There were two new beers I tried which allowed me to experience this first hand. The first was a Raven's Ridge Pale Ale, and the second was an Alaskan Pale Ale. The Raven's Ridge was native to Fairbanks, and I believe that the Alaskan was imported from Anchorage, though my memory is hazy.
I tasted the Raven's Ridge first, and was very happy with it. As a beer connoisseur with no breadth of stylistic cravings, I know my Pale Ales. This was a pretty hoppy beer, with nice floral aromas. In fact, by the end of this story, I'll have decided that I found this beer to be the better of the two. Knowing that, you can now save yourself the trouble of reading the rest of this column and just go ahead and click the ad at the top to visit one of our sponsors (and make us some $cash$).
For the more masochistic of you who have moved on to this paragraph, I can explain why those masochistic tendencies can make a beer taste better.
You may or may not have noticed that both of the beers listed above were Alaskan beers. This is because at the end of June through the beginning of July, I had the joy of finding out, for the second time in my professional life, what a vacation is. Granted, my professional life may only consist of 3 years of work, but I think I'm still down one vacation.
Being a computer geek, I was unable to come up with any original ideas, like doing beer tours of Germany or Belgium, as to what to do with myself during all that free time. So, I ended up going to Alaska with my father and two younger brothers. The plan was to have a good family bonding experience by backpacking for seven days straight in the Alaskan wilderness, carrying everything on our backs, with only a crazy ex-Norwegian-turned-Alaskan hunting guide to lead us into and out of said wilderness.
Of course, I didn't find this out until I was trapped on the plane. I was told we were going to go on an Alaskan pub-crawl.
It was a good experience. There's definitely something to be said for being completely isolated, out in the wilderness over 40 miles from the closest civilization, knowing that there's 4 more days of walking before you join that civilization again. It's a very cool experience to be able to see creatures like bald eagles, grizzly bears, caribou, moose, and mountain sheep in their natural surroundings instead of in a zoo. It's cool to be able bring home a four-foot-long caribou antler and skull (though the skull had to be soaked in bleach for about a week before the remaining brain tissue finally rotted away) that were just lying out on the ground.
There's also something to be said for having blisters on the third day of seven that are covering your entire feet. Especially when one of those blisters is on your heel, and is already full of blood. There's something to be said for not being able to stand up straight at the end of a day of hiking because you're in such pain from trying to climb 1500 feet twice that day with those 60 pounds of pack holding you firmly down at the lower altitudes.
On the other hand, there's something to be said for being a really out-of-shape computer geek, whose favorite hobby involves sitting immobile on bar stools for hours on end, hoping to blend with his surroundings so that he has the advantage of surprise when attacking his prey before he drinks it.
What can be said, especially regarding that last point, is that when such a computer geek is done with those seven days, no matter what beverage you put in front of him, he's going to enjoy it immensely.
Such was the case with the Alaskan Pale Ale. A decent beer; it was a lot better than other micro-brews I've had. But it wasn't hoppy enough for a Pale Ale, and it was a little on the sweet side for me. Not even really a malty sweet, just too sugary sweet. But as I was sitting there, drinking that beer with seven days and seventy miles worth of grime on me, waiting for my brothers and father to finish showering so I could have my turn, that beer was one of the most delicious beverages I have ever tasted.
Two hours later and seventy miles cleaner, after having had another Raven's Ridge, my second Alaskan Pale Ale had lost whatever it was that had made it so tasty. Either that, or I had lost whatever was falling off of me that was making it so tasty. The Raven's Ridge was by far the superior beer, but it lost the contest of being available when I needed it most.
As always, I welcome tips on brain tissue removal.
-- phillip karlsson, brew guru
august 15, 1998