What’s in your camp cooler, friend? Not the neon sports drink. Not that lone sad light lager your uncle insists is “just fine.” We’re talking real cooler magic—the kind forged under trail dust and pine boughs, cooled by glacier melt and sheer willpower, cracked open under skies inked in burnt sienna and loon calls. Peaks & Pints Tuesday Camp Cooler Flight is your curated lineup of trail-worthy wonders: regenerative lagers, riverbank citrus bombs, forest-steeped pale ales, bonfire-blasted West Coasts, and one midnight-smoked legend brewed in the language of embers. It’s a flight for hikers, paddlers, hammock philosophers, and wild-toothed summer beasts who believe beer should tell a story—and maybe light one more match before the night ends.
Peaks & Pints Tuesday Camp Cooler Flight
Deschutes Kernza Lager — The Regenerative Reset
4.7% ABV
This isn’t just your first beer out of the cooler—it’s your soul’s palate cleanser, your eco-flavored sigh of relief after too much sun and not enough hydration. Brewed by Deschutes Brewery in collaboration with Patagonia Provisions, this organic lager leans on Kernza®, a deep-rooted perennial grain that doesn’t just grow—it heals. The result? A golden, lightly floral pour with lemon zest brightness and a touch of toasty grain depth, like a pilsner that studied ecology and came back enlightened. It’s light, yes, but not forgettable—this beer whispers of riverbank wildflowers and carbon sequestration, of choices that matter and barley fields that don’t end in ruin. It tastes like a clean conscience and a crisp sunset—refreshment with purpose.
Firestone Cali Squeeze Blood Orange — The Riverbank Citrus Crush
5% ABV
This one doesn’t walk—it cannonballs. Brewed by Firestone Walker Brewing, this bright, sun-blasted wheat ale juiced with real blood orange hits like that first icy plunge into a mountain-fed lake: shocking, delicious, and exactly what you didn’t know you needed. It pours like citrus sunrise, tastes like liquid vacation, and finishes so clean it practically asks you to open another. There’s wheat softness at the core, sure, but make no mistake—this is juice-forward joy with a twist of West Coast swagger. It’s your camp cooler’s answer to river float thirst, frisbee fatigue, or anything that demands a bright, tangy exclamation point mid-flight.
Bizarre Dripping Earth Pale — The Foraged Forest Groove
5.1% ABV
This is the beer you drink barefoot on moss, one hand on bark, the other around this wild and whispering fir-tip pale ale from Bizarre Brewing in Seattle. Brewed with foraged Douglas fir tips and branches—yes, actual evergreen twigs steeped like forest tea—it’s a pale ale that hums in green minor chords: earthy citrus, alpine breeze, a bit of soft pine smoke clinging to the finish like a memory you didn’t mean to keep. Crisp Kölsch yeast lifts it into something strange and lyrical, while flaked oats smooth it all into a woodland sigh. Imagine if a rain-drenched trailhead wrote you a love poem and poured it into a glass. That’s Dripping Earth. Sip it slowly. Go barefoot. Or do both.
Black Plague Eternal Summer IPA — The Bonfire Showstopper
7.2% ABV
A West Coast IPA brewed for perpetual golden hour, Black Plague Brewing teamed up with Tarantula Hill Brewing Co. to deliver a fire-lit classic. It glows like embers and hits like sunset behind a ridge—zesty citrus, beach-pine resin, and the resinous bite of eternal youth. Sharp. Dry. Righteous. Like your friend who brought a speaker and queued up the perfect tracklist. Drink up, the night is still young, and the s’mores haven’t even started.
Alaskan Smoked Porter — The Midnight Toast
6.5% ABV
Here it is—the last beer in your hand as the fire flickers low and someone strums the opening chords of something sad but perfect. First brewed in 1988 and still smoked over real Alaskan alder wood like salmon for the gods, this legendary porter from Alaskan Brewing Company tastes like everything you want to remember and nothing you’d dare forget: burnt marshmallow and dark chocolate, old coffee and sweet tobacco, a little leather, a little myth. The smoke doesn’t scream—it lingers, whispers, curls around your tongue like campfire stories told twice. And like any great midnight toast, it says just enough and fades before you can reply. Drink reverently. Or wrapped in flannel.
LINK: Peaks & Pints beer and cider cooler inventory