Randall on steroids?

Here are views of Otto's "Randall on steroids," as equipped and pumping during Schlafly's recent end-of-Prohibition bash at the Bottleworks in St. Louis. Note that the IPA in the fermenter was already being dry hopped before passing through a second helping of the magic cone.

Susan Haberer and the brewing technician himself. Bravo!

A few St. Louis/Schlafly views from April 11-13.

Jared and Jesse visit with the inimitable Stephen Hale.


The Publican has a beer with Susan Haberer, who works hard at keeping Dan Kopman in line.


The local crazies gather in 35-degree weather to celebrate the anniversary of Prohibition's demise.


Jared and John discuss progress at the merchandise table.


Tom Schlafly (center) wore a vintage St. Louis Brown cap to the proceedings, and I admire that.


Some people partied a bit too hardy, but a fleet of taxis was nearby.

That weekend seminar at Schlafly.

Oddly, the thing I'll remember most about our recent (April 11-13) visit to St. Louis was whitecaps on corn and soybean fields.

In short, I'd completely forgotten how many lakes there are just across the Indiana border in Illinois … except that they aren't lakes at all. They're temporarily flooded fields. Driving straight into the weather, with the wind blowing hard to the east, waves of surfer dimension could be seen rippling beneath the grain silos.

Speaking of grain, the occasion for the trip was the Schlafly craft brewery's annual "Repeal of Prohibition" party, held outside in the parking lot of the Schlafly Bottleworks in Maplewood, a St. Louis neighborhood. In biting 35-degree weather, 1,200 people showed up to sample the 30-odd beers and drink away the afternoon. Perhaps a dozen of the male revelers wore kilts. Countless kegs from the hosts and four visiting "guests of honor" Indiana breweries were floated. All in all, it was a wonderful time and a first-class performance by Schlafly.

Before and after the event itself, we were able to tour both of Schlafly's facilities and take notes. Of special significance to me was the chance to meet founder Tom Schlafly. We talked about beer only briefly before going into baseball; in fact, he was wearing a replica St. Louis Browns cap on Saturday, which I thought was suitably oblique (note that the Browns moved from St. Louis to Baltimore in 1954 or thereabouts, and became the Orioles).

My biggest insight?

At the end of the day, Schlafly isn't all that different from my own NABC other than being far larger. Its size came about over a long period of time. Schlafly may appear to be a sleek corporate machine, but it most decidedly is not that simple, because just like at NABC, a handful of owners/lifers and a cadre of efficient team members combine to do more work than they should and keep the train rolling.

That's what happens when you decide to do it yourself, and the frustrations are many. Knowing that being in business for yourself has rendered you unemployable elsewhere … priceless.

The Publican's Pacific Northwest Brew Pub Tour, May 6 – 14, 2008.

As many of you already know, I’ve put together a Pacific Northwest brew tour package for May and am now accepting reservations. We have a limit of 25, with ten signed on as of today.

Dates:
Leaving Louisville May 6, returning May 14.

Airfare:
NOT included; Bliss Travel (New Albany) is working on a group package, and you're free to determine your own so long as I know the itinerary, you can find the group once there, and return arrangements fit the schedule.

Final pricing:
$1,875 per person double occupancy, and $2,275 per person single occupancy. This includes transfers, all motorcoach, brewery tours, breakfasts, a few evening meals, museum, ballgame admissions and all lodging.

Please do me a favor and pass this along to interested parties. My e-mail address is istanbul85(at)yahoo.com, and our local tour operator is Tony Minden, owner of OregonWest Excursions.

Portland OR
Embassy Suites (Downtown)
BridgePort Brewing
McMenamins Cosmic Bus Tour (McMenamins Edgefield, Kennedy School, Crystal Ballroom)
Rogue Ales in Portland
Crown Point State Scenic Corridor
Multnomah Falls
Full Sail Brewing
Hood River Fruit Loop
Timberline Lodge

Tacoma WA
Harmon’s Brewery & Restaurant
Museum of Glass

Seattle WA
Silver Cloud Hotel
Hale’s Ales Brewery & Pub
Pike Pub & Brewery
Pyramid Alehouse, Brewery & Restaurants
Safeco Field tour and Mariners vs. White Sox

Astoria OR
Comfort Suites Columbia River
Wet Dog Cafe & Astoria Brewing Company
Fort George Brewery + Public House
Columbia River Maritime Museum
Seafood School

Newport OR
Elizabeth Street Inn
Rogue Ales
Rogue Ales Public House
Marine Discovery Tours
Rogue Brewer’s on the Bay
Oregon Coast Aquarium

Love that goat.

Life's good in Bamberg, because in Franconia, this is the time for seasonal bocks. Time was short, but excellent selections were sampled at Spezial (above), Schlenkerla (smoked) and Klosterbrau (Helles).

The less I tell you about Bierhaxe at Klosterbrau the better. You'd just get all envious.

Closer to home, I hope to have the updated Saturnalia lineup here on Wednesday morning. Then there'll be other stories to tell in the coming days.

Pacific Northwest Brew Tour, May 6 – 14, 2008.

I've forwarded the following to those on the mailing list. If you're interested, please let me know (use the e-mail address at my blogger profile page).

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Note that everything following is tentative. Our local tour operator is Tony Minden, owner of OregonWest Excursions. Tony submitted a plan to me, and I have edited his work and made a few changes, which he’ll be examining for accuracy. The edited version, minus exact timings, is here. I believe the information below to be substantially correct at this time. Assuming Tony agrees, we’ll begin the process of determining the price.

Note also that the group’s airfare is still being researched by Mary Pat Bliss of Bliss Travel in New Albany, but that you retain the option of arranging your own flights subject to land transportation constraints and my required foreknowledge. At this time, we believe the roundtrip fare to be in the range of $550, but of course this might change.

Some form of breakfast is included at each stop.

Tuesday, May 6th

We will depart Louisville for Portland, and depending on the final flight plan, the itinerary may change. Airport transfer; arrive in Portland. Read: New York Times on beer in Portland. We’ll be staying at the Embassy Suites (Downtown). There’ll be a tour, tasting and meal at BridgePort Brewing, Oregon’s oldest craft brewery (founded 1984).

Wednesday, May 7th

Private charter aboard the Portland Ducks Tour’s Hydra Terra amphibious vehicle for a half bus/half boat city tour with guide that travels city streets and the Willamette River alike. We’ll tour Portland’s waterfront and ship yard, and then end up at Widmer Brothers Brewing for a taste, followed by a free afternoon in downtown Portland to rest, relax and enjoy the city. Later, there’ll be a McMenamins Cosmic Bus Tour (visits to a selection of McMenamins' historic properties (i.e., McMenamins Edgefield, the Kennedy School, and the Crystal Ballroom) and appetizers, handcrafted ales, wines and spirits. We’re leaving the evening open pending a chance to socialize with Phil “Biscuit” Timperman. Phil currently works for Rogue Ales in Portland, and formerly was employed by Hair of the Dog and the Horse Brass Pub.

Thursday, May 8th

Morning departure for a drive through the gorgeous scenery of the Crown Point State Scenic Corridor, followed by a stop at Multnomah Falls, the second highest water fall in the United States. Lunch and beers will be at Walking Man Brewing in Stevenson. After lunch we’ll travel the "Hood River Fruit Loop," coming eventually to the landmark Timberline Lodge (where Jack Nicholson’s “The Shining” was filmed). During this time we will try to meet with Charles Porter, formerly the brewery at Bloomington Brewing Co. and Upland in Bloomington, Indiana. Charles now lives in Hood River and works for Full Sail Brewing. There might be a vineyard tour as well. Afterwards, an open final evening in Portland.

Friday, May 9th

Depart Portland for Seattle. Stop in Tacoma at Harmon’s Brewery & Restaurant for a tour, tasting and lunch, then free time in Tacoma. Near Harmon’s: The Museum of Glass, including work by the world famous Dale Chihuly; artists at work in the Hot Shop; bridge of glass; and the restored Union Station. In Seattle, we’re staying at the Silver Cloud Hotel. A monorail/tram to and from downtown is being built, and it may be operational by the time of our visit. The hotel also offers local shuttles. We are hoping to arrange an evening visit, tasting and dinner at Hale’s Ales Brewery & Pub.

Saturday, May 10th

A brief city tour of the highlights will be followed by morning free time. Circa 1:00 p.m., we meet at the Pike Pub & Brewery for lunch and a beer pairing. Next is a tour of Safeco Field, home of the Seattle Mariners and a pre-game tour and tasting at the Pyramid Alehouse, Brewery & Restaurants. At 7:00 p.m., Mariners vs. White Sox, sushi (Ichi-Roll) and IPA, then back to the hotel after the game. Note that the Safeco Field tour and game timings are contingent on the 2008 schedule, which thus far is tentative.

Sunday, May 11th

Depart for Astoria, Oregon, on the northernmost tip of the Oregon coast. The hotel is Comfort Suites Columbia River. Lunch is on your own in Astoria, which boasts a great downtown to wander, with unique shops, restaurants and pubs, among them the Wet Dog Cafe & Astoria Brewing Company (formerly Pacific Rim Brewing) and Fort George Brewery + Public House. We’ll visit the Columbia River Maritime Museum in the afternoon, then attend Seafood School for demonstrations, seafood, and a beer-themed presentation from Chef Eric Jenkins.

Monday, May 12th

Depart Astoria for Newport. This is about a 3-hour drive, and quite spectacular. We’ll allow an hour and a half for stops along the way, including Cannon Beach or Seaside. Arrive in Newport circa 1:00 p.m. The small, succulent Yaquina Bay oyster made Newport famous, and the town is a popular destination for seafood lovers, but we know it better as the home of Rogue Ales. Lunch at your own pace along the Historic Bayfront, location of Rogue Ales Public House and Local Ocean Seafoods. Rooms at the Elizabeth Street Inn. Monday evening is free to roam. There is the possibility of a program and session at the Rogue Ales Public House.

Tuesday, May 13th

We’re hoping to book a morning excursion with Marine Discovery Tours. Lunch is at Brewer’s on the Bay, Rogue’s restaurant inside its microbrewery complex, which is located on the south side of the bay (you can see the Public House across the way), followed by a Rogue brewery tour. Next, a visit to the nearby Oregon Coast Aquarium, then regrouping at the hotel. Dinner at the Hallmark Inn in the group’s own private dining room overlooking the ocean. Finally, weather permitting, the Elizabeth Street Inn will put on a bonfire on the beach, including smores and plenty of Rogue ales.

Wednesday, May 14th

Pending confirmation of the flight time, this day remains unplanned. It is 2.5 hours travel time to Portland and 1.5 hours check in time at the airport. This might require an early wake-up …

Weekend musing.

My first trip to Europe came in 1985, and for 15 years afterward, the bicycle was conspicuously absent as a preferred mode of transportation while visiting the continent.

This changed in 2000, and since then, it’s hard to imagine being in Europe and not riding a bike for at least some portion of the time. The notions of biking across the countryside and drinking great beer while doing it have become almost inseparable, and it becomes increasingly difficult to consider one without the other.

It’s been a year since the last trip, and it will be a year until the next one. In the interim, much of the beercycling I do will have to be local, and that’s a better prospect than ever before given the proximity of downtown New Albany establishments offering good beer.

The problem with beercycling in this fashion is that I must be forced to take the long ride first, instead of cycling less than a mile from my house and commencing happy hour without the rationale of it being a restorative.

The other problems in 2007 have been the necessity of rotator cuff repair surgery, a very good business year that has required more work hours than expected, a steadily escalating ambition to expand the business, and my continued involvement in civic affairs. My wife Diana has been working and attending graduate school simultaneously, and in some ways, it feels like I’ve been doing the same.

Biking time has lagged accordingly, although I’m still trying to use the bike as a means of commuting whenever possible. But, there’s plenty of time to prepare for the anticipated fall adventure in 2008, when we’ll be attending the triennial hop festival in Poperinge. Belgium. We hope this will be convergence in two columns, by bike and vehicle, and it has already become the most challenging logistical puzzle that I’ve attempted to solve during the course of my travels.

Getting from Budapest to Moscow in 1987 as an independent rail traveler seeking a student-priced ducat was a piece of cake compared to this, but when it comes right down to it, I’m stubborn that way, and it’ll work out in the end.

Once the journey is underway, it will become transformed as it always does, into a time to be remembered and cherished. I’ve been exceedingly fortunate, and tremendous travel memories abound. We need to make some more. I’ll keep you posted.

Real planning now underway for PacNW beer and brewery tour, 2008.

My method of trip planning follows a sloppy but reasonably consistent logic.

It begins with hours of informal discussion with friends and cohorts, followed by a vague announcement, and then much fevered activity to actually pull the strands together.

The discussion period has largely passed, although there remains much time to refine the concept, and now we're somewhere just past the vague announcement and entering the active phase of planning for the May (or thereabouts) brewery and incidental culture motor coach tour of the Pacific Northwest in 2008.

Negotiations are ongoing with the travel company that I believe will be the choice to organize this trip with me. I’m also receiving itinerary advice from the Portland tourism bureau, so there’s no shortage of good information.

It is my aim to cap this one at 25 (approximately) people, although it may be possible to squeeze a few more into the group.

Currently the itinerary would include time in Portland and Seattle; a Rogue brewery visit (Newport); touring of the Columbia River gorge; Astoria and perhaps Bend (both in Oregon); a smattering of historical sites, a vineyard; and hopefully a baseball game in Seattle. Naturally, all possible breweries in and near these places will be investigated and many of them toured and visited.

Duration is slated for 10 days, flying from Louisville to Portland and back. Precise air arrangements will come a bit later, after I’ve had the chance to converse with Bliss Travel for ideas. The exact dates may well have to wait until later this fall owing to the contingencies of the baseball schedule for 2008.

I realize that price is a crucial factor, but so far, it isn’t something that can yet be predicted with confidence.

Readers, for now, know that the show is likely to go on. Please let me know immediately if you are interested; you’ll be added to the mailing list, and I’ll continue with the scheming. Use the e-mail address listed at my Blogger profile page.

Brewery and beer suggesions are welcomed, and they'll certainly make me thirsty.

Mathaser, Munich and the summer of '87 with the lads.

These are holy days in the pantheon of the Curmudgeon’s beer travels, for it was on July 16, 17 and 18, 1987, that I was joined in Munich by Bob Gunn, Barrie Ottersbach and my cousin Don Barry for three nights of Bavarian bacchanalia.

The stories have been suitably embellished over the decades. There was my episode of disgruntlement at having to leave a beer hall at an hour I considered to be far too early, and a stern worker’s gentle suggestion to take the argument elsewhere. There was Don’s rising from the bench to tell us that he’d had enough and was returning to his hotel … except that his lips never moved and no sound was emitted in spite of his recollections of prime oratory. There were liter steins of beer, various and sundry sausages, Deutschmarks and Pfennigs, aspects of unfathomable etiquette that became second nature before the last glass was poured, and a constant flow of conversation, information and education.

To me, it remains remarkable that we coordinated our arrivals so well. While making plans to meet friends in Munich in order to partake of the city’s bountiful beer and pig flesh wasn’t such an unprecedented feat, and we’ve managed to do it many times since, considering the circumstances at the time and our relative inexperience traveling, the manner by which our scheme came to fruition still elicits a smile.

Knowing that we all would be in Europe during the summer of 1987, detailed planning began over the Christmas holidays in 1986. Barrie and I had booked a two-week tour of the Soviet Union and proposed to approach Munich by rail from Prague. Bob, who was on his first trip to the continent, and Don, who had been many times, had devised detailed itineraries, and both would be arriving in Munich on the same day, but from different directions. As was his habit, Don booked a single room at a favorite haunt, while the rest of us made reservations together in a triple at another hotel somewhat near the Munich train station.

We knew what day to be there and where we’d be staying, and yet in those far-off and primitive times, lacking e-mail and mobile phones, and with each member of the quartet having been traveling for quite some time before the projected Munich gathering, a considerable element of uncertainty was palpable. In essence, could we remain sufficiently sober, avoid unexpected transportation delays, and show up on time, and where we were supposed to be?

Happily, it went off without a hitch. Barrie and I arrived at the Hauptbahnhof and found Don idling with beer in hand at the fabled Track 16 Imbiss, and after enjoying a few Pschorrbraus and portions of Leberkase, we ran into Bob at the hotel.

Admittedly, iad I known then what I know now, we’d have avoided Munich entirely and gone instead to Bamberg, but given our remedial state of beer knowledge, it’s likely that the choice of Munich was all for the best. We might not have fully grasped Rauchbier and Kellerbier.

The city’s brewery consolidations had already started to diminish historical distinctions, although international corporate investors had yet to appear as they have in recent years. The future could be glimpsed, but at the same time old ways seemed to persist, and these traditions can be pleasing so long as it is remembered that much of what Americans know about Germany actually pertains to Bavaria, and much of what they know about Bavaria actually applies to Munich alone.

For example, “beer halls” in the sense of the Hofbrauhaus do not exist in matching scale outside the city. In 1987, a beer hall larger than the Hofbrauhaus was our home away from home for two glorious evenings: Mathaser Bierstadt, which was tied to Lowenbrau. It was cavernous, filled with nooks and byways and various banquet rooms and snugs, and decidedly grittier than the Hofbrauhaus – no less attractive for tourists, but rowdy and with an earthier composition of native barfly.

These many years later, what I’ve taken away from three Munich nights in July isn’t capable of being detailed. That I experienced it with wide eyes and a sense of wonderment cannot be doubted. For a beer- and history-loving Hoosier just shy of his 27th birthday, roaming Europe for the second time, Munich was the epitome. It was Disneyland with ubiquitous mugs of foamy lager and all the sauerkraut and potatoes one cared to eat.

Unfortunately, the Mathaser perished, and the site is now an ultra-modern cinema and entertainment complex. The last time I was there was in 1995, and even then the beer hall seemed exhausted. Dubbed American movies probably are showing now, and outside, you’ll see imported Miller and Corona throughout the city. The old brands aren’t the same, at least to me. Oktoberfests have become golden, and all beer tastes steadily colder on each trip. There is a Hofbrauhaus franchise in Newport, Kentucky.

Fond memories, indeed, and now increasingly balanced by melancholy.

Update: Beer hunting by motor coach in the Pacific Northwest, May, 2008.

After mulling on the topic for some months and inviting suggestions, planning has started in earnest for the May, 2008 group excursion to the Pacific Northwest. As with the initial period of research for previous excursions to Europe (there have been five since 1998), goals continue to shift as information is processed, but the broad strategy remains the same.

I've been in contact with an Oregon travel company as well as the travel planning division of the Portland tourist bureau, and the people I've spoken with in both places have expressed enthusiasm at the beer emphasis of the trip.

Recalling that it is perfectly acceptable to make your own flying arrangements subject to advance notice, the group will depart Louisville on a still yet to be determined date in May (following the Kentucky Derby, which runs on Saturday, May 3, 2008) and will fly to Portland, Oregon, where a chartered motor coach will be waiting. Roughly ten days of regional tourism will follow, with a heavy accent on indigenous microbrewing culture.

Consider this short list of possibilities:

Portland, Oregon
Hood River valley and Mt. Hood
Astoria, Oregon
Rogue Nation (i.e., the home of Rogue Ales) in Newport, Oregon
Crater Lake National Park
Seattle, Washington
A Mariners game at Safeco Field in Seattle, with microbrews and sushi (Ichi Roll!)
Olympic peninsula
Mount Rainier

Note that there would not be time for all of these, but that there would be one or more breweries and brewpubs in or near most of them. I’d like to have a nice balance between bigger and smaller cities, moving around and staying put, and organizing brewery tours while allowing for ample free time in the places we visit for non-yeast-culture activities like museum visits, walking and enjoying the scenery.

As much as I’d like to include Northern California, and after long deliberation, it is almost certainly out of the itinerary picture. One look at a map will tell you why. The prime beer-related places (North Coast in Ft. Bragg, Anderson Valley) are much closer to the Bay Area than Portland. It would require devoting premium time to commuting, and in the end, the numerous breweries and wineries in that part of California deserve their own journey at some point in the future. Too much time on a motorcoach is something we’d like to avoid. There is too much fresh air, not to mention fresh beer, waiting.

As of this time, I’m interested in knowing who may be “in” for this May trip in 2008. There are no financial obligations. Write to the e-mail address in my blog profile, or leave word at the pub. Also, suggestions continue to be appreciated.If you're new to this, know that my aim after organizing and arranging the trip is to pay my own way with a percentage of the proceeds above raw cost, which is all safely above board and conducted through my side venture, Potable Curmudgeon, Inc.

References from past travelers are available upon request. I hope to see many readers next year.

Belgian beercycling 2000: Belgian beercycling 2000: The final beercycle ride, and postscripts.

Kevin Richards, Bob Reed, Buddy Sandbach, Kevin Lowber and Roger Baylor somehow survived the rampant hospitality at Huyghe, maker of Delirium Tremens, and on Friday set off on a final ride before the 2000 beercycling trip drew to a close.

8. Belgian beercycling 2000: Brugge and the DTs.

7. Belgian beercycling 2000: A pause for perspective before the tour concludes.

6. Belgian beercycling 2000: Poperinge and Cassel.

5. Belgian beercycling 2000: An evening at Cave a Biere, Danes included.

4. Belgian beercycling 2000: Brewing day with Jean-Louis at Brasserie A Vapeur.

3. Belgian beercycling 2000: Tournai warm-up, Cave a Bieres and Pays du Collines.

2. Belgian beercycling 2000: From Brussels to the Tournai base camp in less than 15 drinks.

1. Belgian beercycling 2000: A prologue.

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It was the year 2000, the anticipated Euro currency conversion was around the corner but had yet to occur, and for a final day of rental beercycling on a sunny Friday in Brugge, we chose to spend a few spare guilders in the Netherlands.

At first glance, it may seem that the Netherlands is too far away form the Belgium to make for a comfortable day trip, and in fact much of it is, but a non-contiguous slice of Dutch territory lies on the south side of the waterway known as the Westerschelde, or the mouth of the Schelde River as it leaves Antwerp for the ocean. This bit of the Netherlands is easily accessible by bicycle paths aimed east and north from Brugge, passing through the popular tourist village of Damme, along idyllic tree lined canals and through manure-caked working farms reminiscent of Breughel paintings.

Certainly it was the easiest of the trip’s rides, both because we’d developed legs (and posteriors) strong enough to navigate for longer periods of time, and owing to the perfectly flat nature of the terrain in the northernmost extent of Flanders. Hills and grades are almost non-existent, and the route is strewn with signs and so impeccably marked that we briefly became lost, anyway, perhaps stemming from the biggest impediment to progress during the ride: Too much DT on the Huyghe brewery tour the previous day, and too many post-tour restoratives at the famed t’Brugs Beertje specialty beer café upon our Thursday evening return to Brugge.

At a particularly confusing crossroads, a tractor-borne native pointed straight, and within minutes we were standing outside a café in the Dutch town of Sluis, and I was extracting a handful of colorful leftover guilders from a previous visit to the Netherlands in 1998 in preparation for the best we could do under the circumstances, a round of Heinekens and nibbles for all.

Since the food included herring, my day was complete.

After lunch, the ride continued to the northwest. For all of us, it was a first opportunity to experience the fabled infrastructure available to cyclists in the Netherlands. Paved paths follow alongside all roads, and clearly delineated lanes guide cyclists through urban areas. Sometimes there are intersections for cyclists that shadow the automotive ones yards away, and complete with their own sets of stop lights.

Soon we were back in Belgium, skirting just south of Knokke-Heist on the coast, and coming to the second objective: The sea and a convenient beach at Zeebrugge for a few minutes of sand and sea spray before turning due south along an industrialized canal for the ride back into Brugge and a second consecutive evening at the Beertje.

There would be a third, at the end of the full Saturday remaining to us, but the shared consensus was that the first-time visitors in the group were intent on sightseeing and shopping in the lovely if tourist-laden city of Brugge, so the rental bikes were returned and the cycling segment of the 2000 beercycling fact-finding mission concluded.

Except for Kevin Lowber, who had met us in Poperinge, the group had put in roughly 125 miles altogether, with perhaps half of that coming in two rides (Cassel and Sluis) near the end. In the touring years to come, there would be times when several of us approached 100 miles in a day, fully laden, but given our neophyte status in 2000, the inconsistent architecture of the rental bikes and the demands of food and drink, there was much to celebrate.

The journey was winding down. On Sunday morning, Kevin Richards, Buddy Sandbach and I boarded a train in Brugge and set out for Leuven, an old university city on the eastern side of Brussels that lies near the national airport where Kevin and Buddy would be departing Belgium for America on Monday morning. We’d booked a room in Leuven with the prospect of arriving and hopefully having enough time to attend a performance by the rock band Pearl Jam at the Werchter pop/rock festival taking place nearby, but Eddie Vedder’s group had canceled owing to tragic occurrences at another fest in Roskilde, Denmark a few days previous. Instead of concert-going, it looked instead to be a relaxed, “free” last day.

The commute from Brugge to Leuven hardly would have been noteworthy had not Buddy’s eyes (and wallet) been somewhat bigger than his luggage. He spent the afternoon and evening in Brugge frantically scrounging rare Belgian ales from various sales outlets, and broke away resolutely early from the closing ceremonies at Beertje to return to the hotel and find some way of packing them all.

There we revelers found him well after midnight, with bottles, toiletries and underwear heaped down the side of corridor, agonizing over the proper way to insure the safety of his souvenirs while flying home. Luckily, he managed to succeed in this aim, removing only a handful of bottles for ballast-lightening consumption in the process. Less fortunately, there were too few hours for sleeping, and as he realized come morning, a stupendous weight gain in baggage. It should suffice to say that splurging on a cab ride to the train station was much appreciated.

Still, even spared the burden of a cross-town walk, Buddy had three separate pieces of quite heavy luggage, and upon exiting the train in Leuven, he was not happy to discover that the station there is of archaic design, requiring the ascent of numerous steps to reach a passageway crossing over the tracks, not beneath them as is the case most of the time. With the assistance of two passers-by who evidently took pity at Buddy’s plight (or were eager to move him out of the way so they’d reach their train on time), he made it up, down, and over, collapsing into a waiting taxi for the ride to the hotel. Checked in, and with his larder thus preserved, he fell into a deep, evening long sleep.

Unable to wake him, Kevin and I explored Leuven, visited its brewpub, noted the presence of the industrial Stella Artois beer factory, mounted a hill for a look at the chateau originally belonging to Leuven’s local aristocrats, and eventually settled into handy café chairs to recap the first beercycling trip with a few final rounds of Belgian ale.

Verily, the beercycling cat had been let out of the bag, the touring genie released from the bottle, and a suitable tone set for future adventures. We’d hatched our Belgian scheme while seated at Polly’s Freeze, a local ice cream institution back in Indiana, and now, after achieving the goal, we were able to offer benedictions over Chimay and beefsteak in Leuven.

It only seemed natural to echo Bob Reed’s tip-off toast:

“Here’s to us … may we never quarrel or fuss … but if by chance we should disagree … &*^%$ you, and here’s to me!

Belgian beercycling 2000: Brugge and the DTs.

At the conclusion of the last installment, the biking beer hunters – Kevin Richards, Bob Reed, Buddy Sandbach, Kevin Lowber and Roger Baylor – had completed the second leg of their biking and beer tour of Belgium, Poperinge and environs, and were moving on to Brugge, the final stop.

7. Belgian beercycling 2000: A pause for perspective before the tour concludes.

6. Belgian beercycling 2000: Poperinge and Cassel.

5. Belgian beercycling 2000: An evening at Cave a Biere, Danes included.

4. Belgian beercycling 2000: Brewing day with Jean-Louis at Brasserie A Vapeur.

3. Belgian beercycling 2000: Tournai warm-up, Cave a Bieres and Pays du Collines.

2. Belgian beercycling 2000: From Brussels to the Tournai base camp in less than 15 drinks.

1. Belgian beercycling 2000: A prologue.

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Thursday was a transfer day, and the objective to be pursued – but only after a tasty Hotel Palace buffet breakfast of bread, butter, jam, selected cheeses and meats, and an egg – was to convey the expanded group of five beercyclists by rail from Poperinge to the junction at Kortrijk, then north to Brugge. Departing the historic Belgian hop-growing town of Poperinge wasn’t easy. We took with us a full complement of ideas for future trips, many of which have come quite delightfully to fruition in the years since.

After debarking in Brugge, we executed a forced march to set up headquarters at the Hotel Europ, and then immediately doubled back to the train station for a short train trip to Ghent, specifically to the suburb of Melle, home of the Huyghe brewery. Along the way, there was a reconnoitering of the bicycle rental shop near the main square.

The excursion to Melle meant that biking would have to wait until Friday, as the genial Joe Waizmann, then of the Merchant du Vin importing company, had helpfully arranged for a Thursday afternoon tour of Huyghe, a family-owned brewer of more than a few brands of ale, including Merchant du Vin’s Duinen abbey ales and the more widely known Delirium Tremens family of strong elixirs.

As customary, I’d taken Joe’s information and initiated a dialogue with the target brewery, exchanging a couple of faxes with the Huyghe company’s contact, Alain, and fixing a tour time for 2:00 p.m. on Thursday.

At least that’s what we thought as the train departed Brugge. Unbeknownst to the group, a very long afternoon was only just beginning.

Our train ride from Brugge was brief and uneventful. There was a switch in the Ghent main station, and soon we were stepping off the small commuter platform at Melle, where precious little was observed to be occurring in the immediate vicinity. The town bore the unmistakable appearance of a one-time countryside village that had undergone industrialization in the 19th-century thanks to the proximity of waterways and railroads.

The fax I had received from Alain while still stateside clearly indicated that someone from Huyghe would meet us at the station to provide escort, but no one arrived, and after a half-hour’s wait filled with escalating fears that we’d miss the appointment, we resolved to take control and find the brewery on our own.

This wasn’t very difficult. Older breweries anywhere almost always lie next to the train tracks, and this is the case with Huyghe. Furthermore, the brewery’s street address is Brusselsesteenweg, or the main road in the general direction of Belgium’s capital. This central road could be seen a short block away, and after lining up street numbers, we followed it.

The address being sought was affixed to an older building with no obvious entryway. Newer additions extended around a corner, so we followed the trail and eventually looked up to see a huge pink elephant emblazoned on a wall, and yet still no entrance beckoned. After knocking on several doors, one opened and a young man smilingly pointed us to the rear of the building, where activity was humming. Pallets of kegs and bottles were being shifted by forklifts into waiting trucks and workers were going about their tasks, all alongside the freight rail track that now could be glimpsed running alongside the passenger track and leading directly toward the platform where we’d started.

We wandered into the area and were quickly intercepted by a man in a suit, who directed us through the warehouse to a second-floor office. Ominously, the receptionist was visibly confused at our presence. Phone calls of escalating intensity were made as we stood in a cramped foyer, killing time and ducking passers-by.

It was far past lunch, and I ate a final apple for strength as more time passed. We were given several reassurances that Alain had been paged and was expected at any moment. Finally a young man appeared, introduced himself as Alain, and noted that we had come on the wrong day. I asked him to look at the fax a bit more closely, and he went into his office seemingly unconvinced. When he returned, his face was beet red, and apologizing profusely (and unnecessarily; after all, mistakes happen), he led us into the brewery for the belated tour.

Given the misunderstandings and delays, we expected very little beyond a cursory look at the brewery and perhaps a couple of beers, but in fact a veritable tour de force already was picking up steam. It proved yet again that when beer lovers of like mind get together, anything can happen, and the passion generated by such meetings is unlike anything experienced by the dire corporate bean-counters of the world of swill.

Alain began by explaining that like many Belgian breweries of like size, family-owned Huyghe was stagnating in the 1970’s, producing ordinary pilsners for local consumption, seeing its traditional market for these beers shrink along with the demand for low-gravity table beers, and suffering from increased competition from larger, better heeled breweries. In short, Huyghe faced a questionable future when Alain’s father concluded that something had to be done. His answer to the problem was to specialize, creating ales more in keeping with Belgium’s diverse brewing heritage.

This strategy was bold and somewhat risky given the realities of the day. Belgium’s subsequent rise to international fame for the quality of its beers was foreseen by few, and Alain’s father faced resistance from other family members afraid of change. He responded by shrugging and buying them out, proceeding with the development of the flagship ale that would redeem the brewery’s fortunes: Delirium Tremens, which was given its name after a visitor remarked that he couldn’t drink more than two without risking the “D.T.’s” next morning.

Having perfected the recipe, the next step toward sales success involved coming up with a symbol, and the now-familiar pink elephant logo was drawn by a summer brewery intern for a couple cases of liquid remuneration. A quarter century later, it is one of Belgium’s most immediately recognizable beer labels.

While comparisons with Duvel are inevitable, and other strong golden ales from Belgium (Lucifer, Satan) vie for attention with the consumer, Delirium Tremens remains its own beer. It is decidedly sleek and clean, boasting a deceptive, medium body that allows hints of alcohol to peek through and remind the drinker of its strength. While Delirium Tremens may look like Budweiser, it certainly doesn’t taste like it.

The Delirium Tremens line has been extended to include Nocturnum, a dark version of the flagship brand, and for the very first time in the year 2000, Noel. Huyghe’s yuletide interpretation lies somewhere between the other two. There are no spices. The result is a firm, tawny and accomplished strong ale for winter sipping. As we walked through the brewery, and Alain animatedly explained the family business, he asked if we’d like to try the Noel – as it turned out, straight from the bright tank, as served by Alain himself into fresh DT logo glasses while he tottered on a ladder to reach the valve.

In one of the oldest parts of the original brewhouse, which has been replaced by a more modern facility in the newer wing, Huyghe has installed an excellent beer and brewing exhibit. The mini-museum includes a replica of a traditional Belgian café, complete with archaic cash register and bar games. Nearby are cases displaying glassware and historical advertising placards. After examining these, we gratefully adjourned to the contemporary, half-circle bar for our obligatory post-tour tasting.

At this juncture, with biking far from our minds and beers about to be poured, it’s worth noting that Huyghe is criticized in some quarters for releasing so many beers, which some doubters suspect are the same basic recipe with a different label attached. Alain bristles at this charge, particularly as offered by CAMRA correspondent Tim Webb, author of the massively influential “Good Beer Guide to Belgium,” and forcefully argues that with the exception of a couple of beers bound for export sales bearing export labels, all beers made at Huyghe have distinct recipes.

Perhaps for this reason, and to give us the chance to judge for ourselves, we were given the opportunity to taste seemingly every single brand brewed at Huyghe: St. Idelsbald Blonde, Bruin and Tripel, Campus, Golden Kenia (the pilsner mentioned previously), Vielle Villers Dubbel and Tripel, a few new fruit-flavored ales, and eventually a bottle of Artvelde Grand Cru that had been cellared since 1988.

Only a few of the latter remained, but Alain excitedly opened one for us, and the vintage ale was so delicious that soon Alain was on the phone calling the brewers to come up to the bar and taste it for themselves.

A dense thicket of glasses and empty bottles grew atop the bar, and then Alain proposed a toast, which I must paraphrase owing to my own bibulous role in the proceedings: To all the beer-loving Americans who have done so much to support the Belgian brewing industry, the ones who know quality, who appreciate the best, and who share in the universal love of beer.

It was a classy gesture and a memorable moment. Equally moving was Bob Reed’s impromptu assessment of the Huyghe brewery visit: “A guy can get fucked up in a place like this.”

Indeed, he can. We did. Our visit finally winding down after almost three hours inside the brewery, Alain proposed to drive us to the rail station, which was no more than a quarter-mile away, and seeing as he’d had just as many beers as us, it simply didn’t seem necessary or prudent. We thanked him and gathered our generous gifts -- t-shirts, pink elephant suspenders and DT glasses -- and stumbled into the late Melle afternoon, the sky now clear after rain and mist earlier. Heading down the narrow alley next to the rail line, I imagined food above all else; the weight of the ale was heavy on an empty stomach, and I recalled there being an eatery or two opposite the station.

Suddenly, somewhere to the rear, the approaching hum of a car was heard. I heard Alain’s voice. Screeching to a halt, he emerged with stacks of coasters, which Bob had requested earlier, and in the process, cementing his reputation as the perfect host for one of the best brewery tours I’ve experienced.

Beer was momentarily forgotten as the neighborhood “friterie” came into view. “Friterie” translates into fast food, Belgian style, and you must forget everything you’ve heard about carbonade, mussels and other gems of indigenous beer cuisine. As in so many other locales, Belgian fast food is the domain of the deep fryer, and not just for preparing the country’s famed french fries (parboiled before deep frying, and served with mayonnaise or one of several sauces).

In fact, most anything else that will fit into a Euro-standard fry basket, presumably including salad, tofu or whatever healthy food that might benefit from a high-temperature lard bath, can be found at the Friterie. Famished and intoxicated, behaving not unlike the early morning crowd at White Castle, we crowded into the mom ‘n’ pop operation. The former took the order after our language-challenged group took turns pointing to the object behind the counter, and the latter expertly deep-frying the choice while Mama made change.

Thus we cornered the market on saturated fat, our containers dripping with grease from wonderful artery-busting food, and climbed the steps to the platform to await the train, all the while shoveling with our fingers.

Delirium tremens … I’ll say.

Belgian beercycling 2000: A pause for perspective before the tour concludes.

Belgian beercycling 2000: On beer and bicycles.

Before moving to Brugge and the final stop, we pause for perspective. Here are the previous installments in the series:

6. Belgian beercycling 2000: Poperinge and Cassel.

5. Belgian beercycling 2000: An evening at Cave a Biere, Danes included.

4. Belgian beercycling 2000: Brewing day with Jean-Louis at Brasserie A Vapeur.

3. Belgian beercycling 2000: Tournai warm-up, Cave a Bieres and Pays du Collines.

2. Belgian beercycling 2000: From Brussels to the Tournai base camp in less than 15 drinks.

1. Belgian beercycling 2000: A prologue.

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Readers will have noticed by now that the serialized account of Belgian beercycling in the year 2000, which has been running here lately, is rather longer on beer than it is on bicycling. Admittedly, the hop vs. derailleur balance sheet is skewed in favor of the liquid, but because it remains a valid reflection of our priorities at the time, I’m letting it go and recording events as they occurred.

Or, as I recall them occurring.

With time has come the realization that the 2000 beercycling jaunt truly was a significant turning point. I had commenced traveling in Europe back in 1985 at the age of 24, often alone, always by train or bus, and even on foot at times, with the bare minimum of luggage – first a gym bag, and then a convertible interior frame backpack.

In 1998 and 1999 came the first quantum leaps, as dabbling in group beer tourism by motorcoach started up in earnest. Groups held the prospect of continued personal growth by combining a steadily increasing level of expertise on European beer and travel affairs with a concurrent opportunity to use economies of scale to my benefit, i.e., by having the group’s fees help subsidize the organizer for his labors. After all, you’re not off the clock when watching over a group of thirty people drinking beer, even if the work time is occurring in Europe and not New Albany.

Obviously these were more complicated adventures; nonetheless, they could be organized even by the likes of someone like me who really hadn’t been paying all that close attention to the logistics of groups. It portended well, but having succeeded at more lush travel orchestration, my attention was immediately diverted toward the basics. That’s because I had resumed bicycling stateside in 1999 after a two-decade hiatus.

On the 1999 group trip, it was the first time that I’d bothered to notice what so many Europeans had been trying to tell me all those years as they flew past on two wheels: A bicycle provides an unparalleled way to get around, especially in places like the Netherlands and Germany that are custom designed to facilitate non-motorized transport.

Not only that, but it is plain fun.

Accordingly, this notion rapidly grew into an obsession, and under the theory that a trial run would be a good thing, Kevin Richards and I plotted the inaugural 2000 foray around the notion of using towns as bases and renting bicycles for countryside excursions.

There would be no packing and unpacking of bikes from the hard-shell travel cases, no navigating treacherous airline policy inconsistencies, no major mechanical difficulties necessitating spur-of-the-moment repairs without a hub to return to easily, no panniers (i.e., saddlebags) to be loaded and unloaded, and almost none of the hundreds of other aspects of bicycle touring that have been experienced during subsequent rips, when we have moved from place to place entirely on our own bicycles brought from home, and self-sufficient in many ways.

The trial run was another great success, and so if logically follows that the excerpted story that you’ve been reading, originally written for the FOSSILS homebrewing club newsletter in 2001 and heavily revised for republication here, was intended as encouragement for our fledgling beercycling cadre to persevere and further broaden the scope of its recreational beer hunting so as to work toward real touring.

In the years that followed the 2000 ceremonial dipping of toes into the water, there was a second rental beercycling excursion in 2001 to Belgium and Germany (with a long train ride in between), followed by the first touring beercycling event with our own bicycles in 2003, when I biked from Frankfurt to Vienna, and was joined by some of the lads at pre-arranged meeting points along the way. We immediately regrouped for a summertime “Tour de Trappist” cross-country jaunt in 2004, which took the beercyclists to all of Belgium’s brewing monasteries. After an off year in 2005, the gang we came together again in 2006 and rode much of the Prague to Vienna Greenway folliwing a brief introductory respite spent beercycling around Bamberg.

Meanwhile, group trips were not abandoned. Two took place in 2002, and the most recent, the now legendary 2004 German-Czech beer blast, was so incredibly perfect that I’ve taken a few years off from organizing for fear that it might never be matched.

Speaking honestly, the bicycling component has come to exert a stronger gravitational pull on me than the more conventional motorcoach extravaganzas, but my commitment to the latter remains. In 2008, it is my aim to organize one of each, the first in May for the purpose of hunting beer and breweries by motorcoach in the Pacific Northwest, and the second in September by bicycle, using as pretext the triennial hop fest in Poperinge, but with the possibility of synchronized motorized transport if sufficient interest is there.

You’ll read more about these at another time. Until then, thanks to all of those who have accompanied me on these marvelous times. I can only wish that they’ve been as good for you as they have for me.

Next: Beercycling 2000 comes to a "delirious" close in Brugge

Belgian beercycling 2000: Poperinge and Cassel.

The biking beer hunters – Kevin Richards, Bob Reed, Buddy Sandbach and Roger Baylor – managed to survive the onslaught of the Danish invaders on the final evening in Tournai. Poperinge was next in line as host for three days of biking in Flanders, and with it the belated presence of the Fifth Musketeer, Kevin Lowber,

5. Belgian beercycling 2000: An evening at Cave a Biere, Danes included.

4. Belgian beercycling 2000: Brewing day with Jean-Louis at Brasserie A Vapeur.

3. Belgian beercycling 2000: Tournai warm-up, Cave a Bieres and Pays du Collines.

2. Belgian beercycling 2000: From Brussels to the Tournai base camp in less than 15 drinks.

1. Belgian beercycling 2000: A prologue.

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“The (German) attack had not penetrated to the decisive heights of Cassel and the Mont des Cats, the possession of which would have compelled the (British) evacuation of the Ypres salient and the Yser position. No great strategic movement had become possible, and the Channel ports had not been reached. The second great offensive had not brought about the hoped-for decision.”

--From the official German account of the offensives on the Western Front in 1918, as quoted by John Keegan in his book, “The First World War.”

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When the fatigued quartet arrived by train on Sunday lunchtime in the Belgian “hop town” of Poperinge, a place that had the good fortune to remain somewhat safely behind British lines throughout the Great War and accordingly was spared the wholesale devastation suffered only ten kilometers away in Ieper (Ypres), the street called Ieperstraat that leads from the tiny train station to the center of town was packed with shoppers, strollers and snackers. The festive atmosphere was a complete surprise, as most stores and shops aren’t open on Sunday, but we later learned that it was a special annual shopping day, precisely the sort of phenomenon to make a beercyclist thirsty as he waits for the next spoked fix.

Checking into the legendary Hotel/Restaurant Palace, we found our newly arrived comrade Kevin Lowber carving a massive slab of beef, anxiously awaiting us in the shadow of an equally oversized bottle of red wine. He’d just come in to Poperinge from Brussels. Biking in and around the town was slated to begin on Monday, and this seemed to merit a map study and strategy and tactics session. Adjourning across the hall to the hotel’s cozy world-class beer bar, we discussed the riding itinerary for the coming days.

A plan of attack quickly fell into place. Monday would take us to Ieper for a ride through the battlefield sites south and east of town. On Tuesday, we would meet Luc Dequidt, chief of Poperinge’s amazingly comprehensive tourist bureau, for a two-wheeled tour of local attractions: The St. Sixtus abbey (home of the scrumptious Westvletern Trappist ales), the brewing town of Watou, the Helleketel forest, and row after row of the hop trellises that take on a life of their own each three years during the town’s hop festival.

Wednesday was chosen as the day for us to attempt what German military might had failed to achieve more than eight decades before: Seize the heights of Mont des Cats and Cassel. From our Poperinge base, this projected foray into France wouldn’t be very difficult, totaling less than 30 miles roundtrip; more importantly, it would provide a glimpse of northern French beer culture, which naturally was my ulterior motive all along.

Riding east towards Ieper on Monday, the French hills almost always could be seen rising on the horizon to the south, and although they aren’t particularly big, the flatness of Flanders magnifies their significance and one can readily understand their strategic importance in wartime. There were constant reminders of combat on Monday, as our journey took us past numerous Great War monuments and cemeteries of the British Commonwealth forces, whose final resting places attested to the global scale of the First World War: Irish, Australian, Canadian and Indian soldiers, buried alongside lads from Manchester and Newcastle. The resting places of Belgian, French and German soldiers also were seen.

Monday’s midday break brought us to the center of Ieper, a town utterly devastated from 1914-1918, then painstakingly rebuilt in the years preceding the next world conflagration. When the second war swept through Belgium, one young Ieper native resolved to escape. He made it somehow to then-colony of Belgian Congo, and later to South Africa, where he enlisted in the British armed forces and fought against the German occupiers until war’s end in 1945. Later he founded a restaurant and pub, sold it, then opened another, called Ter Posterie for its location opposite Ieper’s post office.

I can’t remember this man’s name, and certainly he would have no reason to remember mine, but nonetheless I met him on three different occasions and have always enjoyed the beer, food and hospitality at Ter Posterie. By 2000, active control of the business had long since passed to his daughter, but the old man still frequented the establishment, and when glimpsing an English speaker, would spin his life story for the visitor in a narrative honed over thousands of ale-side retellings. Ter Posterie is another Belgian classic, with many dozens of bottled ales, a few more on draft, savory food and an outdoor terrace, where we sat and discussed our first half-day’s ride.*

Tuesday’s riding schedule was light, but rich in intangibles owing to the presence of Luc and his wife, Jeannine. We kept a leisurely pace on the country lanes radiating from Poperinge, never very far from the smell of manure and the sight of hops. It was a pub crawl on human-powered wheels: Westvleteren 12-degree Trappist at the terrace of the newly built tasting café opposite the abbey, then through the woods and fields to the fabled “brewing village” of Watou and refreshing Witbier from the small town’s Van Eecke brewery, then south and east via wooded lanes back to Poperinge.

At the edge of the Helleketel forest there is a small brewery and tasting café known as the Bie**; unfortunately, it wasn’t open on Tuesday. Amazingly, yet another brewery is located near Watou, which is really no more than a collection of houses: St. Bernardus, which used to produce beer by contract for the monks of St. Sixtus under the Sixtus name. The contract was terminated, and the brewery began to brew its own line of abbey-style ales that arguably is the finest of all secular recreations.

Wednesday proved to be the highlight of the Poperinge interlude, with the group primed for climbing the two French hills and having lunch in Cassell. Arriving winded at the summit of the Mont des Cats, we saw a conveniently situated Trappist monastery, which might have provided liquid incentive had it been situated a few miles north in Belgium. Unfortunately, there are no Trappist breweries in France, so instead the monastery makes acclaimed cheeses and butter, some of which were destined for sampling later at our midday feast.

For beer, one must descend the Mont des Cats and proceed to the small town of St. Sylvestre Cappell, home to the brewery that produces Trois Monts, or “three mountains.” Wherever the third one is located, we did not climb it. Trois Monts is exemplary proof that good beer and France are not mutually exclusive, although this view continues to be held by many otherwise intelligent and discerning beer aficionados, whose Francophobia is permitted to hold sway at the expense of their taste buds.

They’re missing good things. Bieres de garde perhaps are best understood as a sort of appellation of origin, describing beers from northern France, but beyond that there are few hard and fast rules. Often they are made with top-fermenting yeast, but not always. Usually they are aged in a process akin to lagering. Colors and strengths range across the spectrum. Many, but not all, are bottled in 750 ml corked bottles. If there is any one characteristic that seems common among the better French bieres de garde, it is a richly complex malt character. These are beers that taste fine alone, but better when they accompany food.

Thus, having scaled the heights of the Mont des Cats and scrambled down the other side in pursuit of a restorative glass of Trois Monts, we found it in a tiny roadside café where the proprietor spoke no English but was happy to learn that we weren’t “English”, and who seemed amused by our interest in the local brew. Temporarily sated, our final and more formidable objective lay before us: Cassel, the town straddling the top of the hill of the same name.

A half-hour’s ride along the highway brought us to the foot of the hill, and we began the winding ascent that culminated in the town’s main square. A narrow lane took us further toward the top, ending in a wooded park with a large windmill situated to our left. I knew from previous research that this was the Grail, for located just beneath the windmill was our real reason for coming: T' Kasteel Hoff.

The windmill is the highest point in Flanders, with unobstructed views far and wide even on a hazy day, and the café just below it, one that clings to the side of the steep hill, is considered the finest beer café in France. I’ve been to few others, but it would be difficult to imagine any better.

T’ Kasteel Hoff specializes in all things local. The food is from French Flanders, as are the beers. We found seats on the patio after walking through the crowded main room, where spontaneous applause greeted our entrance; bowing in appreciation of this unexpected acknowledgement of our collective biking prowess, we were disappointed to learn that the group of senior citizens actually was applauding a speech of some sort by one of its own.

Instructed that the kitchen was being overloaded by the tour group and only cold food was available, each of us opted for a mixed cheese and pate plate. Three would have sufficed for all five beercyclists, such was the size of the portions. Three 750 ml bottles of French Bieres de Garde were shared: Hommelpap (four hop varieties, earthy and a moderate 7% abv), Kasteel (the house ale) and Pot Flamand, the latter two falling on the sweetly malty side of the flavor spectrum, as I expected.

As if a convivial atmosphere, bountiful food and delicious beer weren’t reason enough to seek out t’ Kasteel Hoff, the pub also boasts a shop for carry-out sales: Bieres de garde, local honey and jam, liqueurs, post cards and souvenirs -- more of each than any of us were able to carry, and Kevin Lowber drew the short straw in this regard: He had made the mistake of bringing his backpack, which was filled with booty gathered by the others, our rental bikes being unequipped with panniers or hauling apparatus.

With ground to cover back to Poperinge and expressing ample regrets over having to leave so soon, we lugged our booty to the bikes and debarked in a meandering northerly direction, enjoying the countryside and melting away the lunchtime caloric intake. The group seemed hale and hearty, except perhaps Buddy, and therein is yet another story.

On the night preceding our Cassell reconnoitering, after benedictory drinks with Luc, we’d dined as a group in the Hotel Palace’s restaurant and enjoyed several bottles of French red wine with the uniformly excellent meats, breads and pastas. After dinner, adjourning once again to the nearby bar and seeking the inimitable service provided by Guy, the owner, Kevin Richards elected to continue drinking wine. For reasons that remain obscure to this very day, Buddy felt emboldened to undertake a suicide mission, attempting to match Kevin bottle for bottle.

Knowing better from previous experiences, the remainder of the contingent nursed Belgian ales and retired to bed early in preparation for the big day. For those readers who have witnessed such ill-conceived ventures in the past, it should come as no surprise that during our ascent of the two French hills, Buddy began to perceive the error of his ways, particularly during lunch, when he was overheard to remark that a nap would feel good. On the ride back to Poperinge, he was flagging. For a while, it seemed that Bob might have to offer last rites, but he rallied and finished the course. Back at the Hotel Palace, bikes safely returned to the shop, and with appetites stoked by the day’s activities, Buddy went straight to bed.

For the rest of us, a meal on the main square at Café Paix and a few ales during the evening’s televised Euro Cup soccer match capped off a long and fruitful day. Not for the first time, I asked myself why it had taken me so long to discover the joys of biking in Europe.

As a reminder, once every three years (next in 2008), Poperinge celebrates its heritage of hops with a festival that captures the attention of beer lovers throughout the world, but remains consummately local in orientation, with much of the town actively participating in the fun. The town welcomes visitors at all times, not only during the festival, and it is hard to overstate the many charms of the area, especially for those infatuated with Belgian beer. Poperinge is eternally friendly, relaxed, tidy and efficient. As has happened so many times since, it was with grudging reluctance that my friends and I group departed on Thursday morning, walking back up Ieperstraat to board the train to Brugge and travel to the final phase of a remarkable trip.

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* During the course of several visits subsequent to the 2000 trip recounted here, Ter Posterie’s colorful founder was observed to be sadly descending into advanced Alzheimer’s disease, and I believe he has now passed away. He will be remembered.

** In 2007, the Bie’s rural tasting room remains intact, and the company has a few other outposts in the region, but the brewing now is done a few miles away in Loker.

Belgian beercycling 2000: An evening at Cave a Biere, Danes included.

At the conclusion of the last installment, the fledgling bicyclists (but veteran beer hunters) Kevin Richards, Bob Reed, Buddy Sandbach and Roger Baylor had wrapped up a visit to the Vapeur brewery with a bountiful lunch of multitudinous cheeses and the patron Jean-Louis’s wonderful ale. Now it was time to meet the Danes back in Tournai for an evening of sports and ale.

4. Belgian beercycling 2000: Brewing day with Jean-Louis at Brasserie A Vapeur.

3. Belgian beercycling 2000: Tournai warm-up, Cave a Bieres and Pays du Collines.

2. Belgian beercycling 2000: From Brussels to the Tournai base camp in less than 15 drinks.

1. Belgian beercycling 2000: A prologue.

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As we rode our bikes down narrow Wallonian country lanes not far removed from the outskirts of Tournai and our base camp at the Hotel d’Alcantara, a clear and warm Saturday afternoon suddenly turned blustery and overcast. The Cochonette-laced warm fuzzies from a lengthy session at Brasserie A Vapeur on its monthly brewing day dissipated rapidly in the face of a brisk headwind, made more formidable by legs still tired from the previous day’s mountain biking excursion in the woods and fields of the Pays du Collines.

However, the sobering return workout was all for the best, because a celebratory and surely taxing evening lay ahead.

Awaiting our return at the hotel were three Danes of the apocalypse: Kim Wiesener, Kim Andersen and Allan Gamborg. Coincidentally, they had gathered in Wallonia for the European soccer championships being held in the summer of 2000 at various venues throughout Belgium and the Netherlands, and after being made aware of the beercycling visit, conspired to include us in their itineraries.

These three cosmopolitan natives of Denmark are bosom friends of long standing, each of them multi-lingual, well-traveled and professionally accomplished in his chosen field. When a soccer match is taking place, each of them also is prone to reverting with dazzling speed to a childlike state, one understood internationally and intuitively by all sporting males.

Their life stories would fill a volume, and such a biographical rendering lies beyond my immediate task of describing the 2000 beercycling trip, but according to tradition, I’m permitted one digression. Here it is. Back in the day …

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My friendship with the Danes goes back to 1987, and is inexorably intertwined with that of my illustrious longtime partner in crime, Barrie Ottersbach, who was unable to join us in Tournai in 2000.

That fateful summer of ‘87, an unsuspecting Kim Wiesener was the tour leader for a “youth” travel group visiting the Soviet Union and Poland, and Barrie and I were enthusiastic and only marginally youthful participants (we were 27).

Legend has it that Kim fell under Barrie’s spell (or was it the other way around?) on a hair-raising Aeroflot flight from Copenhagen to Moscow, where I joyously met the group, having arrived in the capital of the evil empire by way of a 36-hour train trip from Hungary during which I was kept company by a bag of fresh cherries, two loaves of bread, a salami from Szeged and two bottles of Bull’s Blood wine.

On the morning following the boozy evening of the group’s belated arrival, all of us were supposed to meet in the hotel lobby before setting out for a bus tour of Moscow. Kim was mildly concerned when Barrie failed to appear for roll call; I reassured him that all was well, and that Barrie was in safe hands, having ventured into the Soviet underworld with “Bill,” the friendly neighborhood black market sales representative who I’d met earlier under similar circumstances.

At that point, and not even a full day into the excursion, Kim understood that it would be a long journey, but he was reassured when Barrie appeared later that afternoon brandishing a softball-sized wad of colorful rubles. For the remainder of our stay in the USSR, Barrie gleefully depleted the ridiculously huge bankroll on lavish restaurant meals, caviar, vodka and champagne; beer was difficult to find, and the rubles worthless elsewhere in the world. For a brief time, Barrie himself occupied a sales representative position on the fringe of the black market, profitably reselling rubles back into hard currency for those members of our group who were too frightened or squeamish to trade on the streets.

This introductory lesson in entrepreneurial initiative duly completed, we moved on to Leningrad by overnight express train just in time for an impromptu Fourth of July celebration. Kim, Barrie and I gathered on the grassy, mosquito-infested bank of an urban canal, a scene made complete when a bottle of the finest Russian vodka materialized from Kim’s backpack. Illuminated by the White Night, we were introduced f