613 Brewery Invasion? What a Capital idea!

(Part 1)

The weekend of the 613 Craft Brewery Invasion ticked off all the boxes for me.

There would be beer - great beer - and there would be conversation with great friends.  Wonderful conversations, in fact, that would be equal parts funny, poignant and slanderous, but always entertaining. And there would be laughter. Lots and lots of laughter.

There would also be stories - some true, some not - about legendary St. Lawrence River Water Snakes; about Cornwall; and about the history of this great nation.

Tales would be told of adjustable prosthetic legs, and trademark issues (Juteuse et Nebuleuse AF™ is off limits, you hackers) would also come up in the chatter. There would also be (I'm told) claims of snoring. Lots of snoring.

Allegedly. But you can ask Paul about that. On second thought, don't. Suppressed memories are the best memories.

But you're not going to get all of this goodness here; sorry and all that. It's taken me more than a month to get this far.

The Parliament Buildings. Canada's most
famous phallic symbol

The weekend had been talked about since the core of the group came back from Huntsville in late April, where we took full advantage of the hospitality provided by Lake of Bays Brewhouse staff to have a marvellous time, culminating in an after-party in Phantom Donnie's hotel room.

And we returned the favour (sort of) by helping brew an awesome West Coast IPA called Bucket List.

It was an amazing weekend meeting new friends and two of the them - Ottawa Matty and Ottawa Joel - declared that the next beer adventure had to be in Ottawa. Natch.

"Our nation's capital is home to more three dozen breweries," enthused Joel. "And they're "Juteuse et Nebuleuse AF," chimed in Matt.

And there they go again, speaking French knowing I can't understand a word. I also heard Joel muttering "Glenn est bel homme" a few times over the weekend and I'm sure he was talking smack about me.

Still, they're great guys and I was quick to tell them I was in. Just let me know when, I said.

I never tire of running this image

It would be a couple of months before the date was finalized - trying to get as many people as possible to agree on a weekend is tough to do, what with work and family commitments, and it's especially difficult in the summer -  but eventually August 17 was fixed.

Now I just had to figure out how to afford the trip, especially since I sold all my credit cards and most of my worldly possessions few months before to try and corner the market on Kveik yeast.

I failed. I'm gonna need a roommate.

As luck would have it, my pal Paul (@bigpeezy) was on Twitter begging for someone to share a room. As I was unable to secure one on my own (see financial issues itemized above), I figured this was a perfect match.

So I grudgingly agreed to share a room with Paul. (But I want that begging thing noted for the record.)

And as Ottawa is a bit of a jaunt from Oshawa, I decided to book off my usual three-hour Saturday morning shift and head out on the Friday, an unusual bit of good judgement on my part.

Especially as Friday, August 16 turned out to be a beautiful day for a long drive. About four hours from Oshawa, I figured, and even quicker if you do a steady 125, which I did.

But it still took me four hours-plus, 'cause I had to make a few pit stops.

For beer.

A recent addition to Manantler's Bottle Wall of
Fame shelf. I can dig it

The first stop doesn't really count, as it was just a few minutes down the highway at Manantler in Bowmanville, and I needed to pick up a few gifts.

Most of the guys on these beer excursions send beer mail to each other on the regular. It's like Christmas, but every couple of weeks. I'm not in that snack bracket, unfortunately, but I do try and bring a few samples of the great beer we have here in Durham Region. I hit up Little Beasts the day before for some Valkyrie and now it was time to pay a visit to my once and always, Manantler, for some Eastern Promises.

Gotta make sure Durham's fine ales are represented in our nation's capital.

Turned out I wasn't the only member of the 613 Brew Crew to visit Bowmanville's OG brewery that morning.

Norm was working the bar when I arrived, and after serving me my pint he went back to working on his podcast or some other entrepreneurial thing, leaving me to chat with Corey, Manantler's talented and extremely chill head brewer.

The next time I saw Norm, who was one of the founding Wizards in downtown  Oshawa's Brew Wizards Cafe and now runs Manantler's tap room while he gets his business, North Brothers Films, up and running, was as I was leaving.

"Your roommate was here earlier," he said, in that trademark dry, slightly very sarcastic tone. "He says he is looking forward to a wonderful weekend sharing a room with you."

"He said that, did he," I responded, thinking, that's how it's going to be, huh? as I gathered my rapier-like wit about me. "Wait until Paul finds out I'm broke and I'll have to owe him for the room."

Honest. That was the best comeback I could come up with.

At Gananoque Brewery, located
in the town's historic Bell Tower

But it was still good for a laugh and I was in good spirits as I headed to my car with my purchases, with only the open road between me and my friends in Ottawa.

It was a gorgeous day for a drive and it was ... refreshing to not have to deal with traffic. Just a straight cruise through familiar places from my reporter days like Port Hope/Cobourg, past the Big Apple in Colborne (What's up Kyra?) and on through Trenton, Belleville and Kingston, where my youngest and I spent an enjoyable weekend not too many years back and where the Brew Crew looks to be headed in the new year.

It was after Kingston when I saw my gas gauge getting dangerously close to 'E' and decided a fill was in order. With the next town on the highway being Gananoque the timing couldn't have been better.

Steve, my Beer Bro and my old college roomie, is from this little St. Lawrence River town (the gateway to the 30,000 Islands), and though he now lives in far-off Wellington, New Zealand, he still has fond memories of his hometown.

A lot has changed in Steve's life since then, most notably the fact that he no longer has either of his legs, the result of a genetic nerve disorder called Hereditary Sensory Autonomic Neuropathy (HSAN) Type 1.

He was diagnosed with HSAN in 2001 - not long after he arrived down under - and was in and out of the hospital 20-plus times before an infection suffered nine years later forced the amputation of his right leg.

My pal Steve enjoying Wellington's
top notch ales, as well as its views

Two years after the surgery his left leg suffered the same fate and my mate now sports nifty prosthetics that are adjustable and currently allow him to stand 6'6, which is just an inch short of his former height of 6'7, or Five-foot 19, as he calls it.

It's a story I share with you now, and I also chose to share it with Lydia, who was running the tap room at the town's own brewery, the aptly named Gananoque Brewing Company, where I stopped for a beer after filling up my tank.

I ordered a pint of Cooper's Hawk, an American Pale Ale (4.2 per cent) that not only sports a super cool name to a Raptor enthusiast like me, but was also delicious and I asked Lydia if she knew of my pal.

No, she had not, she said.

He grew up here before moving to New Zealand, I told her.

'Course he had legs when he lived here
Say what now?
Yeah, he lost both his legs due to a genetic nerve disorder
Get out!
He has prosthetic legs now. They're adjustable
Get out!
So he's actually an inch shorter now
Get out!!

So I did, but not before buying a few beers to go from the fridge, including several Cooper's Hawk APAs.

And saying goodbye to Lydia.

The next landmark was Brockville, and then it was the hour drive on Highway 416, which heads north off the 401 to Ottawa.

I wasn't pulling over to check on my friends' whereabouts, so I set a course for Beyond the Pale (BTP) - a must-see brewery that was only on the "we're gonna try a squeeze it in" part of the itinerary - before calling my pals to see where they at.

My good friend Shannon - World's Greatest Bank Teller - had transferred to Ottawa a few months back and landed a part-time job at BTP, so I was trying to make a connection before the weekend was out.

I knew she was working Saturday night, but it was worth a shot to see if she was there Friday, and if I'm going to stop somewhere in Ottawa , Beyond the Pale seemed like a good place to drop anchor.

A typical Beyond the Pale lineup

Besides, Corey at Manantler had asked me to pick him up a couple of beers, and the brewery - perhaps the best known in Ottawa - was on his list.

Shannon wasn't in when I arrived, but the place was buzzing and there were plenty of hoppy beers on tap and in the fridge. So I bought my to-go brews (including a can of Project, their single hop pale ale series, for Corey), had an Aromatherapy - one of Ontario's OG Hazy IPAs - at the bar and called the gang.

"We're in Orleans, at Orleans Brewery," said Matt, my helpful Ottawa tour guide. "Go north to Scott Street and ..."

"Hold up," I said. "I don't know where north is. Strange town and all. Which way to the St. Lawrence River?"

"The what?" was Matt's response. "The St. Lawrence is like a hundred miles away."

"I just need to get my bearings," I answered, asking again where the river I left over an hour before was, knowing I was in for a weekend of ribbing over this.

Anyway, after a few stops and starts and at least one more phone call to Matt ("my GPS wants to send me to New Orleans!"), I eventually made it to suburban Orleans and the brewery.

Spearhead Brewery President Josh getting the rundown
from Orleans Brewery Head Brewer Adam on how to
perform T-Rex dance moves

The boys - those who were arriving Friday anyway - were on the patio enjoying the late summer evening when I arrived. Matt and Joel - our hosts - were there, as well as Paul, my Beer Bro Don and Spearhead Brewery (Kingston) owner Josh Hayter.

Orleans Brewery owner Yann Lemieux was also at the table and we shared stories and pints (Billy Bob Bison Pale Ale for me) for a while until Danny, who was coming all the way from Sudbury, arrived.

We made sure our boy from the Nickel City had a beer in his hands and then Yann passed us off to Adam, who took us on a tour of the brewery and let us sample a Double IPA straight from the brite tank.

I seem to remember having to drag Don away from that tank.

I also remember us being a happy bunch as we left Orleans and headed to our respective hotels to rest up for what would be a busy five-brewery Saturday.

What else did I remember from a memorable day? I remember Paul being completely oblivious to what he would have to endure over the next two nights with me as his roommate.

But that's for another blog.