James McKew

Crested Butte, Colorado, the once busy coal mining town turned outdoor adventure Mecca, is a crossroads of differing cultures and ideas. Where a twenty something mountain bike bum and a glossy European tourist can sit down over beers and walkway feeling like each got the better end of the stick. It’s a town caught between the rustic Victorian downtown and the nearby upscale ski resort community of Mt. Crested Butte.

I for one am a tourist, no doubt about it, which makes me one of the nameless masses that expects their mountain vacation experience to include shopping for the most decadent  frappuccino and the perfect refrigerator magnet. Even though I live only three hours north of here, this town is a world away from the desert air of the Grand Valley.

I like it here, the town is small, I can easily walk from the hotel to downtown. It’s the kind of place where I could see myself retiring to a little log cabin with a hammock stretched between two aspen trees and beers every afternoon during the rain showers.

Speaking of beer, let me tell you about the main reason for coming to Crested Butte; The Eldo, a micro-brewery located upstairs in the middle of town with all the charm that you would expect to find in a frat house basement; a low ceiling, dark walls, pool table and a stage in the back for live music, tonight it’s a double bill of Von Stomper and Gun Rack.

A group of regular customers crowd near one end of the bar, not even drinking mind you, just hanging out and taking up every stool. Katie pushes in, claims a couple seats for us and gets the bartender’s attention. We taste what’s being brewed at the moment, Wild Iris Seasonal Ale, 4.8% abu, 44 ibu, with a smoky taste and beautiful golden color that has an amazing ability to transform my petulant attitude about the Eldo’s decor into a relaxing and comfortable place to be. After half a glass, I feel as if our quest to find the perfect Rocky Mountain elixir is complete, but I’m wrong in my assumption. The beer here is better than that…much better.

Wild Iris might very-well be something of a secret handshake that allows you into the frat boy’s basement but once inside, there are other brewed gems that need to be experienced.

I loosen up and start humming along with Bob Dylan as he sings about being a rolling stone. The barmaid (is she a barmaid or a bartender? I don’t want to insult anybody, especially someone wielding this kind of power over my immediate enjoyment), she pours us a sample of Coronation Belgium Pale Ale, 6.0% abu, 27 ibu.  It tastes like beer that spent time fermenting inside a burnt wine barrel; I like it- really like its dark musky flavor with little to no aftertaste.

We move out of the darkness and onto the sunny balcony overlooking Elk Avenue. The view is full-bodied and totally what you would expect from a Rocky Mountain destination; pine covered mountains provide the perfect backdrop to the brightly painted Victorian businesses that line the narrow street below. The sidewalks are filled with an eclectic mix of mountain bikers, aging tourists and the second-home ski rich dragging behind them a string of young kids with ice cream cones and new tee shirts. The balcony is my watchtower to drink it all in. A Land Rover insists on squeezing into a VW sized spot, Harley’s mass together on one corner, bicycles coast downhill towards the bed and breakfast district. The one thing that everyone can agree upon, this is a magical laidback place.

Katie disappears and returns with a pint of Double Top, Belgium Dubble, 6.9%, 22 ibu. Full-bodied, malty with light carbonation that fills my senses with a refreshingly rooty taste that makes the idea of cruising through the woods on a bike seem all the more appealing. My teeth go numb after half a glass, maybe it’s the alcohol or possibly the high altitude, nearly 8900 feet, but leaving the barstool at this point would be a risky proposition. Katie disappears again…

The crowd on the balcony is considerably younger than either of us, mostly locals who work and bike their way through summer jobs. The talk is loud and dotted with laughter. A tourist from New York City entertains a couple next to us with tales of writing books and years of penny-pinching for his dream vacation to Crested Butte. Someone close by lights up a joint and a face full of Colorado’s latest libertarian experiment drifts past all of us.

I get a text on my phone from Katie.

“I cannot open the door to get out of the bathroom.”

Do I check my phone every five minutes?

No- especially not on vacation.

Somehow she frees herself for the porcelain prison and comes back outside.

The food arrives none too soon, this is not gourmet offering mind you, nor is it intended to be- it’s bar food. I have the bacon cheese burger with onion rings that fulfills my cravings for gut-busting fried things and Katie has the cheese burger and fries which she insists is the best burger she has EVER eaten. Even weeks after the trip she holds fast to her assertions. The beef is locally raised, all natural, grass fed cows and it is very tasty.

Indeed Crested Butte has something great going for it, even on a busy summer weekend the vibe is laid back and you feel like there’s elbow room. Touristy? Yes. Bad touristy? No. Get off Elk Avenue and take a walk into the surrounding streets for quiet mountain views and beautifully adorned houses.

Ratings:

The Eldo

Wild Iris Season Ale ***

Coronation Belgium Pale Ale ***

Double Top Belgium Dubble ****

Location ****

Food ***

Cost $$ average

What we did:

Stayed at the Old Town Inn (888) 349-6184

Walked to downtown and looked in clothing shops and art galleries.

Checked out Totem Pole Park (do not miss this one.)

Dinner at the Eldo.

Purchased a book at Townie Books and a cool tee shirt at Dragonfly Anglers.

Breakfast of huevos rancheros at the Paradise Café.

Next time I go:

Stay three days.

Mountain bike and hike in the mountains.

Spend a morning fly fishing.