Destination Idaho Falls, Idaho

Living in Oregon, it’s easy to forget that Idaho is also part of the Pacific Northwest. Driving from Portland to the eastern boarder and into Idaho is a roughly 380 mile trip that takes more than six hours by car (if you obey the speed limits). On a quest for more craft beer flavor, I was easily persuaded by my friend Shawn Kelso to visit Idaho Falls to serve as a beer judge at the 2010 North American Beer Awards (NABA) . Four days of qualifying almost 1,200 entries seemed daunting yet exciting. Perhaps the most anticipated part of the excursion would be the Mountain Brewers Beer Fest (MBBF) that would follow the days of judging. MBBF boasts being the most attended one-day festival in the country, and draws more crowds in a single day than any other fest shy of the Great American Beer Festival in Denver. Now in it’s 16th year, this giant celebration of beer, has grown form 22 breweries to more than 100. Declared by Idaho’s governor as a “Beer and Brewing Day,” the event happens each year in June, and since its inception, has outgrown two venues. Now, since 2001, MBBF has been held at the spacious Sandy Downs on the southern outskirts of Idaho Falls. The grounds feature  a race track with wide open views of distant imposing mountains create a perfect festival environment.

My friend, Shawn, also the brewer at Barley Brown’s Brewpub in Baker City, Oregon, was no stranger to this fest and had done quite well in the past with his beers at NABA, taking home more than 30 medals in four years. It was on Shawn’s recommendation to both myself and  NABA judge coordinator, Bob Beckwith, that I became involved with one of the most interesting, educational, and entertaining beer-related weeks of my life.

A mostly mountainous state within storied The Rockies, Idaho is of substantial size, ranked at 11 of the 50 (Oregon is 10th; Idaho is slightly larger than neighboring Utah and larger than than all of the New England states combined). Idaho’s population is a different story than its massive expanse. With just over 1.54 million people, Idaho ranks 39th out of 5o states in this department. Vast pastel high desert glacially  formed hills and porous shrub-cover lava flows roll up rigid landscapes to  snow-capped high mountain peaks making Idaho easily one of the most beautiful spaces in North America, if not the world.

Though a little skeptical of setting off for nearly a week toward Idaho Falls, I finally figured out a plan that would make it feasible. There was no way in hell I was going to make the entire trek by car. You see, getting to Idaho is one thing, but that’s just over half the distance to Idaho Falls from Portland. I’ve made long car trips and monumental road trips as well, but even so, by car, Idaho Falls is still more than 5 hours from the Oregon border (again, if you adhere to the speed limit), meaning that the total drive, not counting breaks for gas, food, and sanity, is roughly 11 or 12 hours. So, I booked a flight into Boise. Though only 420 miles from Portland by way of Interstate 84, by airplane Idaho’s largest city was a mere hour away. From Boise, Shawn would pick me up and I’d make the remaining four-plus hour drive by car (Baker City where Shawn lives is about two hours from Boise).

Arriving at the Portland airport at about 9:30 a.m., I survived the annoying airport checkpoints and set up camp at one of Laurelwood’s pubs of PDX International right next to my gate. By 10:30 a.m. I was finished with a breakfast pint of Spaced Stout and ready to adhere to my section’s boarding announcement. The plane departed around 11 a.m. and soon after I was treated to a complimentary glass of Redhook Copperhook Ale. Life was good and the hops were aromatic and the malt was crisp. Before I could sneeze, what would have been a grueling drive dissipated into a quick quaff.

Shortly after touching down in Boise, Shawn picked me up and we took me to a brewery in town I’d been wanting to visit for a while. Sockeye Brewing was the home of brewer Josh King’s boisterously hopped brews. Here, after a tour of Sockeye’s cozy 7-barrel brewhouse, we enjoyed a delicious lunch matched with an assortment of artisan brews. On tap, Sockeye poured a Dagger Falls IPA, an insanely hopped Precocious IMperial Pale aka P.I.M.P., and an even more insane Hopnoxious Imperial IPA. In addition to these lupulin goliaths, I was able to enjoy their Pi Tripel, Galena Summit Kolsch, and a test taste of a powerfully complex Bavarian Hefe Rauch. With melding flavors of banana clove and smoked malt, this brew was undeniably refreshing yet robust.

Time was of the essence and since crossing into the Mountain timezone, an extra hour had slipped through our fingers. We had to make it to the first rounds of beer judging by 7 p.m., and it was now almost 3 p.m. with a four-plus hour ride ahead of us (again, provided we oblige the speed limitations). So, we reluctantly yet anticipatively pulled ourselves away from the Sockeye Brewpub, their amiable staff and uniquely palatable brews, and shot off into the eastern horizon toward Idaho Falls.

For many miles and many minutes, nothing but seemingly repetitive beauty rolled past us. In some ways it was reminiscent of a trip I made to Iceland yet with slightly more pronounced vegetation. It seemed like ions before a rest area would be found to relieve us of Sockeye’s bounties. Discouragingly the surgically clean rest area’s three vending machines, for some strange reason, would not accept our currency. It wasn’t until we reached a gas station on the Shashone-Bannock Tribes Reservation that we were finally at liberty to enjoy a spot of hydrating water (future note: pack lots of water for this drive).

After a long drive from Boise, at last made it to Idaho Falls, Idaho just a few minutes past 7 p.m. Shawn introduced me to Bob Beckwith, as he was greeted by many of the perennial faces of the fest. “You gonna save any medals for the rest of us this year?” one brewer joked rhetorically.

Most of the flights had already been assigned for this truncated first day of judging, so Shawn and I were both placed on  table where carbonated soft drinks and non-alcoholic brews were the first two tickets. After eight different super sweet beverages, my head was spinning from a sugar high. Then, we delved into a short flight of “near beers” that was something like trying to award good Samaritan badges to a group of convicts (well, that’s probably a bad analogy). After this short introduction to NABA judging, the group was dismissed for the night around 9 p.m.

Shawn and I were pretty tired from traveling all day, but after an hour settling in to our hotel room at the downtown Red Lion, figured we’d scope out the town a bit. By now it was past 10 p.m. and downtown on a Tuesday night was without a pulse. So, we did as any blue blooded American would and parked ourselves at the closest Appleby’s where we were welcomed to the neighborhood. The craft beer line-up here consisted of Widmer Hefe, New Belgium Fat Tire, and Blue Moon White. Well, at very least, we were pleased to see Oregon representing the otherwise macro market well with their flagship hefeweizen. The only dinner I had on this night was the lemons I removed from my crisp and quenching American wheat ale.

After shooting the breeze and unwinding some, Shawn and I retired to our room to rest up for the first of three consecutive 9 a.m. judgings.

To be continued…