My family and I spent the weekend beer-and-loafing our way through Westport, Washington—a windswept, fog-haloed salt lick of a coastal town where time slows to a saunter and the scent of smoked salmon haunts the driftwood like an ancestral ghost. I had grand designs of long beach walks, windblown introspection, and perhaps a moody selfie or two with a rogue seagull.
But alas, nature had other, more gelatinous plans.
Reason One: Westport is under siege. Not by tourists or economic redevelopment (ha), but by millions—and I do mean millions—of iridescent, alienesque, mysteriously beautiful sea blobs called Velella velella, or as their friends call them, “by-the-wind sailors.” These translucent, purple-tinted, jellyfish-adjacent creatures resemble tiny maritime UFOs with delicate sails, normally adrift in the open ocean, living their best planktonic lives. But warm currents and moody storms have conspired to shove them ashore en masse, where they promptly perish in great stinking heaps of sad, rubbery translucence.
The result? The beach looks like a Lisa Frank fever dream gone necrotic. A glittering, purple funeral stretching for miles.
Ah, yes, the second invasion—not jellyfish this time, but humans. Thirsty, sun-dazed, flip-flopped pilgrims in search of shade, snacks, and a pint that doesn’t taste like regret. Forget sandcastles. Westport’s new frontier is foam-forward, family-inclusive, and gloriously loafable. The bar stools are occupied. The patios are humming. The air smells less like sea rot and more like Centennial hops and slightly overcooked fish and chips. It is, against all odds, a beer town now.
Tourism has long been the lifeblood of Westport, of course—charter boats, taffy shops, whale watching, that sort of salty Americana that makes you consider a beard and a life at sea. But now, there’s something fermenting beneath the surface. Something communal, convivial, carbonated. Beer. And not just beer, but a philosophy—a taproom theology, if you will—borrowed from the beer gardens of Western Europe, where ale is the social glue, and where it is entirely appropriate for your toddler to be dancing barefoot to yacht rock while you sip a double IPA and discuss fermentation temps with a man named Gary.
On opposite ends of town, two breweries have become unofficial temples of this gospel. Westport Brewing Co. to the west, Bog Water Brewing Co. to the south. Both boast sprawling patios with full sun, communal tables, and enough casual charm to make you forget all about the beach, the jellyfish, and the vague existential dread of modern life. At Bog Water, the brewery recently ditched its three-barrel system in favor of a big-kid 10-barrel setup, the better to deliver its crisp blonde ale and rye-kissed pale ale to the growing masses. Their 7.2% ABV IPA is still in the chrysalis, but lo, the buzz has begun.
Across town at Westport Brewing, brewer Chris Goehrung—desert-born, Bay Area-brew-curious, now Pacific soggy and proud—runs a nimble three-barrel operation like a man possessed by variety. The beers change as fast as the tides, but his Riptide Red IRA remains the flagship: a spicy, citrus-twanged siren song of Melanoidin malt and enough hop complexity to make you wish you’d paid more attention during your Cicerone flashcards. His light-bodied Cohasset Cream Ale and Tinderbox coffee-laced Shoalwater Stout are local staples, the latter caffeinated enough to pass for breakfast and beloved enough to make even a seagull reconsider sobriety.
Westport Brewing operates a three-barrel system, which it digs as brewer Chris Goehrung enjoys churning out different beers as fast as folks will empty the kegs. Raised in Phoenix, Goehrung met his wife, Amber, in San Francisco, where he learned to love craft beer. One thing led to another, and Goehrung became the brewery’s fourth brewmaster, launching his career with his favorite Riptide Red IRA, a spicy malt and citrus treat brewed with Melanoidin and Victory malts and Cascade, Chinook, Columbus, and Citra hops. Goehrung’s light Cohasset Cream Ale and Shoalwater Stout are crowd favorites. The locals, who make up 50 percent of the business in the winter and 20 percent in the summer, enjoy the stout as the popular Westport coffee roaster Tinderbox adds its Matchbox Blend coffee to the rich, full-bodied stout.
And lest you think this is just a summer fling, know this: the locals are in on it. In winter, they make up half the taproom traffic. In summer, they gracefully cede 80% of their stools to the seasonal tide of tourists and IPA pilgrims.
Oh, and a third brewery—Blackbeard’s Brewing Company—is under construction. Because, of course, it is. One can only assume pirates and imperial stouts will be involved.
So, if you were still wondering: is beer a reason to visit Westport?
BOG WATER BREWING CO., 2858 S. Forrest St., Westport, 360.268.7082,
WESTPORT BREWING CO., 118 W. Pacific Ave., Westport, 307.421.4411
