Why Drink Coffee When the Coffee Shop Brews Beer?

Bully Bends in downtown Rapid City, South Dakota has the initial appearance of your everyday coffee shop.  You step inside what appears to be cramped quarters to place your order, but instead of slinking off to the side doing your best to stay out of the way of traffic, those still ordering, and those also waiting, the barista simply asks your name.  You find a seat in what turns out to be ample space around back and some magical being you've never seen before somehow comes directly to you delivering your coffee, soup, sandwich, pasty, pastry, burger, or beer.  This is where the place suddenly jumps ahead of the competition. 

For around back, almost hidden in between the kitchen and the john is a small bar, with 5 stools, 6 beers on draft, and 5 beers brewed on site in the basement by the owner and maker of soups.  Their personal brews are only available in bottle (16 or 22 oz) while on tap they have available not one cheap beer.  Allow me to list the wonders from left to right:  Boulevard Wheat Beer, Fat Tire, Crow Peak Pile O' Dirt Porter, Stella Artois, Newcastle, and Guinness.  I have yet to buy a pint.

Instead, I have been fixated on their incredibly tasty brews.  Currently I'm halfway through a dark, rich, and creamy Bully Pulpit Porter.  Next it will be on to the Trustbuster's Bitter Ale.  At this point I should pause and explain the theme.  The Bully Blends mascot is none other than President Theodore Roosevelt, Trustbuster, Rough Rider, Lion Hunter, Amazon Explorer, and simply and assuredly A Man Among Men.  A tougher US President has never been elected and sadly the days of physical toughness combined with intellectual prowess seem to have gone the way of the Dodo.  Love him or hate him, the 26th US President could still outride, outshoot, and outtalk the men of his day or the politicians of ours. 

Yesterday, I passed a blustery afternoon exploring the Rough Rider Irish Red Ale, Nut Brown Maple Ale, and Pumpkin Ale.  And if I must say, a more enjoyable afternoon could not have been spent.  The beers were delectable and the homemade chili with cornbread  I could eat every day from now til my death.  As with most of my drinking experiences I have nothing to say about the individual beers but I can assure you that if you find yourself passing through Rapid City, South Dakota, a wasteful moment would not be spent sliding up to the bar at Bully Blends, ordering yourself a foamy brew, and raising a glass in cheers to the Bull Moose himself.

You Can Have My Heart for $2 pints of Guinness

While taking a vacation from my working vacation in California I stumbled across a nondescript bar with a familiar name along Main Street in Rapid City, SD.  There was no way I was gonna pass up a bar called the Oasis.  What with one of my favorite bars in Fairbanks bearing the same name and mixing the best Bloody's in town.  I proceeded through the door and into the windowless and appropriately dark bar.  It was about midday and the place was empty except the old bartender eyeing me suspisciously as I made my way up to the bar.  He had grey hair going on long, slicked back with grease and a ragged face to match the hard life he most surely has lived.  There was no nod, no verbal, nonverbal or otherwise greeting.  So, eyeing the taps, I cheerfully requested a Bud Light.  After checking my ID he grabbed me a Bud Light bottle and popped the cap. 

With half the bottle empty he asked about my Alaskan ID and we were off to the races.  Conversation flying all over the place.  From bars named Oasis, to the recent SD smoking ban on bars, to politics, and finally a playful exchanging of PC-less jokes.  Interrupted briefly by the postman (currently on his 24th year delivering the downtown route) a self declared, outnumbered liberal, who stopped in for popcorn, a soda, and brief banter with the bartender. 

The turning point in the conversation came when I asked if the Oasis got hoppin over the weekends.  According to him, it's the college hotspot thurs-sat nights, partially due to drink prices.  The bar down the street serves Guinness for $6.25.  The Oasis pours a pint of the tall, dark, and handsome for $2.25 before 6 and $3.25 after 6.  I nearly kissed the man's feet. 

He declared it offensive that a bar would charge such a high price.  "The keg is bought for $100 and you get 125 pints out of a keg so the bar is already tripling it's money at $3.  Why gouge the poor kids?"  The gentleman had my heart at $2.25. 

A Desire for Home

Sitting in a coffee shop's fake leather chair beside it's falsely glowing fireplace I feel a long way from the river, a long way from taking a rocky seat beside a real, warmth producing, stress relieving, comfort providing campfire while the Willamette gurgles by, occasionally releasing a rainbow trout for a brief peak of the outside world as it snatches a fly from the air. 

Riding a bike through downtown streets waiting and watching for the traffic barreling by and listening to the roar of engines and bleating of horns I feel a long way off from the steady rhythm of paddles slicing through clear, running water pulling canoes steadily forth as the Heron's cries pierce the air like pterodactyls of times gone by and a slight wind rustles the drying leaves of autumn's trees. 

Waking up in a soft bed with shielded light creeping through the cracks of drawn shades I feel a long way off from the early morning light beckoning me awake as it consumes the entirety of my tent and my being and insists that I rise and take part in it's splendor.

Being a bystander, a nonparticipant, in the steady flow of sea bound waters I feel separated from my place in this world, not a chosen place, at least not a place which I chose for myself.  Instead a place that was chosen for me by the waters, and having been chosen there is longing in separation.  But following this longing comes the intense joy, satisfaction, and relief found in reunion.

And so I am thankful for this longing, thankful for this intense desire to be back on water, for without this longing I would not know the same pleasure experienced in union.

Why the River

I have often wondered and occasionally been asked what it is that draws me to running water. While on the gentle waters of the Willamette I pondered this question. On the wide, slow waters of the Columbia I broached the question with Greg and Suzanne. Testing my theory, we wrestled with a multitude of answers. Overcome by bourbon and nearly swallowed by rough waters we chewed up and spat out the possibilities. Ultimately sober and virtually indestructible we settled upon an answer.

A friend once adamantly insisted that life is not meant to be easy.  Instead it is meant to be hard.  On the Willamette I proposed, and we decided that this is incorrect. Life is easy. People have been living for millennia. Over tens of thousands of years we’ve gotten pretty damn good at it. I would argue that the only thing easier than living is dying. As we all know only three things are necessary to life. Food, water, and shelter. Man figured that out back before we were Man.

We, individually, make life difficult. Due to restlessness, jealousy, boredom, ambition we “shake” things up and through doing so make our lives and the lives of those around us difficult. If we could all be satisfied with living (i.e. food, water, and shelter) then life would be easy. Unfortunately being satisfied with what we have has always been considered a flaw instead of a virtue.

While hitching a ride on wide waters flowing ever onward, Life insists that you be satisfied with her and her alone. And satisfied with life you begin to realize, to see, the connections that bring life together. The fly hatches drawing the trout, which brings the osprey and finally the eagle. The beaver slowly, almost lazily but with steady efficiency works timelessly as the waters flow around him. Drawing a breath and reaching into the cold, running waters you can almost touch the hand of the woman cleansing herself in the holy waters of the Ganges tens of thousands of miles away, the same body of water you are floating now.

It is the return to life’s essentials, a return to simplicity and innocence that brings me to running water. While floating a river there is only food, water, shelter to be concerned with. The simplicity that would benefit us in our daily lives is unavoidable on the river. The river carries us ever onwards, provides for us, and connects us. Next time you’re out walking and you come across an ancient flowing waterway take a moment. Walk down to its banks and reach into the cool waters, close your eyes and feel the steady, gentle pulse of the Earth. Then you will begin to understand why I can’t help but float the river.