East side in a bottle!

I love a good beer that brings you to a certain place with that first sip - not an emotional place, but a physical location. Like you take a slug of it and you are somehow transported to the surroundings and environment that the beer holds.

Mammoth Brewing company's 395 Ipa does just the trick, particularly following a long day of sweat and toil backcountry skiing on the 4th of July. Heat, suncups, sloppy skin-tracks, and some fun mashed potatoes lend particularly well to some enjoyable rehydration, especially when basecamp is way back down below snow level. The boots come off first, and then that first gulp fills my palate and my mind with the sage and juniper that are such an integral part of the Eastern Sierra environment. My stinky feet are up now, the bitterness of the brew starts to bite; the zone of meeting between alpine and desert starts to blur. By the time that last gulp washes down, I've been reminded that one big beer with sage and juniper in it is plenty - things get a bit astringent by the end. And now this beerfit junkie needs some food, well maybe another 395 IPA will go down well with some spicy carnitas? Ahhh, my mind spends much of its time on the East Side. Unfortunately, my body is located on 680 more than 395....

BeerFit Pairing: Vanilla GU and Blauw.

It's Mt. Diablo on a hot May afternoon. It's dusty, it's windy. You suck down the first Vanilla GU about an hour in to an afternoon "jog". That first one goes down pretty good; the vanilla sweetness is pleasant, and the water even sweeter as it washes down the carbs. Every forty-five minutes or so, you suck down another  GU; your muscles thank you for it, you love that little burst of energy you get, but each one gets closer to the experience of forcing wallpaper paste down the gullet. By the fifth or sixth GU, it sticks to the tongue and the roof like vanilla putty, and even water seems to clump as it tries to find a route down your throat.

You get back to the car, sweaty and salty, that GU paste just torturing your palate and there is absolutely nothing better to wash it down than a Gouden Carolus Cuvee Van de Keizer Blauw, from Brouwerij Het Anker. A mouthful to say and a heavenly mouthful to swallow. The rich, complex, and beguiling layers of this Belgian bombshell push that GU right off the palate and to the nether-regions, as each wave of goodness washes through the mouth like the Emperor's richest tapestries. Vanilla, molasses, oak, spices, sugars, all just rush in to the senses and command not just attention, but celebration with this beer; indeed, it is almost sacrilege to refer to this as "beer" - this sh*t is as close to godly nectar as one can get!

The "Grand Cru of the Emperor" is brewed on February 24th every year, in celebration of the birthday of Charles the 5th, who was apparently an English bastard that was fond of and willing to help the Belgians against the French or the Germans or some other Eurotrash rampaging conquering nutjobs. Apparently, Charles the 5th knew how to party, cause this brew is beyond enjoyable; it is an experience that defines life itself, and calls for its imbiber to look towards the heavens and question just what it is that makes beer - and life itself - such a rewarding and beguiling experience. Each sip arouses new sensations, the alcohol mingling with the soul, palate and heart becoming one. The highlight here isn't on a bunch of hoppy, skunky greenness - no. Here, the Keizer revels in the backbone of malt and fermentation - he'll kick your ass if you don't show respect, and he'll bless you with the kingdom if you allow him to permeate your being.

So your feet are up. You smile reaches from ear to ear, and you just couldn't frown if you tried. Even though you wore a hat and slathered sunscreen all over yourself, you're still radiating a warmth and glow not seen since Kilauea erupted. "More Blauw," you spew, with an enthusiastic mumble that belies the beer's 11% alcohol. The lingering pasting of vanilla GU is gone, replaced by an enlightened mouth that is still reveling in the challenge of mystery of such a celestial brew. You get up to see if there is more - but alas there is none. The Keizer only reveals himself on special occasions, and he - and the six GUs of a four-hour run - are just flat-out telling you to go to bed. You crawl in to bed with a giggling gasp, and with a last-minute thought: Ol' Charles the Fifth musta been a trailrunner allright!

Allison Kreutzen

I'm finally ready to sit down and get my own thoughts down in words regarding the life of Allison, and what she means to me. It's been a tough 10 days, she's been on my mind persistently, and it hasn't been easy or obvious on how to feel. Just as reading the words and seeing the pictures over the past week has allowed me to become reacquainted with this wonderful woman, it also allowed me to confront the mourning that I've been doing since she left my life over 11 years ago. So in the spirit of moving forward, I'm sitting down with a peanut butter, carrot, garlic, and garbanzo bean sandwich to get it out. I hope you enjoy my thoughts...

As this website reflects my current obsession with beer, and was originally intended to be more of a beer-tasting review, I'd like to point out right here and now that I am somewhat disappointed that Allison had gone the way of PBRs - with limes or not. The first beer I shared with her was a Sierra Nevada Bigfoot, she gulped the potent barleywine right down; it took me a while, but I finally came around to it and we shared a lot of "dark and nasty" beers after that - sheaf stouts and guinness were our staples. 

I've always known Allison was a "tomorrow person" - she was  much more interested in what she was going to do next than what happened yesterday. She made her plans to play with vigor and enthusiasm, and was always getting excited about her next adventure. She also managed to leave the disappointments  or conflicts of yesterday behind; she wasn't one to dwell on negativity. Traits we can all take with us as an example.

Allison and I met in the Fall of 1992, over dinner at Karen and Chance's Holly Street house in Tahoe City. Allison's brothers Tim and Jeff were there, as was my girlfriend of the time, and Allison's boyfriend too. Allison and I had an instant chemistry that night; we talked about telemark skiing, climbing, birds, music and we seemed to have the same interests and opinions immediately. The forces continued to align, as the next morning we pulled up next to each other by chance in the Squaw Valley parking lot and headed off to the gondola. She was wearing a patchwork mini-skirt with purple tights and a glowing smile that just got bigger as the day went on. I skied about six feet off the ground that whole day. She was just learning to climb, we continued the day by going in to the Headwall climbing gym in the tram building and did laps until they closed. Her enthusiasm about climbing and skiing were beyond infectious. We shared the aforementioned Bigfoot in the Squaw parking lot, and she came to my house where we stayed up all night talking about all the stuff that interested us at the time. Her knowledge and passion for animals and nature was just one of the things that had me smitten...

It took a while, but we both ended our other relationships and it wasn't long before we were completely wrapped up in each other. She came back to Tahoe from her job at Woodleaf and we were skiing and climbing together daily. We made trips to the East Side and Joshua Tree that were filled with laughter and the kind of fun that forty-somethings shouldn't discuss. The first few years we were together were beyond magical; they were the years that forged our adult personalities, our tenacity and humor for life.

Don't worry, I'm not looking to go year by year here! However, a few words about the Donner Party are of course required... Somehow, our social world came together in the most awesome maelstrom of fun by way of Bill Sitkin and the Sports Exchange. Allison worked there first; I remember she was on duty the night the climbing gym opened and it was like the place was christened right then and there. Yes, we used to show up to boulder clad in horribly tacky polyester with our climbing shoes in bowling-ball bags. We had unbelievable fun in that place; thanks to Bill for being the best oddball business owner ever! And it was at Bill's house where one night we started cutting up xerox copies of old guidebooks, Spike and I repasting them to form the Vertical Cannibal. We would go on to do six more issues, and the best part of each one was bringing them home from the copystore, folding them, and then watching everyone congregated at Bill's as they read the new issue and seriously laughed out loud. The extended group of friends that became "the New Donner Party" had about the best sense of humor you could imagine; anyone that can combine cannibalism and rock climbing has the potential to create some good friends and some good laughs!

Allison's family became my family;  they treated me and my mom like true family and we were welcomed into their lives authentically and genuinely. I can never forget how generous and welcoming they were.

I also want to recognize Allison's bond with animals, and dogs in particular. She had a wily little wolfish dog named Montana (with a tilde - mountain in spanish) that took her sweet time to trust me, but in the end she and I had the kind of bond that has always influenced my love for canines. I heard an NPR story a few weeks ago relating how a certain Native American tribe has a myth about what happens when you get to the pearly gates: they believe that you are met there by all the animals that you had relations with in your life, and they make the choice on whether you're in or out. Based on the way Allison treated all her dog-friends - she's now in charge of the kennel and has them all out on a run. For me, it has to be said that this is a trait that Allison is second to only one person - Laura.

When I first met Dulce last Wednesday, she seemed very spooked and distrusting of me. She let me pet her, but she sauntered away pretty quickly, obviously still awaiting the return of her adventuring mom. Late Thursday night at the Chamois party, I suddenly felt her brush up against my leg, and she was looking up at me forlornly. I sobbed into her fur for a few long seconds, and couldn't wait to get home to  Clyde and Jojo. Animals rule.

Allison and I split up eleven years ago now, just as we were ringing in a new Millennium. I would see her just 3 or 4 times over those eleven years, but the last time was the most important. With Billy and Tim McD. , we went out and saw the Mother Hips at the Fillmore. She and I got a chance to reconnect, we laughed off our differences and hugged and just felt better about life in general. We stood there beaming to the music like we used to, and even held hands for a few songs. It was a cathartic evening for me, and I am unbelievably grateful now that we had that chance to move on. We promised to see each other again, and to reconnect as well as we could.  I am saddened by the thoughts that Allison will never get to meet Shawn, but perhaps even more so by the thought that Shawn will not get to meet her.

Which brings me to my final thought - what is it about Allison that I still have within me, and what is it that I can take forward? It's about the way I am raising Shawn, and it's about the way I coach the 13 year-old girls I am entrusted with. Allison shows us how much life is about challenging yourself, and not basking in the results, but just getting fired up for the next challenge. She liked to do hard things for the sake of doing hard things, not because she wanted any recognition. She enjoyed getting the best out of herself, and tomorrow was another chance to do it. There's nothing better I could hope for than to know that spirit carries over in my parenting and my coaching.

I related the story of Allison to the Aftershock Girls last weekend before a game; I got a bit choked up, and the girls were pin drop quiet as I explained how rad she was and about how hard she pushed her limits. I told them about the bumper sticker on her car that said "girls kick ass!". They played with that swagger and self-confidence that would have been Allison leading a hard climb. They won, but more importantly I hope, they were thinking about getting fired up for their next game. I found out this morning they are going to make "girls kick ass" wristbands for the team!

This is also a tribute to all the strong women - Laura, Phebe, Kristie, and so many more. Allison showed me so much about what women can do - and along with all those other women out there that continue to humble me - I am grateful to her for instilling the attitude of "girls kick ass" in me. My daughter and my players will grow into awesome women because of the impact you have made on my life.

I've been on several runs since hearing the news; most were slow and lethargic, tears and heavy breathing don't seem to mix too well. Today I got out and ran with energy and gusto, sprinting a few times and jumping over some stumps and rocks, and making a few "tele turns" too. I smiled and said hello to everyone I passed. Thanks to everyone for sharing this with me, thanks to everyone who came up to me last Thursday at the Memorial and gave me such heartfelt hugs - it's pretty overwhelming to share years of emotion with so many people. 

Billy busted out the quote that makes me think of her so much: "Precious Opal, Queen of Gems".

Cheers Precious Opal, thanks for helping me see just how kick-ass life can be!

Beer Profile: Sheaf Stout

Ok, you're not going to find Sheaf on the Beer Advocate Top 100. But if you're scraping the ashtray and just got to have a dark and nasty stout, this is your cheap corner fix. Aboriginal dark and mischievous like the outback horizon, Sheaf has a sharp, burnt taste with just a little chocolate sweetness to cut the bite. It is light on the mouth for a stout - the 5.8% ABV doesn't have the luxurious texture that some of its imperial cousins feature - but the positive there is that it is eminently drinkable in larger quantities and its cheap pricing (I really dig the twist-off caps!) make buying an armful a distinct option. You can only imagine that if the alcohol level were any higher, there would be heaps of 'blokes' beating the cr*p out of each other up and down the land of Oz.

What Sheaf really says though is rock-climbing. Drinking Sheaf just goes well after a day of jangled nerves and quivering forearms. And as a matter of fact, Sheaf is somewhat iconic in the climbing world due to an infamous photo of John "The Vermin"Sherman taking a big slug from a bomber of Sheaf while climbing high off the ground ropeless in flip-flops. 

Some genius in a sh*t-hole convenience store in the Mojave Desert knew about the picture, and he started selling Sheaf to dirtbag Joshua Tree climbers and I ended up with an exuberant and devoted taste for dark and nasty beers. Sheaf Stout - along with Guinness and Henry Weinhardts Blue - were my introduction to stouts back in the '80s.

And now Sheaf Stout has miraculously reappeared here on shelves at sketchy liquor stores around the Bay Area. Ideal pairings include those sick little Vietnamese donuts or a Snickers bar, after an afternoon bouldering session at Indian Rock of course to offset caloric intake.These are wonderful times indeed for beer lovers!

BeerFit Homebrew Tip #1 - Get the dogs in to help out!

You pick up any homebrew manual, and the first thing they'll blab on about is the need to get the pets out of the house, vacuum up any dog hair, etc... Baloney, dogs are great morale support and they always keep the focus on staying entertained. After a good trail run today, we had a muy gordo burrito and an Alaskan barleywine before doing some bottling. Here's Clyde doing his best to help out and stay BeerFit!

BeerFit Athlete Interview: Laura Spain

BF: So Laura, thanks for joining us here at the Trappist tonight. Let's jump right in, what the heck is an ultrarunner?
LS: Ultra distance runs are longer than marathons.
BF: Holy crap! What's the farthest you've run?
LS: 100km, 62 miles, done it a few times.
BF: Wow, I'd feel good about drinking a lot of beer after a run like that. What did you drink after that race? 
LS: Lagunitas makes a special Pale Ale for the Miwok 100K, so I had a few of those!
BF:  Simple question, Why do you run?
LS: I hate that question.
BF: OK, what do you get out of running?
LS: Time to myself, and most importantly a connection with nature and the outside world. I only run on dirt; no roads, so I'm always on a trail.
BF: How do athletics and beer combine to influence your lifestyle?
LS: Huh? Ummm, I guess two hours in to a long run, I'm pretty much thinking about food and beer; turkey sandwiches, double IPA, and advil keep me chugging along. That's pretty much my lifestyle I guess.
BF: What does "winning mentality" mean to you?
LS: What? I've never won anything so I don't know. Double IPAs and free shirts are my trophies, so I'm happy with those.
BF: Any advice for aspiring BeerFit athletes?
LS: Yeah, get out and hit the trail so you don't end up a lardass. Carbo loading is very real, and beer is carbs. Stock up and then burn it off.
BF: That's great advice. What's your favorite sports drink?
LS: That'd have to be Pliny the Elder.
BF: Thanks for joining us, I gotta run, I can feel that stout sloshing around in my gut. Later.

C.O.D. - The BeerFit way of Life.

The COD - "Compromise of the Day" - In the interest of offsetting caloric intake and justifying your obsession with hard to find and meticulously crafted ales, this is where you compromise your time by engaging in some sort of physical activity that stimulates your aerobic system. While necessary to maintaining some sort of reasonable physical appearance, I'd prefer to keep a real "glass half-full" outlook on this and point out that the COD should get you psyched up for beer. I don't really care (that much) about my waistline, but sweetjeebus that bomber of Imperial Stout just is more rewarding after a good trail run.

Today's COD is more cerebral; perhaps more about adrenaline than lactic acid:
Go out and find a big hill to skateboard down, look for one at least a few miles long if possible. Do it three times (what you'd call "reps" in a gym). Lose your breath walking up, and scare the crap out of yourself on the way down.

I'd say you've earned at least 3 Mammoth Epic IPAs for that workout!