Some hot weather finally showed and you know what that means, fisherman and outdoor enthusiasts are working up a thirst and outside good cold clean water; cold craft brewed beer slakes the parched palette like nothing else.
Montanan’s and visitors to have a growing selection of craft brews to choose from. Last year Montana craft brewers contributed 70,000 barrels (that is a lot of suds!) to the nations 8.6 million barrels of craft brewed beer;Â which was up 14.5% over last year. Not bad for lean times.
Montana’s brewing success hinges a lot on the fact that Montanan’s love their beer, they are consistently near the top in per-capita consumption. They are also sociable types, the 1999 legislature passed laws that allowed taprooms to sell beer which opened the door to a whole new drinking experience. A welcome alternative to blasting bar bands, juke boxes and to much smoke (not enough oxygen), a hit for mellower folks and young “geezers” like myself.
I mentioned a couple posts back that the 2009 legislature passed a law raising the allowable alcohol content in beer to 14% so that should add a new chapter to Montana craft brewing very soon.
lang creek brewery, montana
On a downbeat note, while most breweries have at worst been holding their own, the Lang Creek Brewery between Kalispell and Libby announced that it is closing down.
So on Sunday on our return trip from Loon Lake I decided to drop in and pay my respects. I had not stopped by for a long time despite the fact the it sits in the headwaters of some of my old fishing haunts. Anyway, Lang Creek usually has a brew or two that never hit the street or failed the public taste test but were available at their taproom. I decided on my way in that I was going in for these “renegade” brews.
While the place was looking like it was about to be thrown in the back of a Mayflower trailer the important things were still there, the taps and the growlers. After a brief tasting session I settled on London Ale and the outcast, Zeppelin.
Lang Creek Brewery, Montana
I generally do not drink much but after arriving home in the late afternoon and allowing these growlers to cool down till evening they started going down like “honeydew vine water”. I couldn’t decide which I liked better so I kept tasting you know…
“And that’s when I first saw the bear.
Big old Kodiak-lookin’ fella, about sixteen foot tall.
I walked right on up to that bear, ’cause I was God’s Own Drunk and I loved everything in this world. Walked right up tight to him about four-and-a-half feet and I looked right up in his eyes and I want to tell you somethin’ brothers and sisters-my eyes was redder than his was! Hung him up.
And he’s a sniffin’, he’s a sniffin’. He’s tryin’ to smell some fear. He can’t do it, ’cause I’m God’s Own Drunk and I’m a fearless man.
He expects me to do two things, flip or fly. I don’t do either. Hangs him up.
I told him, I said, “Mr. Bear, I’m God’s Own Drunk and I love every hair on your twenty-seven acre body. I’m a fearless man!”
Said, “I want you to go… I know you got bear friends over the hill there. Harry Bear, and Tim Bear, and Jelly Bear, and Tony Bear, and Teddy Bear, and Field Bear, Hazel Bear, John Bear, Pete Bear, and Rare Bear! Go over and tell all of them that I’m God’s Own Drunk tonight and I love everything in God’s green creation. I love them like brothers but if they give me any trouble I’m gonna run every God-damn one of ‘em off the hill!”
I moved up. Don’t you know he moved back two feet.
I reached up and took the bear by the hand. I said, “Mr. Bear, we’re both beasts when it comes right down to it.”
He’s a lookin’ down at me.
I said, “I want you to come with me. You’re gonna be my buddy. Buddy Bear.”
Took him right by his big, old, shaggy man-island sized hand, led him on over, sat him down by the still.
Well, he’s a sniffin’. He’s a sniffin’. He knows there’s honey dew around there, some kind of honey bear honey dew of some kind. He’s a sniffin’
I know what he’s a sniffin’ at.
I took a slash or two myself to taste ‘er out and I filled him a bottle.
Did you ever see them bears, the silhouette of them bears at the circus, suckin’ up that sarsaparilla? Ahhh, it’s a fine lookin’ sight!
And he downed another bottle. And he downed another bottle. And I put two more in him and pretty soon he started to sniff and snort. Tapped his foot.
And he got up and started to do The Bear Dance. Two sniffs, three snorts, a half a turn and one grunt.
And I’m trying’ to do it, but I couldn’t do it ’cause it was just like a jitterbug dance, it was so simple it evaded me.
But we was a dancin’ and yellin’!
And God’s sweet moon a hangin’ in the sky, and God’s sweet lanterns out there and there’s jubilation and love on that hill.
-Lord Buckley, Gods Own Drunk
I was supposed to be organizing the tying outfit and putting together some flies for Grayling fishing but I ended up making a bigger mess and listening to a lot of Dwight Yoakam.
