A Walking Tour of the Reno / Sparks Beer Scene (Part 1)

The Sam Adams of Cities? (© Anneliese Schmidt)

Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean you should.

Before lunchtime on a Saturday afternoon, my ever-forgiving wife and I are already headed south on McCarran Boulevard from northern Sparks. I’m driving a red Jeep Cherokee that we don’t own, following detour signs that originally hinted that anyone hoping to get from McCarran to Rock (not “Rock Blvd,” just “Rock”) would be sorely disappointed. We do not want to be sorely disappointed. In our possession: we have a brand-new cell phone (but no clue how to use it), sunglasses, notebooks, Clif bars, a modest and compact arsenal of cameras and lenses, and intricate instructions from Google Maps that very clearly state, “Walking directions are in beta. Use caution – this route may be missing sidewalks or pedestrian paths.”

We are heading to a brewery named after a bog plant.

This was to be the simple part of our trip. Of the five up-and-coming breweries in the Reno/Sparks area of northern Nevada (BJ’s Restaurant and Brewhouse, while technically in Reno, is a road trip best left for another day), our first stop is the furthest from Reno’s city center and the only one we decided to leave off our walking route. (The entire circuit, for the adventurous soul who dreams of sightseeing Reno’s highway system, is just shy of 13 miles). Following the detour around business parks and tire dealerships, we realize this has added half an hour and wasn’t necessary. We (I) then proceed to speed past the entrance to Buckbean. Conveniently, we could now use a beer.

(© Anneliese Schmidt)

Buckbean Brewing Company’s warehouse location, quietly indicated by a pair of small signs at the parking lot entrances and one bold logo affixed to the building itself, will call back those countless other times you’ve wandered into an industrial complex looking for beer (Alesmith, Avery, Captain Lawrence, Lost Abbey, Hair of the Dog, Valley Brew, East End Brewing Co., Three Floyds… sometimes I embarrass myself at parties). Inside, the side walls are lined with shelves full of international empties, the brewing and canning equipment shines at the back of this cavernous space, and their spotless serving area, from certain angles, appears infinite.

Buckbean appeared on the brewing scene about sixteen months ago. They’re currently the only northern Nevada brewery with any notable distribution (i.e., with anything beyond occasional kegs popping up at the local bars), and their two canned offerings, the Black Noddy Lager and Original Orange Blossom Ale (a tasty schwarz and a respectable blossom-based creation), seem to be available just about everywhere beer is sold around here. But, for now at least, the tasting room in the brewery is just about the only place to find their rotating seasonals, which is why we’re here. In addition to Black Noddy and Orange Blossom, today the free round of samplers includes three limited releases. Both their Artown Pilsner and Oktoberfest Lager are crisp, highly drinkable, and flawlessly presented, while the Tule Duck Red Ale shows a notably eccentric approach to the style, its modest bitterness trumped by juicy red-fruit notes.

(© Anneliese Schmidt)

I’m no longer thinking about detours.

During our leisurely tour around the brewing facilities, we learn that the Tule Duck Red Ale is becoming a year-round offering (with canning plans speculated for the coming year), and Scot Holidale will be brewed differently this season, appearing as an amped-up version of Noddy Lager around the end of October. It’s encouraging to see a young brewery having a deft handle on both the commercial side and brewing side of things, and as we head back past the stacked pallets of cans I think, that’s a lot of cans.

One thin slice of a giant orange edifice. (© Anneliese Schmidt)

From Buckbean to Great Basin Brewing Company, it’s a quick drive north on McCarran in the direction of downtown Sparks, left onto East Victorian, and past a Midget Market clearly visible from Interstate 80. We cleverly abandon our Jeep inside a casino’s public parking lot.

Your guess is as good as mine.

My initial meeting with Great Basin, about a year ago when we were passing through, wasn’t an overly flattering one: we hit a combination of dinner and casino crowds, their limited releases were lackluster, and, while their standard Ichthyosaur IPA and Jackpot Porter were excellent, the mood seemed a bit off.

Helpful tip: if you don’t adore casino families and rockabilly bands (you know who you are…), go during lunch or a slow period, or sit at the bar or outside. Because even if an alarming percentage of the people here really are those same transient folks you’re liable to find in the Nugget in the wee hours of the morning, Great Basin is also located at the end of a string of biker-friendly haunts down Victorian. Near the bar area, drab Hawaiian short-sleeve shirts are overshadowed by flagrant bandannas, leathery vests, and scripted body art. We see more people with pints of imperial stout than anything transparent.

There are flight attendants passing through. Non-gambling couples. We find ourselves surrounded by varied, ambivalent factions. The gentleman sitting behind us, for instance, looks a lot like Hagrid.

These fine people, like us, are here for the beer.

That person behind the glass: not a hardcore biker. (© Anneliese Schmidt)

As our second stop of the day, Great Basin adds a number of interesting styles into the mix, and Ali and I order pints to share of their Gone to Helles and Munich Kellerbier, both of which, following their heritage, prove to be sessionable and refreshing. The Jason Green’s Russian Imperial Stout is a pleasantly drinkable rendition, while Cerveza Chilibeso (“with a kiss (beso) of Jalapeño”) showcases the pepper’s character beautifully. This brewpub takes its chances well. Upcoming seasonals will include Oktoberfest and Fresh Hop Hopasaur (!).

Relax! Whatever you drink you can win back. (© Anneliese Schmidt)

We feel good. We feel sprightly. We feel like we could probably walk 3.3 miles right now!

Outside Great Basin, Victorian Avenue stretches westward, threading between casinos and serving as a central, off-highway conduit through downtown Sparks. We’re familiar with the initial block of it, having walked endlessly back and forth in search of decent beer at the Best in the West Nugget Rib Cook-off the weekend before. (This weekend, in turn, has both The Great Reno Balloon Race as well as the International Camel Races. It’s nothing if not eclectic here.) The rest of the walk ahead remains a mystery, something we occasionally drive past on the Interstate, something that stays barely visible over a concrete divide. It’s two in the afternoon, we’re traveling light, we’ve hit two of our five destinations.

The best and worst of Reno / Sparks (we’re certain of this) lies down the road.

[To be continued in Part 2, here.]

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