Before my last visit to the ranch, I popped into Powell St. Brewery to inquire if I had missed the fresh hop boat. Which I had by a few days, of course. The super friendly guy behind the counter reminded me that dry hopped beer could also be awesome and pointed out the tall can offerings (my fav format). I wasn’t sure whether to go Cheeky Monkey or Dive Bomb, so my new pal let me try both. And I came away with both. What I loved when I tried Dive Bomb on the coast was a clean, crisp maltiness that wasn’t familiar at all. I occasionally enjoy a malty beer, but they usually are awash in those Christmasy/Wintery-flavours. Dive Bomb didn’t carry that burden. Once in the Cariboo on the cusp of Fall, on a beautiful day, this was a perfect sit-on-an-old-wooden-bench-and-bask-in-my-exceptional-privilege kind of beer. And bask did I ever. I find this beer is fantastic with a slight chill to it, and on a crisp day it seems like a pairing made in heaven. And while there were no crows anywhere to be found that could disturb my moment with a dive bomb, the faint cry of an old raven could be heard.
October is an exciting month at the ranch – shorts are no longer packed along, wood fires get stoked at night, and the window in which you can drink a beer outside in a t-shirt gets pretty narrow (like between 12 and 1).
And it’s in those brief moments when I can sit and imagine the seasonal changes. First comes the barest of dustings of snow a the top of the hills. Then (as below from early November last year) the snow line starts to get lower. And the window for a beer outside not huddled near a fire has just about shut.
And of course during that brief time when I’m sipping my glass of this delicious malty magic, I’m realizing that there is no one, anywhere in all of the Cariboo, doing what I’m doing and drinking this particular beer. I’m a pioneer once again, in my own special way. I too have brought something unique to this special place.