getting there ....

So I get a text from CMac last week informing me he will be passing through Newport and was going to stop by. I arranged for Isaac to be here for Dad figuring I could jump on the bike and ride with them a bit, then split off at one point. The area out where they were headed is great riding, and I need to hone my skills; and all the while ride with a couple maggots (as he and Kent were riding together).

My plan was to ride with them out to where I-40 meets US 27. Then I would plot out a route. I do have a “couple” favorite roads for that area and pretty much knew where I would be going without even looking at the map. Even though I entertained the idea of hitting some other roads, I tend to fall back on a same basic route ... hey, if it ain’t broke, don’t go fixin’ it!   ; )

I had one goal for today – to get my “motorcycle legs” under me; to get some ‘lean time’. While last week’s little ‘off-road excursion’ was quite fun (aside from losing the brakes), it wasn’t what I –needed- to be doing.

I need to work on my cornering. I am too sloppy right now. I enter into a turn with all kinds of “what-if”s. I am second-guessing every move I make, basically overthinking.

I know that sounds counterintuitive, but I need to be reacting to the conditions, not *thinking* about the radius of the curve, or the banking of the road, or “is that gravel?”, or the feedback of the road itself – but rather just automatically adjusting to it. As Mr. Coffee might say, “train your monkey”.

I do have those skills, I just need to knock off the rust. What better way than riding to do that?

I figured I would make sure to include route 85 southbound off of TN-52 on the itinerary. I have rode this one a couple times and do remember there were a bunch of 10 mph ascending (headed south) switchbacks. THIS is what I need!

The only thing complicating the day would be a possible meet-up “date” with Melissa in Knoxville. I told her I would call her at 5, and if she were off work, maybe we could meet up. This would be “tight” … and this is “tight” on the “Ed’s-on-a-bike-time” scale, which just somehow seems to defy the physics behind the whole 60 minute clock system.    ; )

So Kent and Christopher arrived around noon I think. We hung out at the house for a bit and then headed out.  

I only live a couple minutes off the interstate so soon we were zipping through traffic at a modest 10-20 over (mostly). CMac on his ST13 was leading, followed by me on my big Sabre, and Kent riding tailgunner on his FJR13.

I thought I had fixed my fan problem, and buttoned everything back up the other night and the fan ran for a few minutes then quit and hasn’t run since. However, I did manage to find and fix the problem with the temperature gauge. The wire going to the temperature probe was loose. I tightened up the connector with a pair of pliers and it hasn’t slipped since.

I figure as long as I am not sitting in traffic, I should be fine. However, should I find myself in such a situation at least I can watch the temperature gauge to know when to shut it down or park.

We got just west of Knoxville, just before I-75 branches off to the south and it became a parking lot. We were moving but not really generating any airflow over that radiator.

I was closely monitoring that gauge. I figured as soon as it got into the “H” range, I was parking.

It was still one bar away from the lowest in the “H” range, so I figured I was fine. Traffic was just starting to thin out and I was able to weave my way in and out and get up to second gear, and then it opened up enough and soon the bike cooled  back down again.

The rest of the ride was as mundane as you would expect the slab to be. I did find that I have a resonance issue at 85-95 mph. It levels off after 95 (as much as these old bikes do), so I don’t think it’s a suspension issue, as you would expect it to worsen with speed. I didn’t test the theory enough to have much data, but that is what I found after one trial. At 75 (and this is all “indicated” speeds) mph it is rock solid, 85 mph is like a jalopy, and above 95 is (mostly) solid again.   

When we got up to US 27 CMac pulled off and they gassed up the bikes and grabbed a quick snack before heading back to I-40. It was now about 2 PM and I knew making Knoxville by 5 was a no-go, because even though I had logged about 90 miles, I hadn’t started *my* ride yet.   ; )    Upon hearing me mention that I was supposed to meet Melissa in Knoxville at 5, Christopher queried ‘that’s … what?  6:30 Ed-time?’

At this point I figured I would pull over somewhere about 5 and touch base with her, wherever I was at 5.  ;  )    I plotted out my route and headed on. I knew I wanted to include 85 as mentioned but 297 is another must-do for me and runs through Big South Fork. Good stuff! Lots of sweeping turns and a mountain climb that involves some tight, twisty turns – so it’s a good mix.

I headed north on 27 and finally pulled up to 297. 27 is fine, but the curves are spaced so far apart, you never establish a rhythm. The next four roads would more than make up for it --  TN-297 west to TN-154 south; then TN-52 west of Jamestown to TN-85 south. Then go from there depending on time.

I got on 297 and it immediately brought a smile to my face. All the fun I have had on this road! Good pick to “break myself back in”.

The eastern part of the road is dotted with horse farms and is quite pretty and serene. Additionally, many of the curves are soft sweepers so you can actually take in some of the surrounding landscape. It then progresses into a mountain road with a bunch of tighter turns. 

When I got to the technical section of 297, I was not “on” yet, and this was amplified by the fact that the transition from sun and shade happened in a lot the apices (pl. for apex?) and it was hard to get a good sight line to plan where to go, so I didn’t gain any confidence there.

297 dumps you onto TN-154 which is fun in both directions, but I needed to be headed south. As it was, it’s nearly five now and I am well over an hour away from Knoxville. I went south and still am struggling in the turns. I would have expected to be more comfortable by now.

By the time I got to where 154 ends on 52, it was about 4:50. There is a little roadside park just a few hundred yards away, so I pull in and phone Melissa to let her know there is no way I will make Knoxville by 5.

This is a win-win situation here. I call her and she needs to book on home, then I get to play around more and hopefully get more of a comfort zone. If she says she will hang around and wait, then I get a "date" with my wife. That's two in a week's time for those counting.     ;  )

She says she could hang around a bit. I really had no idea how far I was away and I told her I thought I was an hour and a half northwest of Knoxville, so we set up a 6:30 meetup instead.

In retrospect, if I had gone straight south from there and scrapped 52 and 85 from the route, that was possible. However, there was NOO way I was dropping 85, so that meant I had to continue west for another 20 minutes or so to pick up 85 and then go south before I could turn back east for another 20 minutes.

52 is a nice scenic ride. It has some nice sequences of curves too. Enough that I am starting to get a bit smoother by now too. After about 15 or 20 miles, I finally hit 85.

This road’s a sleeper. There really is nothing to it when you first get on it southbound.

After about 5 miles it gets FUN! There were a few, what I call, “roller coaster whoops” which can cause your stomach to come up and visit your throat when you modulate the throttle at the correct point. Fun stuff! Furthermore, as mentioned earlier, these 10 mph ascending switchbacks sequenced back to back to back is great stuff.

This is *just* what the doctor ordered. I am starting to hit marks and …. just …. ride … reacting, doing … not thinking. The next 20 miles on that road were the best of the day.

Before we parted earlier in the day, Kent asked if I would be slabbing it back home. I replied “no way” unless it got really late or I had to make time -- or maybe if I have to make up some time for going further in the wrong direction or something. It is now just about 6 PM and I am pulling into Crossville -- which is a mere 20 miles west of where I got off I-40 four hours ago.

Crossville is a little over an hour west of Knoxville. I’m supposed to meet Melissa at 6:30-ish and it is now 6 PM …. you do the math! Looks like Ed-time strikes yet again. 

So I jumped on I-40 to make time. Kent knows me better than I do.

I showed up at 7:10, so not too bad. Christopher, you almost had it right!   ; )

Melissa and I had a nice dinner at Friday’s on … a Thursday. It’s been so long since just her and I have gone to a restaurant that wasn’t fast food.

After dinner it was now dark, so I just jumped back on 40 to hopefully minimize the likelihood of forest rat encounters. I logged 350 some miles today and am sore everywhere, but smilin’.

Most importantly, I got back some confidence. I nearly have my “motorcycle legs” under me again.

30=21

I know it sounds like bad math, but for our 21 st anniversary, Melissa and I “escaped” for about 30 hours. Melissa was unable to leave Knoxville due to work until about 4:30 in the afternoon. This put us leaving the house close to 6 PM.

We stopped in Knoxville to grab a bite and at a liquor store for some beer and Asti Spumante (practically a tradition for us by now). From there it was off to Tellico Plains to stay at Hunt’s Lodge. We are friends of the owners, Jack and Lori, and I would just as soon throw them some money than some corporate hotel chain.

Jack and Lori were gracious enough to come out and visit us and we spent the next couple of hours catching up and enjoying their company. Lori also made a point to bring this:

It was delicious. Thanks Lori, that was pretty sweet of you.

We left by 9 AM and were headed to Blue Ridge, GA. We had made reservations to ride on the Blue Ridge Scenic Railway. This was a nice, peaceful excursion along a river (Toccoa River?) that flows into the Ocoee to the north.

It was an hour long each way at a breakneck 13 mph. It involved a 2 hour layover on the GA/TN state line. We walked around the shops and lunched at a Mexican restaurant in Copperhill, TN.

After eating we waddled around a bit more and then re-boarded the train for the trip back. Once back we had to get to the car and find our next reserved activity. We were bound for Adventure Trail Rides, also in Blue Ridge, to explore the countryside on horseback.

I found this to be the highlight of the day. I hadn’t been on a horse that I could remember. I have a picture of me sitting on one as an infant, but no recollection of it at all.

It was kind of funny. As they were securing my stirrups, Melissa looked over at me and asked if I was okay. I was a bit nervous; just not sure what to expect. After a few steps along, though, this tension passed.

 We spent the next hour going up and down the hills of northern GA. It was quite pleasant.

We capped off the day with a visit to one of Melissa’s cousins who was only an hour and a half away from where we were. I hadn’t seen him in at least a decade. It was good to catch up with him and his wife (whom I last saw 25 years ago).

A great 30 hours to celebrate a great 21 years.

Gimme a brake ...

The other night I finally managed to get the Sabre road ready. After buttoning up the last detail, I hit the starter button to hear rrr- rr- r Crap! So I had to recharge the battery. I couldn’t go yesterday, but had an opportunity to go out today (Friday), so at long last, I was able to go ride!

So I set out for a stroll, and, yes, I mean a *stroll*. After a 13 month absence of riding, a new rear tire, and new front suspension, I had no intention of pushing hard.

I left with no plan and no map. I had no idea where I would end up and didn’t care. I figured I would let the road dictate my route.   

It really felt great to be back in the saddle again. However, my nerves were racked. I was rusty. I was missing my lines. I was apprehensive. The bike seemed much stiffer, and I was nervous about tossing it into a corner a bit aggressively.

I happened upon an intersection where I could go left or right. I knew I could put together a route that would include some cool roads either way.

I chose left. I had taken this road once before and knew where it would take me, but when I got to my next turn, I took the turn in the opposite direction, as I hadn’t been that way before. In retrospect, I wish I had gone right at that first intersection.

I managed to get myself good and lost. Not that this was a bad thing. as I still had nearly a full tank of gas and over 5 hours of daylight left.

But each road was getting narrower and narrower. I saw a sign for Martha Sundquist Forest, and knew the general area that was located in, so I headed that way thinking I would find a road I was familiar with. The road soon went to gravel, then got a bit rougher, but it still wasn’t too bad, so I continued on. This would be a recurring theme.

I finally came upon a sign that was a map of the Forest area. It just so happened that I was in the center (according to the map) of the Forest. I could’ve turned around and gone back to being lost or forge on to see if I could get “found”, still holding on to the ideal that I would find a familiar road up ahead. I decided to forge on.

I even successfully handled my first water crossing. It wasn’t but a few inches deep, but it was my first. The next one was deep enough to get my feet wet as they were on the footpegs.

WooHoo! After the water crossings, I began climbing … and climbing … and climbing. I was ducking low branches and picking a line with the least rutted trough across it – and all at a fairly brisk (for a greenhorn off-roader) pace. By now, I am thinking how much I want a dual sport. This was kind of fun!

After I had been on this forest road for about an hour, the enthusiasm faded as I was wanting to get back to some asphalt. I spent another 45 minutes riding the ridge top and really beginning to wonder if it ever comes out … ANYWHERE!

I thought I had heard the Twilight Zone theme a couple times. ; )   Then I heard a high pitch “whirring” noise. It was like a bearing or brake drag. I found a place to pull over and started chasing it down.

It turned out the noise was coming from the radiator cap. For nearly two hours, I wasn’t going any faster than 20 mph, the radiator was rather hot as it wasn’t getting cooled by the air all that much.

As it turned out, it wasn’t getting cooled by the fan either as my fan must’ve quit working at some point (it was working before I left the house). I checked the fuses – they all looked good. I bypassed the thermostat switch at the base of the radiator – that didn’t help. I jiggled wires, again no luck.

About this time, a couple guys happened by in a truck that I had passed earlier. They asked if they could help and I told them I was fine. I asked if they knew if this road EVER turned back to pavement. They told me they were about to ask me as they were just riding around and happened across this road much like I did.

I added what little water I had left to the radiator, buttoned everything back up and headed on. About 10 minutes later, I spied a sign indicating Hot Springs was a left turn. Sweet! I was sooo ready to find some asphalt.

Remember me stating I was climbing … and climbing … and climbing? Well at some point you have to head back down. That left turn was a steep decline (and still gravel). I know to use the rear brake as much as possible when on a downhill grade gravel road, so that is what I did.

I soon lost all brake pressure on the rear pedal. Now, a smart man, would’ve likely stopped and let the pressure build back up, or put the bike in first gear, shut off the engine, and work the clutch for braking. Hell, maybe a smart man would’ve never even taken a big Sabre up there to start with, but then, I never claimed to be a smart man.

Actually, neither of these options occurred to me at the time. Additionally, I was feeling my oats a bit and figured I could handle using just the front brake, so long as I moderated my downhill speed. I really figured I would be okay as I have a pretty good comfort zone on gravel.

This was working fine. That is, until I then lost front brake pressure too. Well, SH*T!

I am still on a significant downhill grade and it still didn’t occur to me to shut the engine down. Then the front wheel slid to the left and … BAM! the bike and I were *slammed* into the ground.

I tried to get the bike righted, but it was resting on the side bags and my first effort only got it onto the tires. I could move it up a bit more but was worried that the bike would start rolling downhill and would fall again because I wouldn’t be able to hold the brake while getting it on its wheels.

Great! I’m in B.F.E. so likely no cell service, and even if there were I didn’t have a clue where I was nor whom I could call. My only hope was that SOMEone … ANYone … might come by that way.

Oddly enough, I heard a couple bikes coming about 10 minutes later. They were both riding old Beemers and stopped. The guy helped me get the bike standing again. When I told them I lost brake pressure, the girl put her fist in the air and claimed “Yaaay! drum brakes!”    -- it was funny!

I had another mile of downhill grade gravel riding, and finally wised up and just decided to shut down the bike and use the clutch until I hit pavement. I figured by the time I got to the bottom, the pressure surely would’ve built back up in the brakes.

I cannot express how glad I was to see asphalt! I damn near parked the bike and kissed the ground.   ; )    

A couple of turns put me on an old friend … NC-209. I didn’t feel mentally ready to run that road, but knew it would get me home without any more gravels. 

Despite not feeling confidence, and how rusty I had been all day (when I was on asphalt), I soon found a rhythm. I wasn’t scraping pegs, and I wasn’t as smooth or as crisp as I am capable but  it was the most comfortable I had been all day on the bike and managed to get the blood rushing and the face smiling. I was “thinking” less and “riding” more.

Like someone once said "it's always an adeventure".   ; )

Oh I forgot to chronicle the damage to the bike. The left side bag took some pretty hard scratches. It still opens and closes, its just ugly. The headlight glass was broke. The chrome piece on the bottom of the footpeg come off and got bent out of shape. The clutch lever, left highway peg, and the centerstand also got bent up. The rider was fine (Yaay for gear!). The headlight glass (the glass from a big Magna works in a big Sabre), footpeg trim piece, highway peg and centerstand have been fixed.

I have to straighten the clutch lever and figure out what is wrong with the fan. Yippee! electrical problems!  

Despite the wreck (and my stupidity/arrogance), it was a great day. A bad day on the bike is better than any time in the cage, right?   ; )

a faux pass?

Last night was yet another brew night. However, it didn't go as smoothly as it usually does. This was an Irish Dry Stout kit that my buddy Skip sent to me.

I got everything cleaned and sanitized and got my yeast rehydrated without issue. However, I was worried about where I was going to ferment this because the yeast for it needs to ferment between 65* and 70*. That is difficult this time of year, when your fermentation chamber is tied up lagering (at 34*) -- especially when we don't run the AC.

So while my water is coming up to temperature, I am scouting a solution of how and where I will ferment this batch. I finally decided, I could set it in the master bathroom bathtub, as Dad only uses his shower stall. I could run a fan in there and it wouldn't bother him and fill the tub with some water to keep it a cooler, more even temperature. Super! got that solved.

Problem was, the time it took to come to that conclusion, my steeping water had exceeded 155* by about 30*. DOH! Now I had to wait until it cooled. I could add some cold water but I didn't want to mess up the water:grain ratio. I could have dumped it and started over, but that seemed to be a waste. So I just waited.

Once it got to 160*, I set my grain bag in and let that help bring the temp down some. I steeped for 35 minutes instead of my usual 45 this time, as I had lost time waiting on it to cool down. Heck, I didn't wish to be up all night.

While steeping, the bag kept "sticking" to the bottom of the brewpot, if I stopped stirring it, for even a second. This is highly uncharacteristic. I can usually walk away for a couple seconds (to get another beer, or whatever) without that happening.

At the end of the 35 minutes, I attempted to pour the grain tea over the grain bag. I had the bright idea that I could hold my collander (that was too small) on the edge of my 7.5 gallon brewpot that I had my boiling water in while pouring the grain tea over the grain bag.

Heh,, that's what I get for thinking! Sure as anything I dropped the collander into the boiling water, before I even began pouring. I needed to get it out of there quickly as it was plastic and the water was boiling, so I quickly grabbed it with my bare hands. Yow! boiling water and bare skin are not a favorable match -- just in case you ever wondered.

I called Melissa in to help me transfer it over. Using an extra set of hands seemed to work a little better. However, upon pouring it all over, I had a molasses-like syrup left in the bottom of the steeping pot. WTF?!? never seen that before! Anyway, I went ahead and used a rubber spatula and transferred the syrupy goo into the boiling water.

The rest of the process went without any more trouble. I added my extracts, sugar (it's a DRY stout), and first and only hop addition and let it boil.

At the end of the boil, my 4 bags of salted ice got the wort cooled down to 70* in a reasonable time. I didn't time it, but it seemed to take the normal 20-ish minutes. I racked it, aerated, and pitched the yeast.

My gravity sample came out within .002 of what it was supposed to be and tasted okay. So despite, my "trying" to screw it up, it seems it will be fine. It was already bubbling at a good rate within 12 hours of pitching it.

garage follies -- forkin' nut

The day got off to a good start when my rear tire arrived -- again. I say "again", because I ordered the wrong size by clicking the wrong submenu thing and a moment's inattention had me a 15" tire rather than a 17" tire.. DOH!

I called up Dennis Kirk and the nice lady who answered the phone informed me customer service wasn't due in for another half hour. However, she asked if she could be of assistance and I told her of my faux pas and wanted to know how to go about correcting it. She was awesome!

She re-ordered the RIGHT tire for me (heh, take me out of the equation and see what happens?) and told me how to pack up the wrong tire and send it back. The credit card would be billed the balance of the cost of the right tire and that was it. Sweet!

Another thumbs up for Dennis Kirk!! They will see more business from me.

Anyway, that tire showed up today, so I went and got it mounted and balanced on my wheel. I got home and installed it back on the bike. I also changed the oil and the filter while at it.

So far, so good. Any of you who know of me and my experiences with a wrench, know this cannot last.   ;j

Since I was on a roll, I decided to tackle my leaky fork seals and get ready to take apart the forks to put in the progressive forks Mr. Blum sent me some time last year (thanks again Tom).

So I jacked up the bike, pulled the front wheel, and set about removing the dust seals on the forks. The right side -- the one that had been leaking -- came off without issue.Still rolling along ... until ... I suddenly remembered why I HATE fork seals.

The left one ... looked ... AWFUL! It was nothing but RUST RUST RUST! Yeepers!

I hit it with some rust buster and waited a half hour. I went back and sopped it up and fished around for the eyes of the snap rings. I couldn't find them! There was so much rust in there I could see the ring itself but never located the eyes.

A-HA! compressed air to the rescue. I blew out all the oxidized pieces that I was unable to "fish" out, and voila there were the eyes just staring at me.   ; )    I got the snap ring pliers on them and one side came free. YAAAY! but the other just laughed at me.

Dammit! I recall this problem a few years ago, here we go again. However, this time was a much better result as I was able to get it out without it breaking it or having it remain stuck in the recess. Daaannngg, still rolling!

Okay, now down to the bottom of the forks. There is a bolt in the very bottom of each of the fork sliders that needs to come out. Every ...  stinkin' ... bolt on this bike is tightened to German torquing requirements -- Gutentight!

John Fowler who sold the bike to me was a big feller. If he did use a torque wrench, I am just that weak.   ; )

These two bolts on the bottom of the slider legs were no exception. I had a hard time getting either of them to break loose. I crawled under to look at the bolts only to find that they resembled more a star torx bolt pattern than the intended allen screw. I then started knocking the next bigger allen wrench socket in the hole and was able to break *one* of them free.

The one on the other side, not so much. No matter what I did, it didn't budge!

I finally yanked out a drill and figured I would drill off the head of the bolt (actually this was a suggestion from a buddy of mine -- thanks Ozzie). I got close to the recess of the fork leg slider and was concerned I may drill into it, so quit drilling and went back to trying to beat a socket in that would turn it, now that there was a new sized hole to work with.

Well, that finally did it! It came loose and I didn't do any harm to the fork leg sliders. YAAY! By this time, it is late, and I needed to refer to a schematic on my computer to see what all needed to come off the top of the forks, so I called it quits and revelled in the fact that I hadn't broke anything.   ; )

this is not your general's porter

About a week and a half ago my buddy Skip and I were chatting online about my brewing. He has been saying for a while now that he wants to come down and sample some of my brews.

I figured that I would try and brew a style of beer that he prefers. Upon asking him a preference, though, his answer was "my favorite beer is the one in my hand" -- while a good answer, not really what I was looking for. I haven't made a porter yet and had been thinking about doing one as I do like that style

He finally suggested a porter (sick minds and all that) he likes and I told him I would search for a recipe. I never found the particular one he was wanting, but apparently, I wasn't the only one searching as he sent me a link to a recipe (which I had just seen a few minutes earlier).

It was a recipe for General George Washington's Porter -- or at least a derivation of it. Some of the ingredients are no longer available and the fermentation procedure is substantially different due to better technology and overall knowledge. It wouldn't be his version, but based upon it at least. So anyway, I went ahead and ordered the ingredients for it.

I made a 1.5 liter starter for my yeast two days prior to brewing because it had been in the heat during shipping and I was concerned about the health of the cells. I never saw any action in the starter, but I didn't see any the first time I made one either.

Anyway, I did my usual setup of two boil pots -- one for steeping my grains and the other for boiling water. When the steeping pot got to 155*, I added the grains. Immediately, the water turned black. Usually it takes a few seconds for color to disperse through the water, but this time, it turned as soon as the grain bag hit the water.

After 45 minutes of smelling this roasty, coffee-ish goodness, I added this to the boil pot. I love the smell of coffee brewing, but just cannot stand the taste of it. It doesn't make any sense to me, but that's just the way it is.

Anyway, I then let the wort come up to a  rigorous boil and added my extract and bittering hops. Thirty minutes later, another hop addition, followed by one more 15 minutes after that. The recipe also called for molasses to be added at this point. This brew is dark enough already; 8 oz. of molasses would devour light.  ; )

I got it chilled down to 80* in 15 minutes time (4 bags of ice is the way to go --even for a full boil). It was then racked into my fermenter, aerated, and then I pitched the yeast. Within 12 hours it was bubbling, so there was enough healthy yeast cells to at least get started.

The gravity sample read 1.050 which was about 6 points low, but I am not worried about it. I tasted the sample and it was not the sweet syrup most worts tend to be.

This had a good flavor to it and was pure black, like a good porter should be. They say stout is porter's big brother. While both are good beers, I favor a porter over a stout anytime and this seems like it's going to be good, even if it's not what ol' George intended it to be.

Go big or go home ...

While at Tellico this year, a buddy of mine handed me a beer as a present for my birthday. It was a barleywine. I have heard of this style of beer before but never had the desire to brew one as it is supposed to be on the insane end of hoppiness. I like a hoppy beer but if that is all that can be tasted, I would rather pursue other, more balanced styles.

Anyway, the beer he handed me was a Sierra Nevada Bigfoot. These are brewed every year and many folks will allow theirs to age for a year or so prior to trying them. This was the 2011 version and it was ... just … well, awesome!   ; )

Ever since then, I was convinced I was going to ttry and brew a batch of this once I found the recipe. Heh, well, upon finding a recipe kit for it, I found that it carried a price tag appropriate for such a high alcohol, hoppy, malt-based beer. In spite of the high price, I went ahead and ordered a kit. 

The kit came with 3 pounds of grain, 12 pounds of malt extract, and 7 oz. of hops. Yup, it’s gonna be a BIG beer!

I brewed it Friday evening, but I was apprehensive at best. This is my first “big” beer – and at that cost that if I screwed it up, it’d be an expensive mistake!

This recipe called for first wort hopping which is typically done during the first runoff in an all-grain mash, which I am not setup to do just yet. I went ahead and threw the hops dedicated for this into the 4 gallons of water as it came to a boil and figured that would have to work. What else could I do?

So while that was coming to a boil, I steeped my grains (all 3 pounds worth!) at 155* for 45 minutes. At the end of steeping I managed to break my strainer as the weight of that 3 pounds of grain, plus all the water they were retaining, was too heavy for that mesh. Yippee!

I added the grain tea to the hoppy water that had been boiling. Then added the 12 pounds of extract and my bittering hops. After 45 minutes I added the aroma hops, some Irish Moss, and yeast nutrient.

Then it was ready for the ice bath and I was able to get it down to pitching temperature (about 80*) in about 20 minutes as usual. I racked it into my fermenter, aerated, and pitched my TWO packets of rehydrated yeast (after all it is a high alcohol beer, gonna need a lotta yeast!).

Within 12 hours that thing was bubbling rapidly and had a nice thick head of krausen on it. Yaaay … it’s beer!    ; )