#17 - Has It Really Been That Long?

Blimey. Has it really been that long since the last update?

I'm already struggling to remember half of what I've been up to, which probably says more about my memory than the number of adventures I've actually had. To be honest, on the running front things have remained fairly consistent. Early alarms, pre-dawn miles, Saturday long runs and an annoyingly persistent hip flexor injury.

In other words, business as usual.

Since the Rose of the Shires fiasco, my approach to running has been less about chasing distances and more about finding a level that I actually enjoy. That's easier said than done when you've spent months convincing yourself that anything under twenty miles somehow counts as a "short" run.

The hip remains a mystery. Some days it behaves itself. Other days it reminds me that I'm no longer twenty-five and perhaps shouldn't treat my body like a hire car. Nevertheless, the miles continue to accumulate.

Norfolk: Flatter Than Yorkshire, But Not By Much

One welcome break from the routine came during our only real holiday of the year. Although "holiday" might be overselling it slightly. "Long weekend" is probably more accurate.

We headed to Norfolk with the girls, somewhere none of us had visited before.

If I'm honest, my expectations weren't particularly high.

I was wrong.

Norfolk was much better than I'd imagined.

One thing that surprised me was the terrain. Like many people, I'd always pictured Norfolk as being utterly flat. You know the phrase "as flat as a witch's..." well, let's just say Norfolk has always had that reputation.

Apparently nobody told the coastline.

I had planned a simple 10k route to run each morning while everyone else enjoyed the luxury of a lie-in. The first morning started well enough until I realised I'd been running downhill for over a mile.

Not gently downhill either.

Properly downhill.

This immediately created a problem because the route was an out-and-back. Every metre of descent was effectively being banked for later repayment.

Then matters deteriorated further.

Turning onto the coastal path, I was greeted by what felt like the entire North Sea attempting to move inland. The wind was reportedly around 40mph with gusts nudging 60mph.

Wonderful.

Nothing quite sharpens the senses like grinding into a gale while carrying the remnants of the previous evening's beer consumption.

By the second morning I knew exactly what was coming and somehow disliked it even more.

Norfolk Beer: Embracing Tradition

The beer side of the trip was a pleasant surprise too.

On the journey across, I planned a sensible stop at a local brewery. By "sensible", I obviously mean somewhere I could stretch my legs, have a pint and buy a few beers.

The brewery itself was very traditional, which is fairly representative of what I found across much of Norfolk. The beers were solid, well-made and thoroughly drinkable.

Unfortunately they weren't quite memorable enough for me to remember the brewery's name as I write this.

Not ideal.

What I did know before travelling was that Norfolk isn't exactly at the cutting edge of modern craft brewing. Aside from Duration and one or two others, the county tends to lean heavily towards traditional brewing styles.

Rather than fight it, I embraced it.

Cask ales.

Traditional bitters.

Classic bottled beers.

All perfectly enjoyable.

One particular highlight was finally having Woodforde's Wherry on cask. It's one of those iconic beers I'd somehow managed to avoid over the years, and I can see why it's remained popular for so long. Nothing flashy. Nothing trendy. Just a properly balanced, highly drinkable beer.

Sometimes that's enough.

Research Continues

Back home, my ongoing beer "research" has continued unabated courtesy of Brewser, Bayley's and the occasional trip into Worcester.

Current brewery favourites remain remarkably consistent.

Nothing Bound, Baron, Attic and Copper Beech are all producing beers that rarely disappoint.

Copper Beech, in particular, continues to impress me.

In fact, I was recently reminded that I'd promised a mate from the homebrew club I'd help him at an event in Great Malvern.

He'd volunteered to sell both his own beers and Copper Beech's beers on behalf of the brewery, who were short-staffed at the time.

Being the supportive friend that I am, I agreed to help.

Sadly, the event itself wasn't exactly a craft beer goldmine.

Sunday afternoon.

Great Malvern.

Family-focused event.

You can probably see the issue.

While there was decent footfall, there weren't exactly hundreds of thirsty beer geeks queuing up for fresh pale ales and IPAs. I genuinely felt for my mate because the effort involved in setting up and running the stand far outweighed the rewards.

Still, it was a good day and a useful reminder of how much hard work goes into small-scale beer businesses.

Belgium, Germany and a Car Full of Beer

The biggest beer adventure, however, came through work.

Normally I'd fly into the Netherlands and drive around Germany visiting customers. This time I decided to drive from the UK instead.

As it turned out, this was an inspired decision.

It coincided with one of the hottest periods of the year, with temperatures nudging well over 40°C across parts of Europe.

Instead of melting in airports, I moved from air-conditioned car to air-conditioned hotel.

Luxury.

The added benefit, of course, was that I could bring beer home.

The first overnight stop was Antwerp.

A pleasant city and home to a highly recommended bar called Dr Beer. Four-beer flight. Excellent selection. Strong enough that I was thankful I wasn't driving anywhere afterwards.

From there it was several days around Germany.

As always, the Germans continue to produce beer with an astonishing level of consistency.

Does some of it blur together?

Perhaps.

But give me a brilliant German pils and I'm a happy man.

They simply know what they're doing.

Bruges and the Cult of Belgian Beer

On the return journey I deliberately planned an overnight stay in Bruges.

What a place.

It's genuinely one of the most beautiful cities I've visited, looking less like a city and more like somebody built a living museum and forgot to modernise it.

The beer destination was obvious.

De Garre.

The supposedly secret bar hidden down a narrow alleyway that isn't actually secret at all.

Just follow the American tourists.

You'll find it.

Recommended by several beer nerd friends and featured by the Craft Beer Channel, it seemed rude not to visit.

The thing about Belgian beer culture is that it's unlike anywhere else.

Firstly, the choice is overwhelming. You don't receive a menu so much as a small library.

Secondly, every beer apparently requires its own specific glass. I appreciate glassware matters. That's Beer Nerd 101. But the Belgians have elevated it to an art form.

Thirdly, everything is strong.

Very strong.

Judging by some of the locals staggering gently between tables, this remains true even if you've spent your entire life drinking the stuff.

And finally, there exists a certain confidence—some might say arrogance—that Belgian beer is unquestionably the finest beer in the world.

I'm not entirely convinced.

De Garre and Beyond

Naturally, the first beer was De Garre Tripel, the house speciality only available at the bar.

At around 11%, it had absolutely no right to be as easy-drinking as it was.

After that I ventured into lambic and gueuze territory.

Interesting.

Complex.

Worth trying.

But one glass was enough.

Finally, acting on the recommendation of another beer-obsessed friend, I finished with an enormous imperial stout served in a clay mug and comfortably exceeding 10%.

Excellent.

As a bonus, every drink arrived with cubes of cheese.

Strange.

Entirely unnecessary.

Completely brilliant.

So, Is Belgian Beer The Best?

Before driving back through France and onto Le Shuttle, I stopped at a Belgian supermarket.

My goodness.

The beer aisle alone was larger than some UK bottle shops.

Shelves and shelves of Belgian beer stretching in every direction.

I bought as much as I could reasonably carry and shared the haul with my beer mate.

The verdict?

They're all good.

Some are excellent.

But I haven't been blown away.

The problem, for me at least, is variety. After a while many Belgian beers start to share the same DNA. They're complex, strong and characterful, but they're rarely beers I want to drink pint after pint.

Perhaps that's why I keep returning to good pale ales, West Coast IPAs and traditional lagers.

They're beers I can happily spend an evening with.

So while Belgium undoubtedly produces some wonderful beers, I'm still not buying into the notion that the rest of the world's brewing is somehow second-rate.

The Belgians might disagree.

But then again, they're entitled to be wrong.

Until next time, the running continues, the hip remains questionable, and the beer research shows no signs of slowing down.