Beer O'Clock: Big Kahuna

Do you remember those commercials for Hawaiian Punch from the 1970s?

It always bothered me that the nasally voiced guy who carried a tray with a refreshing drink would offer it to that unsuspecting fella, who would only receive a punch in the face.

That ain't right.

Years ago, I tried Spearhead Brewing Company's Hawaiian Style Pale Ale, and I was duly impressed: made with pineapple, this hoppy ale had loads of citrus flavour and was easy-drinking. It was perfect for a hot afternoon.

A few weeks ago, the wonderful folks of this brewery, who celebrated their one-year anniversary in its new Kingston home only this past weekend, reached out to me and asked if I would be interested in sampling a new release.

Who was I to say no?

As a full disclaimer, I agreed to accept their brew and to review it on the condition that my findings wouldn't hinge on the fact that I wasn't paying for it.

Just the other day, a package came to my door, and I was excited to see the brewery's name on the return address. I opened the box right away.

In the box were three black cans with a gold illustration that reminded me of their Hawaiian Style Pale Ale, and I got excited. The box also contained a Spearhead bottle opener (a bottle opener... for cans?) and a card that explained this new ale to me, as follows:

Ross,

It's been several years since we brewed the Big Kahuna, but it was worth the wait. I was a little worried at first because this was the first time we scaled up to full production as opposed to using our mini system to have kegs for festivals.

I was blown away by the awesome job Tom, Jacob and their team did. I hope you enjoy this beer as much as I do...

Cheers!

—Josh Hayter (President and CEO)

Josh also gave me contact details, should I have questions.

On the other side of the card, there was a description about this double-dry-hopped Imperial IPA, but I only glanced over it, not wanting to be influenced by any tasting notes until after I had tasted the beer, myself. What my eyes did see, right away, were numbers: 10 percent ABV; 100 IBUs.

My jaw dropped. This was going to be a serious brew. About a month ago, I reviewed an IPA with zero IBUs and said that high IBUs didn't necessarily impress me. I had remarked on a 129-IBU ale that I had, and I hated it because it reminded me of sucking on a dry teabag.

All bitterness: no flavour.

But I reminded myself that I haven't had a Spearhead brew that I didn't like. And if Big Kahuna was anything like its little brother, Hawaiian Style, I was in for a treat.

So, using the provided bottle opener, I cracked one open.

Big Kahuna Imperial IPA

Appearance: amber-red with a creamy, beige head that pours to a solid half-centimetre cap and shows minimal effervescence.

Nose: oranges and pineapple with a hint of caramel and Earl Grey tea. The aroma is beautiful.

Palate: remember that Hawaiian Punch commercial? Wham! Taking my first sip of Big Kahuna, there was a punch to my head from the high alcohol that came out fighting right from the beginning. There's a distinct bitterness in the mouth, but it's tempered by the Warrior, Cascade, Cashmere, and Halertau Blanc hops. The pineapple is definitely there, but it's overpowered by the strong, boozy finish.

Overall impression: I find it hard to reconcile the alcohol flavour, overall. This IIPA is certainly not for the feint of heart. While the 100 IBUs are tempered, the ABV is not.

The Hawaiian word kahuna refers to a wise man or shaman. While I enjoyed the flavour of the hops and what pineapple I could discern, I do question the wisdom of the alcohol content.

After my first pint, I felt this ale. I would highly recommend that you enjoy this IPA when you're at home and have nowhere to go.

If you like big flavour that carries a (Hawaiian) punch, this is the brew for you. It is a true warrior drink.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺 — this is a good example of an Imperial IPA and the selection of hops balances out its bitterness rating. This ale could have merited an extra 🍺 if the alcohol hadn't overpowered the pineapple. I'd drink it again (heck, I still have two cans!) but like my sample pint, I'd only have one at a sitting.

Big Kahuna is available at Spearhead's Kingston location (675 Development Drive, off Gardiners Road) and for online purchase through the company's Web site. The beer, which was released on March 30, will be available only while supplies last.

Tomorrow is also the Kingston Beer Festival and Spearhead will definitely be there. It's a great festival, so now you have two reasons to go to Kingston this weekend. (Click here for my Beer O'Clock review of the festival from a couple of years ago.)

My thanks to Amanda at Spearhead for the opportunity to try this ale.

Cheers!

Final Excursions

On the last day with our rental car, DW and I, for once, were in no rush go get out the door. Sure, we still wanted to beat the crowds, but who goes to a underground pool first thing in the morning?

A lot of people, apparently.

We got up at 7 (hey, for us, that's sleeping in!), and dressed for swimming, covering up with shorts and t-shirts, and loaded up our video cameras. I put my D-SLR in the hotel-room safe: I wasn't going to need it today.

We also wanted to make sure that we didn't apply any sunblock. Even though we bought bio-degradable sunscreen, most cenotes have a total ban. You must shower before you enter the water.

And we wanted to pack light because as soon as we returned the car in Tulum, we'd have to carry all of our belongings back to the resort. So I had the Insta360 camera, DW had our Sony Action Cam, and we each brought our smartphones, towels, and enough cash to catch a collectivo back to Akumal.

After a leisurely breakfast (I was not getting tired of the build-your-own omelettes), we hopped a trolley to our lobby and then hopped into our Chevy Beat (parking, by the way, was free at the resort: we had to show our guest wrist bands at the three checkpoints into the resort complex but once in, we had ample parking to choose from—we used the same spot, close to the Akumal lobby, every time).

The drive to the Grand Cenote took less than a half hour to get to. On this Saturday morning, the town of Tulum was bustling with cars and trucks alike. We missed the turnoff, to our right, because heavy trucks were turning and backing into a neighbouring business, but we were able to make a safe U-turn on Highway 109, which we took the other day to Cobá. We pulled into the parking lot shortly before 9, almost an hour after it opened.

It cost 180 pesos, each, to enter the grounds. Because we had our own snorkel masks (fins are prohibited), we each saved an additional 80 pesos. We did, however, rent a locker, which cost 30 pesos. But at least we could lock up our car keys and smartphones.

Grand Cenote has a wide opening and a base that houses the hut for the rental equipment and lockers. Several wooden platforms have been constructed, with a couple of access points into the pool.

The area was packed. Many people of all ages arrived at the same time as DW and me, plus a dozen or so folks were already in the crystal-clear water. I began recording with my 360-degree camera before I descended to the water level and could see that the place was filling up fast.

We locked up our valuables, draped our towels with the many others on wooden railings, and went into the water.

It was cool and refreshing. A couple of days before DW and I left for Mexico, I developed lower back issues and could barely move. Determined to make this trip, I ingested a handful of muscle relaxers, ibuprofen, and some of the morphine-based pain pills that I was prescribed after my foot surgery, but barely used.

These drugs got me through the flight and transport from the Cancun airport to our resort. Margaritas took over when we got settled.

I found that by soaking in the resort's pools or swimming in the sea and cenotes also helped ease the pain in my back. The cool water of Grand Cenote was welcome therapy.

It was tough to navigate through all the other swimmers in many parts of the water. Because I had a 360-degree camera, which captures everything, it was hard to avoid capturing bikini-clad young women when I was just trying to navigate the various stalactites that dipped under the surface.

I felt like a dirty old man when I reviewed the video.

The cenote drops in several places, making it a draw for scuba divers, but the underground caves also invited fellow snorkellers. Some people even brought underwater flashlights, which helped illuminate our way as we passed from one tunnel to a second opening.

We saw a few small fish, but we encountered several small turtles as well. Eventually, I'll get a video put together but for now, please be content with a few stills from my 360 camera.

We spent about an hour at Grand Cenote but it wasn't our only destination. We emerged from the water pit, dried off, got our belongings, and headed back to the car, where we drove a short distance.

About halfway between Grand Cenote and Tulum is another popular cenote, Calavera. A small sign that reads "CENOTE" can be missed if you're not paying attention. The parking lot is only a fraction of the size of Grand Cenote and was full, so I pulled next to a car near a tiny chapel, hoping that I wouldn't receive a ticket. I was also right next to the shoulder of Hwy. 109, so I was especially worried that I wouldn't get side-swiped.

Cenote Calavera cost 100 pesos apiece and seemed to be tucked behind someones home. We walked past a chicken coop and took a narrow pathway to find it.

If not for the people huddled around this sinkhole, we might have missed it. A hole in the ground was about the size of four manhole covers. A tree, that grew over the hole was painted with two words and an arrow, pointing into the void.

"Jump here."

I ran out of memory on the 360 camera at Grand Cenote so DW and I shared the Sony camera. DW stood in front of the sign and I started rolling.

Further over, a larger sinkhole connected to the jumping point. A ladder let swimmers climb back to the surface.

It was my turn, next.

DW noticed that when I first captured her jumping into the sink hole, I didn't turn the camera downward to show her in the water. Because I was standing a bit higher up, I wasn't able to follow her with the camera. So she jumped again.

Both of us noticed that this cenote, when you're swimming in it, had a bit of a funky smell. I didn't want to jump in a second time and DW felt two jumps was one too many, so we dried ourselves and headed back to the car.

We drove back into Tulum, filled the car with gas, and returned it to our rental agency. In researching car rentals in Mexico, DW learned that sometimes, when you fuel up, there can be scams that disreputable attendants may perform. One is to not set the pump back to zero before refuelling your tank. I left the car as soon as I pulled up and watched the attendant start up the pump.

Another scam can be them telling you that you only gave them 50 pesos after you hand them a 500-peso note. I counted out my money, one note at a time, when I paid him.

We also were advised not to use a credit card at the station. Cash is best.

When we returned our little red Chevy to the agency, DW followed the agent and me with my smartphone as we inspected the car. At one point, he asked me, "Are you sure you used the car?"

"Why do you ask?" I replied.

"Because the inside is so clean," was his response.

"We're tidy people." I wouldn't have said that had our kids been with us.

I asked the agent to write that the car was returned in perfect order on my receipt, and sign it. There's no way I'm going to have the agency come at me, months later, claiming that there was damage.

Without the car, we were left with our towels and camera gear. All we had to do was hail a collectivo to take us back to our resort. We walked to the main intersection, where the 109 and 307 meet. On the southwest corner, a thatched bus shelter already had a few commuters. But when an empty collectivo pulled up, we were the only ones who got on.

DW immediately asked the driver the cost of the commute to the gates of the Bahai Principe compound. The driver pointed to each of us and in Spanish told her 70 pesos.

"Todo?" I asked.

"Si, todo," he replied.

About two or three kilometres longer than our last collectivo ride, and 10 pesos cheaper.

We spent the next two-and-a-half days at the resort: napping, lounging by the infinity pool, swimming in the protected beach, getting it on (hey, we were celebrating our silver anniversary, and we were in guest house number 69), eating, drinking, napping. By the end of the last full day, I was ready to go home.

It was a perfect holiday. We had excellent weather, the resort was perfect, our room was ideal, and the food and drink memorable. With our rental, we had the freedom to get away and see the places that our resort charged an arm and a leg to see, at a fraction of the cost. And we were able to do these excursions early enough to beat the large tour groups and, most importantly, the heat. Our timing was such that we never missed a meal at our all-inclusive resort.

Would I do this kind of vacation again? Without a doubt, yes. I don't know that I'll return to the Mayan Riviera again—I've done it twice now and there's a lot of world left to see—but if I do, I would definitely return to the same resort.

This vacation is over but it will be in my head for years to come. I'll likely share more videos as they become available.

For now, I have another trip to prepare for. I leave for South Korea in four weeks.

Wordless Wednesday: More Cobá

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Step Back in Time

It took us a while to notice, but soon the sound was inescapable.

About an hour's drive from our resort and some 44 kilometres to the northwest of Tulum lies the small town of Cobá, a nondescript place of about 1,300 inhabitants, surrounded by the Yucatan jungle. But hidden around this town, within the jungle itself, lies the ruins of a vast city that may have been home at one time to 80,000 people.

Again, DW and I arose early, well before the restaurants opened for breakfast. The restaurant closest to our room was just beginning to lay out some breakfast pastries, and there was a coffee dispenser that was always open, so we grabbed a few snacks and hit the road.

We wanted to reach the Cobá ruins before the gates opened.

It cost 50 pesos to park in the vast lot at the trail head to the ruins, but because we arrived so early we were able to park in a shaded area. That shade remained the entire time that we were there. Only a handful of visitors were waiting for the gates to open, at 8:00: a shuttle bus with about a dozen German tourists and a family of four, with young kids.

Good, we thought. The kids won't be able to keep up with us.

It cost 70 pesos each to get in, plus they wanted the same 45-peso fee for the use of "professional" cameras and video devices that we had paid when we entered Tulum, two days earlier. When I paid that fee, I noticed that the permit neither designated the site nor the date for which the permit was valid, so I told DW that I would use the old permit. If they questioned it (if they even asked to see it), I would pay for another one.

As with the people at Tulum, the folks who were attending Cobá never asked to see the permit.

DW and I were at Cobá with a purpose: reach the Nohoch Mul Pyramid first, climb it, and then take our time visiting the other structures. The Nohoch Mul Pyramid, at 42 meters, is the tallest historic structure on the Yucatan Peninsula and the only Mayan pyramid that can still be climbed.

Because of its popularity, DW and I wanted to reach it before the crowds arrived. But we had a lot of competition.

The German tourists had the same idea. We all made our way the short walk inside the grounds to a bike-rental hut. For 50 pesos each, DW and I grabbed a couple of bikes and started riding. DW attached our 360-degree camera to its selfie stick, extended it, and strapped it to her backpack. And we were off.

While we beat several of the Germans, there were a few who stuck right with us. When we reached the pyramid, we dismounted and hustled to the structure, which looks like it was crumbling. DW, with the video camera running, moved around the base and then started her ascent. I set up my D-SLR and moved a little slower in capturing images.

Running from the top of the pyramid staircase to the bottom, and along the middle, is a heavy-duty rope, which you can use to help with your climb. I used it both ways. Because I'm still not sure-footed, after my surgery, I wanted to ensure that I had something to grab hold of.

The stone steps were uneven, small, and often smoothed by many years (centuries?) of use. Though some of the younger Germans in the group were able to move at a faster pace, I still held my own.

I did lose sight of DW, who had trained for weeks by climbing the stairs in her office building.

It was exhausting work and I realized just how out of shape I was. My breathing was loud and laboured, and as I passed the halfway point, I had to stop to catch my breath. A German woman or about my age, who had passed me on the ascent, was sitting on the steps, wheezing. I gathered my strength and continued.

The view was spectacular. We were well above the treetops, and the only thing you could see, apart from miles of endless jungle, was the peak of Cobá's other pyramid, which cannot be climbed. We marvelled at the view, took scads of photos and video footage, but mostly rested.

When the top of the pyramid became too crowded, DW and I began our descent. I hung onto the rope and climbed, backwards, in the same position that I took climbing the stairs. At times, I could feel the slippery, smooth stones, and often had to search for my next foothold, and I have to admit: I was a bit terrified. I'm afraid of heights, though I can manage it, but when I'm not on steady footing, all bets are off.

It took us longer to get down than climb up, but once we were on solid ground, I felt better. We got on our bikes and rode back, stopping at every other site on our way back.

All the while, there was a buzzing noise high above us. Though it sounded like millions of bees, it reminded me more of the murmur of a crowd. Were these the voices of those 80,000 citizens from centuries ago?

We stopped at the temples, the ball courts, and other ruins. We tried to make out the engravings on the stelae, the stone tablets that tell the stories of the Mayan history. Occasionally, I would see what I thought was a bee—totally stationary, hovering like a drone, its wings barely discernible, like a guard at attention. Neither moving toward me out of aggression nor away, out of fear. Were these old guardians of the temples, ensuring the peace was kept, even today?

Having cycled to all the sites, we returned the bikes and walked around the last few sites—the other pyramid and another ball court—before leaving the gates and returning to our still-shaded car.

Tour groups were crowding these sites and a long lineup awaited at the gates. Once again, it paid to arrive early.

Already, the day was shaping up to be a hot one, but our adventure was not done. We drove past the town for a few more kilometres until we came to a cenote (underground pool), Tankach-Ha. Accessed from a wooden spiral staircase, more than 15 metres below the surface, this was a cool cavern in which to cool off.

The wooden staircase has two platforms from which you can jump into the clear, cool water. DW jumped twice from the five-metre platform and then braved the 10-metre jump. I gathered courage to jump from the five-metre platform, worried about how my foot would take it. It took it just fine.

I jumped again from the platform, this time, holding onto one of our video recorders. I shared it, through Instagram.

We stayed for about a half-hour or so, until we were cooled, relaxed, and our stomachs once again reminded us to head back to the resort.

With only one more morning before we had to return our rental car, we had two more cenotes to visit. More to come...