For the past 5 months, Nick Moffatt has been walking across the country to raise money for the American and Royal British Legions. Along the way, he’s been writing an excellent online travel journal, which he updates from the road via cell phone.
He started in New York back on June 17th. Here’s a little taste from Day One of the Nick Walks America blog:
Hello all. Well its the end of day 1 & I am still alive. Ive camped up somewhere in New Jersey by a very nice river, about 13 miles from Staten Island. It’s gonna be squirrel for breakfast too if they dont stop dropping things on my head. So far there’s been no blisters, muggings, crying or passing out. I did see a pretty cool car chase in manhattan though, not that im condoning car theft. Still hasnt sunk in that I’ve actually started, oh well, only 2,985 miles to go….
Wow. When was the last time you walked 3,000 miles? As a native Angeleno, I’m not even sure I’ve walked that far in my whole life, and to do it all at once just seems plain crazy. And obviously I’m not the only one who thinks this guy is a bit crazy. Along the way, he’s been mistaken for an escaped convict, a midget, Mr. Bean, and perhaps worst of all, an Australian.
If you have a few minutes, head over to Nick Walks America and pick up the story from his June archives. It’s a great account of a huge adventure, and I’ve had a great time catching up to speed with this firsthand account of a Brit crossing the US on foot.
There’s only one thing I can think of that would be more fun than reading Nick’s travelogue, and that’s going out next week to throw back a few Victory Beers with the man himself!
Yes, that’s right. Next Wednesday, the 19th, you can join California Beerzine at the Daily Pint in Santa Monica for an evening of victory beers with Nick. Prepare to be enthralled by his stories from the road! To be charmed by his rugged good looks! To be sickened by the grotesque swelling around his ankles! Read more »
Despite a hectic work schedule fraught with deadlines, I managed to make a quick trip to Denver in October to get a brief taste of beervana –– otherwise known as the Great American Beer Festival –– my first time attending. In two words: Overwhelming overload!
I arrived at my downtown hotel, the Curtis (clean, updated, retro-hip, close to the Colorado Convention Center, and highly recommended) Friday evening, too late to make it worthwhile going to the Friday session. Instead, I walked two blocks from the hotel in the brisk, cold air (chillier than expected at around 45º F) to the Rock Bottom brewery/restaurant for some dinner. Alas, their barrel-aged beers were already tapped out, so I asked for the cask version of the Red Rocks Red, dry-hopped with Simcoe (blissfully bitter, but otherwise a typical red ale at 5.4% abv) and ordered the smoked salmon fish ‘n’ chips (mildly smoked, nice take on the standard fare, huge portion). Washed the rest of the meal down with the only other (seemingly) decent brew still pouring, the seasonal Rocktoberfest Märzen (quickly dissipating head, mild and malty at 5%…and boring).
Not a very auspicious start for my GABF weekend, so I got a growler of the Falcon IPA to take back to the room before heading out again for a more rewarding immersion into Denver’s beer culture. While walking to the hotel, I started to feel light-headed, tired and tipsy –– like I had just downed several strong ales at about 10%! I even found myself catching my breath while waiting for the traffic light to change. I wasn’t even climbing a hill. Then it hit me. No, not a car, but the sudden realization that I was now some 5,300 feet above sea level, where alcohol (even a little) has an amplified affect on one who basically lives at sea level. Here I am on my first trip to GABF, and suddenly I’m a cheap drunk.
Later on, I found myself on a lengthy line out in the cold, now dampened by heavy mist (a weather condition that would persist the entire weekend), waiting to get into the Falling Rock Tap House, the “Unofficial Pre- and Post-GABF Headquarters,” thirsty for a great beer or three. Denver’s answer to San Francisco’s Toronado or D.C.’s Brickskeller, with some 70 taps and double that amount of bottles, Falling Rock is the beer bar in the Mile-High City, so there was no surprise that the place was packed to just below Fire Marshal limits –– nor that many of the kegs were blown, despite the fact that none of empty taps had their handles covered. Read more »
Tags: Apex, Asylum, Autumn Maple, Beachwood BBQ, Bear Republic, beervana, Brewers Association, Bruery, Celebrator, Chico Estate Harvest, Consecration, DIPA, Falling Rock, features, GABF, Hamilton's, Lagunitas, Naja's Place, Rock Bottom, Russian River, Sierra Nevada, Tripel
Events | Tomm Carroll November 6, 2008 | 
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