If you’re still chasing joy in material things, in productivity apps and inbox zeroes, in relentless digital preening and endorphin-sucking social media rituals—darling, you’re doing it all wrong. Connection, real connection, doesn’t emerge from perfectly filtered cappuccino shots or treadmill marathons of status updates. No, it happens in the sunlight, on a wobbly bike, with strangers, over beers. Obviously.
Such was the revelation of yesterday’s BikeroBrew (say it aloud: by-kroh-broo, like a password to a secret club that smells vaguely of malt and possibility). A 35-human peloton of giddy, half-hydrated cyclists pedaled from one downtown Tacoma brewery to the next, high-fiving history and swapping beer samples like communion wafers along the way. There were no finish-line medals, no FitBit achievements, no athletic trauma disguised as leisure. Just laughter, sunshine, tiny beers, and one heroic human pyramid.
Why beer and bikes? No one really knows. Some say it’s a shared DNA strand of rebellion and fleece. Others believe New Belgium’s Fat Tire started it all, gifting us a mythos of pedal-powered bliss and IPA enlightenment. Whatever the cosmic reason, the bond is real. Locally, Harmon Brewing’s informal bike club keeps the spokes turning, while breweries statewide throw a leg over the crossbar of cycling culture.
The inaugural BikeroBrew offered up a four-stop tasting tour of downtown Tacoma’s fermented treasures: Pacific Brewing & Malting Co., Wingman Brewers, Odd Otter Brewing Co., and Tacoma Brewing Co. The day began in four rotating squads, each blessed with a brewery, a guide, and the sort of giddy field trip energy usually reserved for fifth graders on sugar highs.
My crew kicked off under the gentle stewardship of Steve Navarro, co-owner and wizard-in-chief at Pacific Brewing. His brew house, though small (a mighty seven barrels, occasionally pushed to nine in moments of madness), holds multigenerational swagger. Once upon a pre-Prohibition past, the original Pacific Brewing was a Washington behemoth, slinging 70,000 barrels from a 25-building beer empire. Then, 1916 happened—Washington’s dry run before national Prohibition—and the taps ran dry. Navarro walked us through the modern rebirth, from grain mill to bright tank, while the group nodded solemnly, cups in hand, reverent in our shared education.
And then—beeryamid. Yes, a pyramid. Of humans. Tipsy ones.
Our next pilgrimage: a scenic ride down Dock Street, past glass museums and fish-scented breezes, to Wingman Brewers, where tour captains Justin and Jenn Grisham dropped knowledge bombs between quips and kept us gloriously upright. Inside Wingman, bartender Nic Chmiel slung tasters of Berliner Weisse, Black Currant Saison, and various hoppy spells while regulars looked on, half amused, half intrigued by our Lycra-less enthusiasm.
The ride continued into Tacoma’s Brewery District, where Justin pointed out not only past breweries, but also the exact addresses of now-defunct brothels and poker dens, because Tacoma history, like a good barleywine, is best served with a hint of moral ambiguity. Justin, ever the philosopher, summed it up: “Right now is the perfect time to start brewery bike touring because breweries are popping up everywhere.” Preach.
At Odd Otter, chaos reigned in the best possible way. Ottermelon Hefes and Coconut Chai Porters flowed like truth serum, and co-founder John Hotchkiss presided like a benevolent party deity. We sipped “Stuff Dutch People Like” while posing for our third beeryamid, then pedaled into the uphill abyss toward our final stop, humming “Eye of the Tiger” like warriors in a beer-soaked montage.
Tacoma Brewing Co. greeted us with Cards Against Humanity and the philosophical stylings of Morgan Alexander, whose golden-hued Aristotle’s Golden Mean IPA reminded us that sometimes the answer is in the middle—right between the hops and the haze. Though between brewing cycles due to a remodel, Alexander poured and pontificated with the calm of a man who knows the beer will flow again soon. And it did.
We ended where we began—at Pacific Brewing—now a reunion zone of helmet hair and mild sunburns, where hugs replaced handshakes and the last of the laughter dissolved into the evening air.
BikeroBrew returns Saturday, May 30, 2 p.m. (https://www.facebook.com/bikerobrew). Come for the beer. Stay for the high-fives. Rediscover your city. Find yourself mid-beeryamid, humming ‘The Gambler,’ with nothing but handlebars in front of you and a buzz in your chest. Connection achieved.
