The Corona Diaries Vol. 112: My timing was off

(late September 2023)

(Watch the prelude.)

With plans for an autumn trip to London once again put on hold due to my Frau's medical issues, I turned to my old standby and devised a trek up north for some hiking. While I would return to my beloved Chippewa Moraine Nature State Recreation Area and its majestic kettle lakes, I began the trip with a visit to Beaver Creek Reserve up by Eau Claire.

Beaver Creek Reserve is a camp that provides environmental education for area youth along with hiking trails for those of us that have graduated to adulthood. It’s a bit like the Aldo Leopold Nature Center here in the Madison area but set out in the countryside of west central Wisconsin, some 15 miles east of Eau Claire.

I had timed my trip in the hope that the trees would be well along in their annual change in color but I was a bit early. On trips up north in the earlier part of September it seemed that the fall colors had only begun to appear. And then a visit in the latter half of October proved to have been very much on the downswing of the change. I figured a trek right in the middle would have been perfect but Mother Nature (and perhaps global climate change) had other plans.

And so, while the trees remained mostly green, it was only just. There was still a fair amount of autumnal hues to be had, thankfully.

I had randomly pulled into the northern part of the reserve and found a school bus from Osseo and a bunch of gaggle of kids who looked to be 5th or 6th graders. I did my level best to avoid them. Finding the nearest trailhead, I happily set my course away from the screaming schoolchildren. They seemed to be having fun so more power to them. For my part, though, I simply wanted some quiet, in addition to the great scenery.

I eventually found myself walking along a creek that I think is Deinhammer Creek. Presumably Beaver Creek was to be found elsewhere on the property.

It was overcast but mild and so I didn’t complain too much when forced to walk through the creek in order to get to a set of stairs set on the hillside.

The lovely scenery continued.

After a while I came to a sign indicating that I was leaving Beaver Creek Reserve and was headed towards Big Falls, an Eau Claire County park. Before long I caught sight of the Eau Claire River.

It was just a few minutes before I heard a faint rumble in front of me. With every step the roar of what I presumed to be Big Falls grew louder until I was standing next to it.

Not the biggest of falls, I agree, but it was pretty and those rapids would surely capsize any canoe I was in.

The rather large outcrops of stone that I walked on were littered with smaller rocks.

I have tried to lookup what type of rock this is but have failed. One site said that the rocks at Big Falls are “Precambrian amphibolite gneisses and schists” but, when I look up “gneisses” and “schists”, I see pictures that don’t resemble mine. On the other hand, Precambrian means old. And I’m not talking Joe Biden old. These rocks were formed many millions of years ago, if not billions. Brazil and Nigeria may still have been part of the same land mass. Strange plants were providing shade for the first animals ever on Earth – our (extremely) distant cousins.

It boggles the mind to contemplate something that ancient.

After taking in Big Falls for a while, I headed back the way I came.

Back at the trailhead, I walked around Hobbs Observatory.

Someday, or some night, rather, I will have to return and check out the observatory. It houses 2 telescopes: a 24-inch Newtonian reflector telescope and a Meade LX200 14-inch Schmidt Cassegrain. With much less light pollution than down here in Madison, there must be some fine star gazing there, telescope or not.

I am reminded of the final night I spent at my dad’s house before moving down to Madison to start college. A friend came over and he and I spent the night with my father throwing back a few adult beverages on the patio and shooting the bull. The sky was marvelous. Being out in the country meant exponentially more stars were visible to us than in a city. Plus there was a full moon, or nearly so. To top things off, the Milky Way was out as well. It was as if the night sky was bidding me a fond farewell as I prepared to plunge headlong into adulthood. Or at least into life as a college student which, I suppose, is not exactly adulthood.

After wandering around the observatory, I drove across the road to the southern part of the reserve and found myself before the Wise Nature Center. Stepping inside, I was confronted by a life-sized diorama of a tree and its various animal friends.

The nature center proved to be really neat with the learning area having various exhibits dedicated to both flora and fauna.

Eau Claire means “clear water” in French and the area was home to many a French fur trader back in the day. And so it is only fitting to have a display of various animal pelts.

We generally think of skunks as being nasty, stinky critters and raccoons to be annoyances that try to rifle through our garbage. But, take it from me, they have some very soft fur.

And being the Badger State, there had to be one of them on display.

This one’s open mouth could be interpreted as a friendly grin but that would belie what vicious little bastards they are. Those claws are more representative of the badger’s demeanor. I have only ever run into our state animal once and I hope to never again. We got hissed at, were given threatening looks, and otherwise was told our presence was not wanted.

There were a few live animals to be found including this turtle who looked like he could use a bigger home.

If memory serves, there was a sign saying that new digs were in the works.

Another exhibit taught visitors how to identify the signs left behind by animals on their excursions – by both prints and poop!

For instance, here’s how to ID the signs raccoons leave (from their) behind(s). Get it?

This one for beavers gave me visions of a Caddyshack-like experience the next time I find myself in a creek or river.

Sadly, not all environmental education involves fun as you learn about various critters and plants, as this display on endangered species showed.

It was disheartening to see one so close to home in Dane County.

With my hike being done, it was back to Osseo for a shower and some muscle relaxant at the Northwoods Brewpub. Always one to drink seasonally, I ordered an Oktoberfest.

It wasn’t great, let’s say that. The body was a bit thin and there were some stray phenols that gave it a hefeweizen taste. The follow-up, a brown ale, was much better.

I got back to my hotel room only to receive word that my youngest stepson’s father had been diagnosed with some form of blood cancer. A lousy way to end an otherwise wonderful day. I felt terribly for them both. Earlier in the month the kid's girlfriend had broken up with him and he'd been unceremoniously kicked out of their apartment in Eau Claire. On my way home I was to stop by there and grab as much of his stuff as my car could fit. I texted him saying that I was sorry to hear the news and that I loved him.

Wanting to change my now sullen mood, I picked up the book that I had been reading, Death in Fine Condition by Andrew Cartmel. I adored his Vinyl Detective series which chronicles the adventures of the titular hero, a vinyl record afficionado. For The Vinyl Detective, Cartmel took Dashiell Hammett's Continental Op, de-hard-boiled him, and then threw him into Agatha Christie-like ensemble situations. We never learn his name.

In each book, he and his ladyfriend, Nevada, are tasked with finding an extremely rare record and all sorts of intrigue and mayhem ensue. Here, the heroine is Cordelia, an impecunious lover and collector of paperbacks. She is usually late on paying her rent but strangely timely when it comes to procuring marijuana. One day at her dealer's home, Cordelia notices a photo on the wall of a couple people posing next to a bookcase filled with what appears to be a complete set of Sleuth Hound paperbacks.

She seeks out the books and purloins them only to discover that their owner is a fellow named Colin Cutterham who happens to be the leader of the local chapter of organized crime. Peril ensues.

While Cordelia is entertaining and certainly a very capable stoner, there's just something missing, something to really endear her to me that just isn't here. I think that a big part of this is that, while The Vinyl Detective would have fun conversations with a cast of goofy people, Cordelia's chats are more serious. Or, if not serious, just more banal. And Cartmel overcompensates for this by making a fair amount of Cordelia's internal monologues overwrought with metaphor and clever allusions.

Death in Fine Condition is still a fun read, but it lacks the magic of The Vinyl Detective novels for me.

********

Bonus photo. Here’s Grabby at her first vet visit after we adopted her.

 

 

(Now listen to the postlude.)

What's In a Beer Name Anyway?

I recently came across the new label design for Great Lakes Brewing Company's Edmund Fitzgerald Porter. In contrast to the previous one, the picture looks more foreboding, more perilous, which it certainly was for the ship and its crew on that day in 1975 when it sank. Regardless of the label's exact appearance, I have always appreciated the Great Lakes/Upper Midwestern reference. Our world is becoming increasingly homogeneous and I appreciate things that are local and idiosyncratic - reflective of the place from which they originate, even if it's something simple like a beer name or label. Those of us in the middle of the country do not need to follow each and every trend from the coasts.

Great Lakes Brewing took a regional outlook when naming their porter. The Edmund Fitzgerald went down in Lake Superior in either Michigan or Canadian waters, I cannot recall which, not in Lake Erie on Cleveland's north side. Nonetheless, seeing the label got me thinking about beer labels that celebrate place, that do a little something to illustrate the ortgeist of the brewery's community. 

I suspect that I initially noticed this kind of thing several years ago with Goose Island before they were absorbed by the A-B InBev Borg. They offered 312 Urban Wheat and Green Line Pale Ale.

312 is the area code for downtown Chicago while Green Line is one of the L train lines which apparently ran near the original Goose Island location. 

As for Wisconsin labels, it seems that many a brewery draws on imagery from the state. Northwoods Brewpub has, for example, Wall-I-PA named after the fish popular in northern parts of the state, although it is found in the northern part of the U.S. generally. New Glarus has the ubiquitous Spotted Cow, Back 40, Uff Da, and probably others. However, I don't believe New Glarus has ever had a beer named after something or someone from New Glarus and I am unaware of any Northwoods brews that owe their names to Osseo or its previous home, Eau Claire. Of breweries that take that kind of hyperlocal naming to heart, Milwaukee Brewing Company is first to my mind. Well, perhaps not their labels exclusively, but also their packaging.

For instance there was Increase Wheat.

It was named after Increase Lapham who moved to Milwaukee in 1836 and cataloged the plants in the area and the shells he found on the shores of Lake Michigan. He founded the Wisconsin Natural History Association and was Chief Geologist of the State of Wisconsin for a time.

Another one of their beers that comes readily to mind is their milk stout, Polish Moon, which is the nickname of the Allen-Bradley clock tower on Milwaukee's south side which was heavily Polish.

More recently the design for MKE IPA feature the "People's Flag of Milwaukee", presumably a response to the city's official flag which is rather busy and gaudy.

Also from Milwaukee is Lakefront's Eastside Dark which features the gothic stylings of the North Point Water Tower.

A bit west of Milwaukee in Lake Mills is the Tyranena Brewing Company. They do a good job of reflecting Wisconsin in their beer names and labels. But they also aren't afraid to showcase the Lake Mills area. For instance, there was Stone Teepee Pale Ale whose label featured the supposed stone pyramids in Rock Lake which is on the west side of town.

The Madison area doesn't seem to exactly have a surfeit of beers with names that relate to it. We do, however, have Ale Asylum's Madtown Nut Brown.

Now why Burke and Hare seem to be on the label is beyond me. Or is there some Madison lore depicted on it of which I am unaware?

Wisconsin Brewing has Badger Club, which is named after the official state animal, and Boom Run, a nod to the lumber industry - up north. Capital Brewery has Supper Club in honor of the state's unique culinary establishment.

On the other hand, Great Dane's German Pils was, I believe, once known as Verrückte Stadt, i.e. - Mad Town. Peck's Pilsner is named after the proprietor of Madison's first public house, Rosaline Peck. Rockhound Brewing (R.I.P.) had Greenbush Pale Ale, named after the neighborhood they resided in.

The Madison area's four lakes, State Street, the "lost city" of Lake Forest, flamingos, Frank Lloyd Wright**, the Capitol, et al provide plenty of fodder for beer monikers. But Madison area breweries generally eschew the local when it comes to beer names and labeling. Or is there some kind of Babcock beer with lactose that I've simply never seen? A hibiscus brew with pink flamingos on the label that has escaped me? Am I completely missing beer upon beer named after local places and people?

**My understanding is that Madison's House of Brews (R.I.P.) tried to use something FLW-related in a beer name and discovered his family was not keen on this.

A Confluence of Fine Flavors from Eau Claire: Rowdy Rye from Northwoods Brewpub

The Northwoods Brewpub up in Eau Claire recently announced that it is pulling up stakes and moving to Osseo, about 20 miles south. The new facility means more room to brew more beer and also a venture into the world of distilling. The food side of the business is being deemphasized and the brewpub is presumably severing its connection to The Norske Nook. Fans of lefse and pie can take solace knowing that Osseo is home to the ur-Norske Nook so, while you won't be able to get your lefse wrap in the same building, it will be available down the street.

When the brewpub opened back in 1997, it was, to the best of my knowledge, the first microbrewing venture in Eau Claire in the nine or so years since Hibernia Brewing closed. (Hibernia was the first brewery I ever toured, well before I was of legal drinking age, sadly.) Northwoods caused something of a sensation in 2010, at least for old timers in the western part of the state, when they began brewing Walter's, a brand thought lost to the ages in the mid-80s when the brewery closed and became Hibernia. A friend who attended college in Eau Claire in the 80s confirmed that nouveau Walter's tastes just as bad as the original.

Northwoods doesn't seem to get much love in the craft beer world of Wisconsin. I put this down to limited distribution (e.g. - Woodman's East no longer carries their brew which is where I always saw it) and the stigma of the lack of a year-round IPA. (At least according to their website and my memory.) This being the case, the brewery is expanding which makes me wonder where the beer is being sold. The Twin Cities, perhaps?

The Wikipedia article on Hibernia Brewing features a quote from Hibernia's president Mike Healy: "The worst mistake I ever made was trying to sell the beer in rural areas." How well does craft beer do in northern Wisconsin? My impression is that it doesn't do very well.

Valkyrie Brewing up in Dallas (about 50 miles north of Eau Claire) sold most of its beer in the state largest metros. Brewmaster/owner Randy Lee told Robin Shepard "About 80% of our production is going to Madison and Milwaukee." Black Husky up in Pembine faces a similar dilemma, although it will be resolved soon when the brewery moves to Milwaukee. Brewmaster Tim Eichinger told the Wisconsin State Journal's Beer Baron, "Up here you don’t get a whole lot of craft beer." Furthermore the Baron notes that the vast majority of retailers that carry Eichinger's beers are in Madison and Milwaukee.

Then again Spotted Cow is ubiquitous and Capital Amber was almost everywhere I went the last time I was in rural northern Wisconsin. There are brewpubs/breweries in Florence, Hayward, Somerset, Menominee, and Superior. But northern Wisconsin is home to most of the counties with the highest unemployment rates in the state. What impact do tourists have? It would be interesting to find out how much beer O'so and Central Waters sell in Portage County and environs.

I am going to cease the arcadian speculation now because I have come to praise beer from up nort, not to bury it.

Today we have Northwood's Rowdy Rye. I bought it at the brewery (are their beers still available in Madison?) where there are refrigerated six packs as well single bottles to assemble one's own. I was in Eau Claire to attend a wedding which had a trailer with three or four taps of Northwoods' brews so I drank a fair amount of their beer that weekend.

Rowdy Rye is light amber in color. The beer was hazy yet still pretty. My pour gave me a fairly dark tan head of about ¼". There were a few stray bubbles going up. My nose caught the rye first. I absolutely love rye – in beer as well as in bread. I'm trying to convince various companies to add it to toothpaste, deodorant, toilet paper, and muslin. (Without success, I must admit.) I mean, what would you rather armpits smell like on a hot summer day: "sport" as conceived by some poindexter chemist who was beaten up in high school by the football team or the lovely spiciness of rye? (And so I remain contented with beer and bread.)

After the sharp, spicy rye aroma came, alas, butter. It would seem this bottle was inflicted by diacetyl. The buttery scent was moderate at first and became less prominent with successive sniffs which also picked up a little bit of fruity sweetness – think apricots and dates – plus a hint of citrus. Rowdy Rye's grain bill is 42% rye and so the massive cloud of spicy rye that permeated my dining room was to be expected. It is also brewed with Cascade hops which probably gave the citrus note on the nose.

The taste was similar to the aroma with rye and its sharp black peppery flavor out front. Thankfully the diacetyl was subdued here with only a slight buttery flavor present. Carbonation offered a little bite and some dryness. I was surprised at how clean the beer tasted. I think this was because all those fruity esters were overpowered by sharper, less sweet flavors. A little bit of malt sweetness in the background and some citrus zing from the hops complemented the rye's dominance.

I was also surprised at how lager-like the finish was. It was rather dry with the rye spiciness and a mild earthy hop bitterness taking their final bows before shuffling off. My glass ended up with some pretty good lacing. Long, narrow bands of foam lined the glass.

I had Rowdy Rye prior to drinking this bottle and I caught no butter aroma or flavor. The diacetyl here was a rather minor impediment because the flavor is dominated by the earthy, spicy rye. The hops added a little citrus which means that, overall, sharper flavors prevail. There's a nice zestiness to the beer which, combined with the medium-light body, makes this a most refreshing brew. (I initially had Rowdy Rye during warmer weather and can vouch for this.) As someone who likes rye, this beer gets high marks. And as someone who is not a hophead, I appreciate the moderation in hopping show here. The hops abet the rye rather than attempt usurp its position at the top of the flavor chain.

Junk food pairing: Pair Rowdy Rye with southwestern snack mix. The salt will bring out the barley malt a bit more and the chili flavor accentuates the zing that the rye and hops give the beer.