There is a very specific kind of optimism that only exists at 1:00 PM on a sunny Saturday, usually right before a group of friends makes a decision that their future selves will deeply regret.
For us, that decision was "The Great Brewery Crawl."
The logistics were, in a word, precarious. We didn’t have a fleet of matching Trek road bikes; we had a motley collection of borrowed, hastily repaired, and "mostly functional" bicycles. We were dropped off at our first stop like a troop of overly ambitious scouts, our spirits high and our balance centers still fully operational.
Looking back now, that day was more than just a ride; it was a journey through a landscape of survivors and legends. While the map of Woodinville's beer scene is always shifting, some of the foundational pioneers are still holding the line, while others have become fond memories of a specific era.
Our journey began in Bothell at Foggy Noggin. For those who don’t know, Foggy Noggin is the kind of place that makes you love the Pacific Northwest. It’s a production microbrewery run out of a residential garage. We spent the afternoon in the yard, sipping traditional English-style ales—likely the Bit O’ Beaver—while the sun beat down and the conversation flowed. It was the perfect appetizer: low-key, authentic, and the only stop on our list that still welcomes the neighborhood with open garage doors today.
From there, we embarked on a 6.4-kilometer trek toward Woodinville. We cruised along sections of the Sammamish River Trail, passing rolling green pastures and the kind of industrial architecture that defines the region. At this stage, we were still "cycling." We were in a rhythm. We were confident.
We rolled into Brickyard Brewing, tucked away in a business park. Brickyard had that rugged, no-nonsense industrial vibe that felt like the heartbeat of Woodinville’s craft movement. We tackled a flight of solid American-style ales, the kind of beers that build a foundation for a long day.
A short, 1.6-kilometer glide brought us to Twelve Bar Brews. If Brickyard was the muscle, Twelve Bar was the soul. Deeply connected to the local blues and music scene, the vibe here was rhythmic and relaxed. We sampled their Ipso Facto IPA, and as the flight glasses emptied, the conversation shifted from "where are we going next?" to "do we really need to bike the next part?"
The ride to Triplehorn Brewing was a 3.2-kilometer stretch where the laws of physics began to shift. The "diminishing returns" of our cycling skills became apparent. The bikes felt heavier; the road felt narrower.
Stepping into Triplehorn was like walking into a Viking beer hall. Huge wooden tables, a massive warehouse space, and a total lack of pretension. But Triplehorn was also the danger zone. They specialized in high-gravity, heavy-hitting pours like the Inception Imperial IPA.
This is where the "trajectory" changed. Between the high-ABV beers and the sheer scale of the hall, the first few tumbles occurred. Someone lost a battle with a kickstand; someone else simply forgot how a bicycle worked. The good-natured ribbing reached a fever pitch. We were no longer a cycling group; we were a slow-moving caravan of camaraderie and instability.
To this day, Triplehorn remains a powerhouse of the Woodinville scene—still locally owned and operated by the Nesheim brothers, serving up those bold, heavy-hitting beers seven days a week from their 144th Ave NE spot.
The final 3.2-kilometer leg to Sumerian Brewing Company was less of a ride and more of a choreographed struggle. We wobbled our way south toward the Hollywood District, our balance centers now merely suggestions.
We finished at Sumerian, which provided the perfect contrast to the day's chaos. It was sleek, polished, and energetic, with an outdoor patio that felt like a victory lap. We ended the day with pints of Narcissism West Coast IPA, watching the sun dip lower, reflecting on the miles logged and the dignity lost.
While the original chapter run by Holly and Mark Ihrig closed in late 2023, the space continues to be a hub for great beer, now home to Watts Brewing.
In the years since that ride, the map has shifted, but the spirit remains. Brickyard and Twelve Bar have become the genuine legacy spots of the tour, remaining as fond memories of the roads we traveled.
But the heart of the scene still beats. From the enduring garage-door charm of Foggy Noggin to the Viking halls of Triplehorn, some legends are here to stay. When I think back to that day, I don’t just remember the flights of beer or the bruised shins from falling off borrowed bikes. I remember the feeling of a community in its prime—a collection of passionate brewers and a group of friends who weren't afraid to look ridiculous on two wheels.
It was a perfect day of bikes, brews, and friends. A toast to the survivors and the legends of Woodinville.