsite: may be filled up. Rest stop: might be filled up, but probably isn’t.
- Campsite: plenty of open space, picnic table, fire ring, relatively clean pit toilets. Rest stop: people parked right next to you, relatively filthy flush toilets.
- Campsite: very quiet, can hardly even tell neighbors are there. You feel almost as if everyone is whispering. Rest stop: people up talking all night, loudly – drunken arguments, slamming doors.
- Campsite: Noone close enough to complain about me snoring. Rest stop: too loud for people to care about me snoring.
Compare and contrast: bottom bunk vs top bunk.
- Bottom: about 5″ thick cushion. Top: about 3″ thin cushion.
- Bottom: enough cushion to sleep on my side. Top: not enough cushion to sleep on my side, quite.
- Bottom: have to move all my stuff. Top: just need to move blanked and sleeping bag.
- Bottom: have to close all the curtains. Top: only closed a curtain or two.
- Bottom: view of the inside of the curtains. Top: nice view outside, if it’s warm enough for the zippered windows to be open.
- Bottom: almost long enough to sleep straight. Top: not quite long enough to sleep straight.
Took a walk on Redwood Creek state beach this morning; meant to stop at Agate beach, but I wasn’t really awake enough to figure out where it was, and I’m not sure what agates look like or if you’re really supposed to be picking them up off the state beach.