Mad Scientists Make for Great Stories

By Ian Guevara

“Why ya taking notes there?” the bearded man sitting at the tap room bar asks me.

I’m slightly uncomfortable answering him. Not that I’m embarrassed by my writing or what I’m trying to accomplish, but more because I don't think that I’ve earned the right to call myself a writer. Who am I to usurp a title held by some of my favorite figures? I’m an amatuer at best. Doing this for fun. But I want people to read this, to share in my adventures.

These thoughts race through my mind as I struggle to answer.

“Writing for my brewery review blog,” I stumble into the answer. It's the appropriate one, but as much as I try to exhibit confidence and charm, I’m a neurotic fool like the rest of the Earth’s population.

We’re at Low Road Brewery in Hammond, Louisiana. Again, at my side is Jonathan. Dude’s a trooper. We already got a little toasty at Gnarly Barley earlier, but braver men have fought against the armies of darkness for my freedom to drink a beer and review it. Who am I to forsake those sacrifices?

Jonathan is always willing and ready for adventure. Even ones doomed for failure.

We were determined to hammock camp on top of Wayah Bald in Western North Carolina. Furthermore, we wanted to hammock inside the tower sitting atop the mountain. Built in the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps, the tower leaves a medieval visage from the parking lot. Just the type of shelter our heroes would seek out. The tower was nearly destroyed in 2016 by a fire that ravaged the Western North Carolina Appalachians. But by 2020 when Jonathan, “Homelessman” Chris, Louie, and I arrived at Wayah, the tower was restored to its previous glory.

Wyah Tower that very day, before… THE CLOUD.

It started off as a beautiful day on top of the mountain. The blue skies amplified the haze of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the sun was showing, birds were chirping, the world was out oyster. Then the cloud rolled in. Not clouds; that would almost imply that they would roll in then out. No. A cloud… one big, wet, and windy cloud. The cloud rolled in and brought an endless barrage of thick mist and rain. It never stopped. It was relentless, but so was I.

I wanted to camp on top of that damn mountain and in that damn tower.

“Hey man, the Wayah Bald shelter is only a half mile down the trail, let's just go there,” Louie suggested.

“That sounds like a solid plan,” Jonathan agreed.

“No. I can make this work,” I declared.

I ran back to the truck and pulled out a massive roll of visqueen I brought with me. It was left over from when I repainted the walls of my condo three years previously. I lugged it along on this trip as a precaution against the weather of the Nantahala National Forest. You never know when you’ll be stuck in a cloud.

“We will wrap the tower!” My logic was sound and terribly flawed simultaneously. For seven years I worked in the warehouse at Massey’s Outfitters in New Orleans. Every day I would plastic wrap pallets full of product in a tight, almost waterproof cube that could withstand my, shall I say, erratic driving of the company Penske truck. My vision was clear… at least in my head: we will wrap the tower like a pallet of boxes and sleep soundly, protected from the elements.

Weather, fate, and time were not on my side. Neither was common sense. It was a terribly stupid idea. What the hell was I thinking?

To my comrade’s credit, they agreed to give it the old college try. As we attempted to wrap the tower, the wind would catch the visqueen like a pirate’s sail, flapping and fluttering, clearly the language of nature telling me “nope”. For an hour we tried to accomplish my silly vision. The sun was falling and precious time to set up an actual camp was vanishing.

“I think it's time to give it up, dude,” Jonathan said.

“No, we can do this, we just have to -” a massive gust of wind and mist slap away an entire section we managed to cover as I attempt to finish my thought.

“Yeah, it's over.”

We set up camp in the dark, off the side of the parking lot of the tower. Cold and wet. Yet despite defeat, we still had fun. No matter how disastrous an adventure may be, there’s always a lesson. Mine was simple: You can't wrap a lookout tower in visqueen.

Low Road Brewery sits in an old storage facility about 2 miles from downtown Hammond. If you blink you’ll miss it. The entrance to the tap room is almost hidden as if it's a speakeasy and you’re trying to evade old smokey. But inside is an efficient and modern establishment with strong wooden tables, cozy seating, and a back portion that displays various tanks with colorful lights like it's the brewer’s version of Studio 54. All I needed was Grandmaster Flash’s “White Line” playing and I’d be at home.

Low Road provides quite the selection of beers with an interesting collection of flavor combinations. You have to give the brewers credit here, they are experimenting and trying different strategies. As always with experiments, some succeed and some fail… visqueen anyone?

The first flight consisted of “Honeycomb Hideout”, “Lemon Blueberry Blonde”, “Ride of the Kooshma”, and “Crystal Lake Campfire”. Honeycomb Hideout is an American Wheat Ale that's very sweet with its initial taste. The honey definitely dominates the flavors here. But it's not crispy as one would expect from a wheat ale, and there’s no citrus flavor to balance out the sweetness of the honey. Conversely, the Lemon Blueberry Blonde is a Blond Ale very crispy. It starts off sweet and allows the crisp to follow leaving a delightful floral aftertaste. While blonde ales are certainly “Dad Beer” territory, this doesn’t fit in due to the exotic aftertaste. This is still a beer that could be drunk all day without batting an eye.

The Ride of Kooshma is a Hefewizen that’s crispy that has sweet and fruity notes like a classic wheat beer containing notes of banana. Chasing your taste buds, like Jason Voorhees, is Crystal Lake Campfire Smoked Peach Sour. Pucker up because the sourness will slash you. It's almost too sour, which is something I never thought I would feel about a sour beer. I think the smokey flavor hides the sweetness that would balance out the sourness.

God help me. Have I had too much beer today? I swear this is my last flight for the day. I’ve now discovered I’m a two brewery-a-day reviewer. No more. Like the sith. Anymore and the review will become muddled in rambling stories… (you’re still reading right?)

The final flight was an appropriate rainbow of deep brown, bright red, soft yellow, and old gold. In the glasses sat “Questions Without Answers”, “Summer Vacation”, “Rebellious Redhead”, and “Smooth Operator”. Questions Without Answers is a golden IPA starts off sweet and finishes with a slight bitter aftertaste, but leaves you wanting another sample. Do I like IPAs now? Am I in a different universe? One where I don't scoff at bitter beers?

Summer Vacation is the star of all my flights of the day. It's a coconut, pineapple, and lime sour that definitely punches you right in the sour receptors. Tastes like an Atomic Warhead, but is balanced out by the sweetness of the pineapple, leaving a splendid pina colada aftertaste. Rebellious Redhead is a solid “Dad Beer”, nothing special but done well and shows off the brewer’s craftsmanship. Smooth Operator is a thicc with two C's American Porter. It contains a light chocolate flavor and a dry maltiness. I would consider this a desert beer.

Low Ride Brewery is open on Wednesdays and Thursdays from 4pm-9pm and from Friday through Sunday from 12pm-9pm. It's a sleek and modern venue with an extremely courteous and knowledgeable staff. A very welcoming establishment whose brewers are ever trying to experiment and take risks in flavors like Doc Brown or Victor Von Frankenstein (the Gene Wilder version).

Mad scientists make for great stories, and the beers here tell good ones.