Swimming with Left Handed Fishes at Lake Dillon

Swimming with Left Handed Fishes at Lake Dillon

I woke up with a pug’s butthole in my face Sunday morning. Luckily, I knew exactly where I was even though I wasn’t positive how I got there. Animal ass in your face tends to make you take a moral and physical inventory, or at least it should, and I did a quick once over. Other than some scraped elbows, I wasn’t missing any major body parts, but the moral inventory had yet to be taken.

I’m using this over elaborate opening to segue into my experience serving beer at a small beer festival the day before. Self serving? Probably, but I don’t care since I did a ton of serving to others the previous afternoon. Just weeks before, my friend Sarah, a rep for Left Hand Brewing, graciously offered me a ticket to the festival and of course I said yes. What idiot would say, “No thanks, I love beer but hate drinking a whole bunch of varieties from breweries from one of the best beer states in the union (Colorado if you’re slow) for free”? I jumped on that shit like Gary Busey on crazy pills.

I rode my bike there. This is Dillon so the base elevation is like 9,100 feet. It was damn near impossible to show up without being a huge sweaty mess. I fixed this problem by immediately trying every beer I could get my grubby hands on. Stand outs included (Read: the ones I recorded) a cucumber saison from Trinity Brewing, a watermelon kolsh by Fate Brewing, a russian imperial stout from Gravity brewing, and a mix of Ska Brewing’ minthe stout and something with orange or cream(??). I’ll save you my amateur review, but they were all fucking good. I didn’t have a bad brew all day and I tried a bunch more.

After sampling beers for a while, I decided to go back to the Left Hand tent and let the ladies take a break from pouring. My intentions were to pour beer for an hour, get back to sampling every beer I could grab and take some pictures to post on our Facebook and Twitter accounts along with some insightful thoughts on beer. Well, few of those things happened because I had a fucking BLAST pouring beer.

I like talking to people. Over two hours I basically made 100 new friends. I shot the shit with festival volunteers, beer aficionados and people that were just curious about beer. The people learning about beer were possibly my favorite. I had Sawtooth Amber ale and 400 Pound Monkey IPA at my disposal. These are two excellent Left Hand beers and not only did I enjoy them, I LOVED seeing the look of total satisfaction on people’s faces after tasting a recommendation. Honestly, neither beer was a bad choice, but there’s something about seeing people lighting up like a kid that just had his or her first piece of candy. There’s also something to be said when people come up to a brewery’s tent unsolicited and unleash how much they love the beer. Given Left Hand’s recent addition of fermentation tanks and land purchase, we all had nothing but great things to talk about.

The short point for a long story: I had fun and felt enriched for an entire afternoon. You can go to a bar, brewery or store, corner some unsuspecting Shmoe and chat his fucking ear off if you like talking about beer. OR you could volunteer for a festival and meet all sorts of cool ass folks. Plus, I remember everything from my time under the Left Hand tent. It was all the other dumb shit I got into later that led to me waking up staring a pug right in his brown eye with bloody elbows and that taste of monkey shit in my mouth. Just more proof that volunteering enriches your life positively and beer people are good people.


An open mind and a few beers can make anywhere an adventure.

Drink with me on Twitter and Instagram or harass all of BnL on Facebook by posting whatever you’re drinking and other inappropriate things.

Samuel Sly
Written by Samuel Sly

Homeboy seemingly came out of nowhere. Michigan? Colorado? Truth be told, no one knows where this motherfucker came from. Rumor has it he dwells in Denver and drinks ram piss.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *