Picture yourself on the second hottest day of your life. Maybe you’re sitting in the office, wherever you work, at 4:30 in the afternoon, and the stale air has produced a sticky coat of light sweat under your shirt. Mentally exhausted, you’re unable to continue filing your TPS reports. Outside the window, somewhere under the blue sky, there’s a river. The water calls to you, beckoning with its eddies, round rocks and cool babbling rapids. The creek I picture is Clear Creek, which flows out of Whiskeytown Lake in Northern California. The water is mostly calf deep, though in spots, below cliffs of granite and basalt, it can pool to depths over my head. The water is icy cold, kept that way for the benefit of the Salmon. Though some folks do it, I consider bottled beer at such a place to be an anathema. Enter the canned craft beer revolution.
When I arrive at the top of my usual route, tube in hand, having stashed a vehicle two miles downstream, I carry a drawstring backpack filled with canned beer and frozen water bottles. Sometimes I pack a variety, with something strong and robust for the first brew then tapering off to a lighter offering for numbers two and three. While this entire article could be a cheer-leading chant for craft beer in cans, I’ll stick to one for today: Simpler Times Pilsner. This is a pure, unadulterated, spicy, light lager from the Minhas Craft Brewery in Monroe, Wisconsin. Simpler Times is their private-label stock for Trader Joe’s, and comes in two varieties. Today I’m touting the efficacy of the Pilsner. Its peppery, yet crisp flavor is an exquisite complement to the cool water. The creek can vary from one float to the next, leaving me awash in a bush, or toppled into the drink on more than one occasion. My S.T. Pilsner, on the other hand, is consistently satisfying and, at an extremely low price point, I don’t lament too strongly if the better part of one can ends up being sucked beneath a log.
Despite having a good instinct for water (I am named Rio, after all) I’ve found that there is quite a technique to tubing. At the beginning, we go through the Salmon View Overlook gorge, which is fast, but even a novice can tumble through without much trouble. You have to kick off of flat rock faces and spin away from overhanging brush. Farther down, tree limbs and blackberries reach out ominously to snag a piece of the soft-plastic tube. To avoid these, it’s best to turn and paddle backwards with both arms. The route twists and turns, as a creek will do, and comes to an almost Class-II rapid. It’s not long, and we’re mostly able to bounce through, though there have been a couple of dumps—and injuries. Let the Adventurer beware!
After the rapid, you feel baptized, ready to float on, and that’s where the beer comes out. Simpler Times Pilsner’s relatively moderate 5.5% ABV allows me to ride out these and other vagaries with a (relatively) level head. The promise of spinning along in my big, supple doughnut has gotten me through many a stifling afternoon at the office. The thought of icy water on my face, drying instantly under the relentless rays of the falling orange orb keeps me going. My second pilsner is always better than the first. I like to start too early in the route, so there’s inevitably some creek water that splashes along the rim as I narrowly avoid spilling it. The second beer is lazier; I have plenty of time to savor and assess the modest, yet distinct flavors. Drinking a beer in a bar is fine, but drinking a beer in a rubber tube is sublime.
Along the way, beer number three starts to go to my head. The lack of rapids on this stretch of the river allows me to sink into reverie; a man-made stretch of Salmon habitat reminds me of the Pirates ride at Disneyland. Once I noticed one of the logs moving, then realized the habitat has been taken over by otters. My eyes are drawn to the blue expanse where droves of varied local bird species flit alongside on our journey. As the day fades, and my buzz levels off, I enjoy the fledgling colors of evening. Gone are the pressures of the office, the noise and chatter of my bustling life. Pilsner soaks into my veins, aided by the rays of the sun. A simple time of boyish pleasure replaces the stressors of work; another hot afternoon is wiled away in outdoor adventure paradise.