Kingston, ON:

BeerFam2020

I remember a time from days of yore when men and women of honour and grace would congregate in large numbers to celebrate kinship, fellowship and love.

Stong libations would be consumed and the throng of revelers would travel from tavern to tavern and sometimes, on special occasions, would hire special chariots to take them to the places where these libations were conceived and to meet the wizards creating these magical ales and lagers.

Those times are part of history now, but it is the wish of ale lovers everywhere that history can one day repeat itself.

This, then, is a tale of one such occasion from long ago. February 22 to be exact ...

When it comes to spending time with my beer invasion buddies I will make almost any sacrifice to make it happen.

Not like my own kids or anything - I consider them pretty special; even sacred - but the rent money, the neighbour's kids, my self-esteem; all that's on the table.

But there comes a time when you have to admit defeat, and I was almost at that point in my efforts to get away for KingstonBeerFam2020, a highly anticipated event on my social calendar for a lot of reasons, most notably because a ton of my friends would be there.

There would be a bus to take us to all the beery fun our first capital city had to offer, lunch and dinner would be provided and Josh Hayter, fast becoming one of Kingston's favourite sons, would be there, so it was guaranteed to be, as us old people like to say, 'lit!'

Super lit, even.

The whole gang at Daft Brewing. Photo courtesy of Ryan - the head
brewer - with camera supplied by Candice

But there were obstacles in my path and once one obstacle was cleared another would rise up to meet me.

The first stumbling block was my health, as my knee surgery was six weeks prior to the event. But I had finally started to take my physio seriously so I was confident the walking and the standing and the sitting wouldn't be a concern. But the second obstacle - money - was proving to be somewhat more troublesome.

I had to extend my rent payments (and had to borrow off my Dad to do so) because my impending move was delayed and my first EI cheque had only just arrived, so the trip was looking dicey.

Also: no credit card.

I had a plan, though, and it involved me driving to Kingston to meet the party bus and my friends midway through the day and driving home to Oshawa the same night. It wouldn't be perfect but at least I would be able to see my pals and visit a few breweries.

And then my Oshawa peeps came through for me.

Jeff messaged me after he read about my scheme. "I don't know what your plan is, but Candice said you're coming to Kingston, so I'm here to tell you that you're coming to Kingston. Cal is renting the room so don't worry. We'll fit you in."

I still had questions but damn the torpedos, full speed ahead and all that, and on Saturday morning Jeff, Candice, Jamie and myself squeezed into Cal's truck and we headed to Kingston, arriving in plenty of time to check into the Delta, toss our stuff in our rooms (no couch to be found - this could be interesting) and hop on the bus.

Lots of familiar faces for me and a few new ones as well. There would have been a bigger turnout, our host informed me, but the rail blockade that was front and centre in the news at the time had prevented those who were coming in by train from attending.

One day I'll get Jordan St. John to autograph the book he sent me. One day.

Jeff and Josh enjoying a beer at Stone City. If you
look closely you will see I captured a
unicorn: Josh actually smiling

In addition to the five-person Oshawa contingent, there was my Oakville Beer Bros Don and Greg; Graeme (King City); Curtis and Nichole (Guelph); Matt (Ottawa); Waller Street Brewing's April and Chuck (also Ottawa); Paul (Newmarket); David (Hamilton-ish); our hosts Josh (President) and Amanda (Marketing Manager) from Spearhead Brewing; and Stephanie and Miranda, who Josh shanghaied from the Delta Hotel.

And John, the Bus Driver Extraordinaire.

The first stop was Daft Brewing, one of the new kids on Kingston's brewing block. Like, they've been open three weeks kinda new. These guys have re-purposed an old 5-bay garage and turned it into an open-concept space with a huge horseshoe-shaped bar at one end and the brewery at the other, with some cool artwork on the far wall.

They like to experiment at Daft, and I enjoyed a Spruce Sour, an Oat Dirty Bastard and a True Level Gose while Ryan, the Head Brewer, took us through a little of the brewery's long and storied history from his perch in the rafters. His vantage point made for a great picture too, as you see can from the above image.

Next up was Stone City Ales, and if Daft is a newbie, Stone City is a veteran of the local scene, with a history of producing brews like 12 Star Session Ale and Windward Belgian Wheat since they opened shop downtown in 2014.

(In fact, Stone City was at the first Durham Craft Beer Festival in '14, where my pal Steve, who drank macro if he was drinking beer at all, fell in love with the Windward Wheat. But I digress.)

The English pub decor at Kingston Brewing

Head Brewer Richard was on hand to greet our unruly crew and we got to sample a wide range of beers this day. There was Counterpoint Farmhouse Ale, Brood & Bloom Sour (Blackberry & Raspberry), Unchartered IPA and Nocturnal Dark Czech Pilsner.

And some Distant Origin dry-hopped IPA to go as well.

And then we were back on the bus, with our next stop just down the street and around the corner: Kingston Brewing.

This is billed as Ontario's oldest brewpub (1986) and it's set in a building that at least a century older than that so there's a lot of history in this place. The walls are adorned with memorabilia, giving it that old English pub feel, and the whole place just oozes charm.

Our gang was shepherded upstairs - because we're special -  and we were offered flights of their finest ales, including Dragon's Breath English Pale Ale and their double dry-hopped IPA. A few thirsty travellers opted for beers from their extensive guest tap list as well.

The beer was excellent and co-owner and Brewmaster Braden beguiled us with tantalizing tales of brewing lore, but the highlight of the visit came after Braden ordered the smokers downstairs fired up and subsequently brought us lunch.

And not just any lunch, but brisket, and fall-off-the-bone ribs, and macaroni 'n cheese to die for and I feared (briefly) that one of us actually did. I had two plates of food but before I could feel shame I saw that most of our party did as well. Paul was on his third when I noticed the tell-tale sign of a meat coma on his face and was about to intervene when he reminded me that he was a professional and I needn't concern myself.

Still, some of us had to be rolled out of there and down the stairs (ouch!) and back into the bus because we still had more drinking to do, with Riverhead Brewery next on the agenda.

Head Brewer Aaron gave us the brewery tour (and a fine glass of Tropical IPA) and it was a good thing we were segregated from the rest of the crowd because the big room was a dangerous place that day. Seemed a hockey tournament was in town and that meant a mini-stick competition was in full swing and if you know anything about nine year-olds playing mini-sticks, you know 'full swing' is to be taken literally.

Safely in the brewhouse, we got a lesson in brewing from Aaron (Graeme, one of our homebrewers, was right in his wheelhouse here) while I absently played with some ancient-looking bottle opener that was apparently worth $75.

I didn't try to steal it, Aaron. I swear.

Skeleton Park Brewery was our penultimate stop on the tour, and like everything else in Kingston, it has a bit of history attached to it.

Named for a nearby park that began its life as a burial ground for immigrant labourers, the brewery is owned by a man whose family has been brewing - or bootlegging - for three generations, and it was Trevor who gave us the speech on Kingston's brewing traditions and gave us the run-down on the beers on tap.

I went for their Best Bitter - I bought some to go as well - because it's a style we don't see very often and I love me some Bitters and ESBs.

With Skeleton Park complete, that only left one brewery on the itinerary. There might be some debate to say we left the best for last, but there is no argument that Spearhead Brewing, home of Josh, our host with the most, is the biggest.

It's not close, actually. Spearhead is huuuge and sports $5 million in custom-made brewing equipment that produced close to a million litres of beer last year.

Not all of that beer is Spearhead brew, which means the brewery, which started life in 2011 as a contract brewer, has come full circle and is now producing beer for others.

Josh had put on a buffet feed for us when we arrived but most of us were still stuffed from lunch so we ignored it. We were more eager to get a beer in our hands - Hawaiian Pale Ale for me - and a tour of this shiny new brewery.

"Who likes our shiny new tanks," asked Jacob on the Spearhead tour.
"I need a show of hands."

That's when Jacob stepped in and introduced himself. The Head Brewer at Spearhead, Jacob has a lot more experience than his late 20s-something eyes would have you believe, and he comes by it honestly. His dad, Tomas, spent three decades as a Brewmaster for Labatt before coming out of retirement to take the same fancy title for Spearhead.

There are whispers that Jacob does most of the work, Jacob whispered as he gave us a tour of the facility (which actually has room for future expansion), but whatever the arrangement, it seems to be working as the place is operating near 90 per cent efficiency.

Not a hundred per cent sure what that means, but it sounded impressive.

With the tour complete, all that was left was spend an hour or two enjoying each other's company, making sure John's tip jar was full and watching some cool Kingston cats - dressed to impress - invade the place for a blues show inside the brewhouse. Chicago Blues Hall of Famers Maurice John Vaughan and John Watkins (and friends) were in the house, and all was right this night with Spearhead Brewing.

Probably time to take us back to the hotel, someone told John, and that's when I spotted the buffet.

"There's food? Hang on a sec, John. All of a sudden I'm hungry."

***

You'd think after all that beer consumption we'd be in a hurry for our beds but there was the matter of the after-party. Because there's always an after-party, and this night it was in April & Chuck's room, which was a good thing because they brought lots of Waller Street Brewing swag. And by swag I mean beer. And by beer I mean their award-winning (award presented by me) Black IIPA.

Is there a finer Doorman than this man?

But first I had to sort out my sleeping arrangements, because at that point I had a pot to piss in but I didn't have a bed to sleep in. "There seems to be a misunderstanding," I said hopefully to the desk clerk at the Delta. "Do you have a cot or something for me?"

The answer was no, but the helpful clerk did offer to deliver two sets of extra bedding to our room, which sounded promising but proved to under-deliver on that promise. Beggars can't be choosers, I guess.

The party in April's room was in full swing when the Oshawa crew arrived and I made sure to snag a few bottles of the Black IIPA to go before settling in to watch the end of what turned out to be a historic hockey game.

This was the game both Carolina Hurrican goalies were hurt and the team had to use the Leaf's emergency back-up, a 42 year-old part-time Zamboni driver named David Ayres who rightly earned his moment in the sun - he dominated social media and even did the talk show circuit for at least a week - by beating (not to mention embarrassing) his employers in a 6-3 Carolina win.

By then the party was starting to fizzle out and after suffering our first casualty - Jamie had to be dragged from his resting spot at the end of April's bed to his own room across the hall - we called it a night.

The hotel manager was getting a little nervous anyway, though someone down the hall magically produced a puppy and everything was peachy again at the Delta.

It was a perfect day in Kingston in fact, with six breweries showcasing their hospitality to the world, or at least to a busload of freeloaders beer lovers who more than appreciated their efforts.

Shout-out to Josh and Amanda at Spearhead for organizing this event, the Delta for putting us up and putting up with us, Tourism Kingston and Kingston Economic Development for sponsoring lunch and dinner, to John and McCoy Bus Service for shuttling us around in style and to everyone else involved who made KingstonBeerFam 2020 an unforgettable day.

Thank you.

This tale was from a month ago but seems much longer, what with everything that has happened in the interim. A busload of people going from brewery to brewery these days would be dangerous and downright criminal as we fight to prevent the spread of Covid-19, which has already killed more than a thousand people worldwide and affected hundreds of thousands more.

The actions we take today - self-isolation, social distancing - are necessary to flatten the curve and save lives but they are devastating our economy and putting the future of many small businesses at risk. Breweries are no different and all six we visited in Kingston last month could find themselves out of business if this pandemic goes on much longer. So please continue to spend money at local businesses or your favourite brewery if you can. Most breweries deliver so you don't even have to leave your homes to get delicious, Ontario-made beer sent right to your door.

Stay safe, stay home, wash your hands and we will get through this together.

Peace.

Covid-19, Border Collies and Badlands 

Writing is difficult at the best of times, though I can't recall any best of times recently.

There have been moments, of course, but I was always too busy enjoying those fleeting bursts of wonder to write about them, and when it came time to do what I've done for more than half my life, things got ... in the way.

The past year has been particularly tough, what with a financial crisis, bouts of depression and, most recently, my knee replacement. Still, I've managed to write two blogs in 2020, both chronicling my surgery and my impending move from Oshawa to horse country in King City, where the fresh air and a re-connection to nature were supposed to re-discover the spark that has been missing in my life.

Things are never so simple for me, of course, and I'm now ensconced in my parent's basement in north Toronto while waiting for the property to become available. End of next week is the latest deadline, though my brother is doing the negotiating and while I love him dearly, his word hasn't always been his bond.

So I wait in my childhood home, helping Dad get the basement cleaned out (except for my stuff) and prepped for the day when he sells the house and brings Mom to join us on the King City property.

That's the plan, anyway, but as we're not actually on the farm as I write this, the whole deal could still go south and that would truly suck for all of us.

I'm on EI as I rehab from the surgery so I have plenty of time on my hands, so I made an attempt to write about my Kingston BeerFam weekend and even got a few paragraphs in, but I found it hard to write about a glorious time with friends when Covid-19 officially became a pandemic and swept the globe, canceling almost everything in its wake and sending panicked citizens into local stores to stockpile toilet paper, of all things.

The Coronavirus, or Covid-19

From television newscasts to social media, the impact the virus now has on the global community is immeasurable, and we are told daily about school and business closures; reminded about the importance of hand-washing and taught new phrases, such as self-isolation and social distancing.

Not to mention the importance of being kind. I could stand to hear more about that.

So I worry.

At 60, I suppose I am considered somewhat vulnerable, but I ate enough dirt as a child to build up a pretty good immune system, so I don't worry about myself at all, really. But my parents - both 87 - are a different story. Dad is still strong and as he takes all the necessary precautions I am not terribly concerned about him. But Mom, who suffers from Alzheimer's, is rather frail and most definitely immunocompromised and I'd be lying if I didn't worry about her catching the virus.

So I do all the right things and we basically self-isolate and watch wall-to-wall Covid-19 coverage until we are desperate for something less depressing. Dad turns to BBC documentaries and murder mysteries and I go downstairs to my laptop and see social media posts about hoarding toilet paper before turning to Netflix for salvation.

Any escape is short-lived as my attention span is down to about 15 minutes so when I woke up Saturday morning I decided I needed to get the hell out of the house. Maybe go for a drive; maybe take a spin up to King City and see this mysterious property myself.

Hitting up a new brewery could be in the cards as well, and when I found Badlands Brewery on the map, I knew I struck gold. I had been hearing great things about Badlands - which is open just five hours a week, adding to the mystique - but the best part was this farm brewery in Caledon was off King Road, the very road (albeit 40 minutes to the east) that takes me to the King City estate.

The Badlands bottle shop

It was an easy 35-minute drive from home up the 410 and at 11:45 - fifteen minutes before opening - I found myself joining a line of cars parked on the side of Chinguacousy Road. It was one of those blustery days A.A. Milne used to write about and I was among the first handful of people in line for the bottle shop, which is just a shed that has only a few cows for company the other six days of the week.

And Nelly too. The resident farm dog, Nelly is a Border Collie who quickly adopted me as we waited for the noon opening bell, coming in for a quick scritch before returning with a ball and daring me to take it from her.

Now I am not inexperienced at this game and I know all the tricks; from lifting the dog off her front legs to the gentle but firm neck twist method. But I was losing this battle and after more than five minutes of struggle I admitted defeat and Nelly ran off with her prize to see if anyone else was worthy.

My fellow linemates had some fun with the battle and that's when I found out the people lined up on this windy Saturday were here every weekend like it was a secret club. Most people seemed to know each other and greeted each new addition to the line - it had stretched to more than two dozen by the time noon rolled around - like old friends.

Two minutes later my old friend Nelly returned, having failed to find a worthy opponent, ready for round two.

So the battle resumed, only this time I managed to wrestle the ball away from her after a short struggle. I know she let me win.

Delicious Badlands beer

Ten minutes later I was up at the window ordering two of everything, including a couple of Provocative IPAs, a beer that was leftover from the previous weekend, and that's what I ordered when I entered the tap room, which is an old bus parked on the grass in front of one of the barns.

Damn! That beer was dynamite! So good I ordered a second 12-oz cup, which was about the same time the bus started filling up, making the social distance thing I was attempting difficult to pull off. So I finished my beer - so good - and headed back to my car, confident in the notion (provided the virus doesn't shut down EVERYTHING next week) that I would be back.

Maybe I'll even join the secret club.

Forty minutes later I was seeing the King City farm for the first time; which wasn't a farm at all but a group of houses and a fancy-pants stables - all surrounded by an enclave of multi-million dollar estate homes. There were still For Sale signs around the property - which was not as surprising as you'd think - and a No Trespassing sign at the entrance, which was partially blocked by a half-open gate.

I ignored the sign and drove through the grounds, taking a close look at the house I am supposed to live in and even stopping to peek through the window at the stables. The property was deserted. No cars. No people. I have no idea what that means, though I heard from Dad when I returned home there are still some legal obstacles before my brother can take occupancy.

That is nothing new and if you know my brother, not a shocker either.

Fingers crossed, I guess.

***

I was out on a shopping expedition yesterday - toilet paper and kleenex were on the list - and I was curious to see what it was like in the stores. The last time I went out shopping was before people went bat-shit crazy and I found the customers civil, if a bit nervous about being in close proximity to other humans.

I struck out at Blue Sky (except for some shrimp), found kleenex at No Frills and was in the line at Dollarama - no toilet paper to be found - when a woman came into the store, bypassing the line and going straight to one of the check-out girls.

She was very obviously suffering from an intellectual disability and appeared to be asking for surgical masks and got agitated when she was told there were none and was asked to leave. The young lady at the till then called for the next customer - which was me - and then waved her arms helplessly when the woman screamed that she needed masks.

The other staffer told her there would be more tomorrow, which only prompted the woman to scream again.

So I very gently told her the masks would be in tomorrow.

She quieted down and looked at me for the first time.

"They'll be in tomorrow," I said softly.

She nodded at me and left the store and we all went back to our business.

Whatever you do out there, be kind. Always be kind

Peace.