Episode 5: Birthday Blues, Burned Breweries, and Stinky Sulfur.

      There is a certain fortitude that is required when roaming long distance by motorcycle. Motorcycling is uncomfortable. Worth it, but uncomfortable. The well-rehearsed dance of donning heavy gear in the morning can get you breathing heavily for the wrong reasons. Two armloads each of all the stuff that we can't leave outside at night and can't lock in the car, that inevitably needs to get to and from the last hotel room, up the stairs, and all the way to the opposite end, every time, and after packing that stuff back on in the morning, your whole heavily loaded machine needs to be balanced and backed up by human power alone.

     Just when you think the physical part of the job is done, you press your chest against 70mph wind all day long, and your brain grows weary from scanning for rocks, potholes, slick spots, and gravel around every corner. Not to mention avoiding 4000lb metal killing machines that are piloted by people who can't be bothered to literally lift a finger and let the world know what their intention is by turning on the little blinky orange light on the corner of their goddamn Prius killing machine. (Sigh)

     Thats about where my head was at waking up in South Lake Tahoe the day after my birthday. I felt we were behind a schedule (that didn't exist) and are going to be late for a destination (we didn't have) and needed to rush to make up for our previous wandering (which was the point). Thankfully, precious little Bubbles talked me off the ledge. She quoted my favorite commandment from the scriptures of open binary-wheeled mechanical conveyance travel:

"When you feel you're in a hurry, SLOW DOWN." Take a break, spend another day... relax! See what wherever you are has to offer! 

     Well, we didn't do any of that, but her positivity did make me feel much better as we rushed headlong into the worst tourist traffic either of us had seen around the lake. It looked like highway 89 was going to provide some fun curves, wonderful views, and our eventual camping spot. But first we had to get around the lake.  Fuelled up and splitting lanes, we puttered (Well... I "rumbled", she "puttered") past throngs of sightseers locked in traffic, and headed around the west side of Tahoe towards Truckee, Ca. We couldn't be too mad about our clutch hands getting cramped, after all we were looky-loos too on this marvelously clear day, and the bicycle lane just might have provided enough room to squeeze past the tight spots of stopped traffic (allegedly) and keep us moving forward.

Sticking your iPhone to video out of your Bimmer window at 40mph will never compare.

It really is a beautiful lake.

      Traffic happily cleared about halfway around so the riding and the scenery got exponentially better, alternating between sighting the perfect curve, and viewing glimmer of fresh water through the shady trees. We decided to stay on 89 as it left the lake and took us north into the Tahoe Forest. It wasn't long before the heat of the day had us looking for late-lunch grub in quaint little Quincy, Ca. 

     Since brewers are craftsmen, and craftsmen care, its an obvious choice to pick a brewery for reliably good food, and of course a perfect dry throat cure as well. Quintopia Brewing got the nod because it looked like a nice, local place, oh and it was the only one in town. Turned out it was a nice,  local place and had us shedding a tear in our beer. 8 days before we arrived, fire had taken this entire small town brewery to the ground. All that was left was their little restaurant across the street.

From their site:

In the early afternoon of 29 July 2020, my beautiful brewery was taken away from me by flames – and also taken from my supportive local investors, from my wonderful staff, and from a very special community.

A fire on a neighboring property spread to our building, and despite a huge effort by firefighters, the building was destroyed by nightfall. Our friends and co-tenants at the Plumas Crisis Intervention Resource Center also lost their space and belongings, and the West End community Theatre lost all of their prop and costume stores. This was a tragic combination of loss.

Fire is as old as time, and has no mercy. When it strikes, it takes more than property. Thankfully no lives were lost in this incident. But consumed in that indifferent inferno were years of blood, sweat, tears, dreams and pride for all involved. For me, the fears and trepidation that come with starting an ambitious new brewery in a small mountain town now seem shadowed, perhaps by the billowing black smoke itself, compared to the feelings we are experiencing right now.

Quintopia is a community owned brewery, funded by several dozen individuals, of which many additionally contributed time and skills during construction of its production facility. It was a beautiful and unique space that I put thousands of hours into creating with utmost care and detail. A combination of carefully laid out and professional brewery process infrastructure, inside of a warm and attractive room that reflected an aesthetic born of my own life experience, and of our Northern California mountain town culture and environment. Hand-milled blue stain pine and centuries-old doug fir from my backyard and neighbors’ properties adorned bar tops, trim, and cabinets. Recycled materials such as roll-up doors, lumber, and insulation weren’t just thrifty, they reduced our construction footprint, and held a history of their own. Ironically, some of the historical original Meadow Valley Fire Department building now rests in the rubble of Quintopia, those materials unfortunately short lived in their new role.

The way forward is uncertain. But through the trauma – through the lingering smell that keeps me awake at night, the looping images of the destruction unfolding that day, the sting of personal possessions lost, the uncontrollable tears that keep taking me by surprise, and the suffocating weight of this next chapter ahead – there is a resilience that is creeping in hour by hour, day by day. We will rebuild. Quincy’s first brewery in 100 years has much more story to write yet. The support from the Community, the local brewing industry, and our friends and family is astounding. Our place in Quincy culture was rooted more firmly than I even realized, and I am powerfully aware of the heartfelt loss that Quincy is feeling.

During a global viral pandemic, saying this is a tough hand to be dealt is an understatement. The financial repercussions of this are yet to be fully understood, despite insurance, and the emotional and practical burdens cannot be worked around. But we are so grateful to have our taproom and restaurant intact across the street, so we can continue operating. We will remain open our regular hours – and possibly additional hours – and plans are being developed to brew some of Quintopia’s flagship beers on nearby Breweries’ facilities . We will supplement our brand with other amazing local craft beer, and strive to continue to be a hub for socializing, great food, and exceptional beer in the local community.

Your heartfelt expressions of concern and kind words give me strength… the generous offers for office space, brewing facilities, construction support and more give me hope… and the financial contributions are incredibly appreciated for its practical help in supporting my wife Hannah and I, our young family – many of you know our 6 year old identical triplet girls – and Quintopia, as we navigate these difficulties.

Thank you. From the depths of my fire-ravaged heart. Big love Quincy, and all who are part of the Quintopia story.

Tom Hepner
Founder, Brewer, Manager
Quincy, California

     Insurance will never cover the effort of hardworking people like that, who put their skill and care into something beautiful. Poor Bubbles had lost everything to a house fire as a young woman, so even though we didn't know these fine people personally, this hit particularly hard. After a truly spectacular lunch at their restaurant,  we hit the road on a more somber note, realizing how quickly fortunes can change.

      The marvelous 89 was gaining elevation and the air was cooling for some relief past Lake Almanor. It did indeed continue to provide the curves and views as promised that culminated that day at the Lassen Volcanic National Park. It's a pretty remote park, which explains why the NFS couldn't be bothered to man the booth. We made sure to put our FIFTY dollars of admission into the envelope (allegedly) to ride the 29 short miles of highway through the park. A buck-and-a-half for every mile of "public lands", on a state-built highway. Hypocrisy smells a lot like Vaseline.

     Volcanos are stinky. Incredible! but stinky. Neither of us had the desire to explore that area of the park. Instead we forged ahead to higher ground.

Theres nothing like being face to face with undeniably gorgeous scenery to humble and remind us why we're choosing the 'hard way' to adventure.

Just look at that ROAD!

Manzanita lake looks cold but there were people swimming! We regret not stopping and dipping our feet in:)

      We already knew from looking at the time and the map that we were destined to be 'between places' by the time the sun went down this day and traveling through national parks means gas is hard to come by. The tanks are empty, the sun is setting, do you turn left towards that lurking, godawful freeway to get gas in 20 miles guaranteed? Or do you roll the dice and turn right towards nothing but the tiniest little blip on the untrustworthy map called Old Station? 

     A quick check with the ever willing Bubbles, and she says "Roll the dice". What a rockstar.