Up in the mountains

I’m up fucking early. I drag my sweaty arse out of bed at way too long before seven. Throw some water and toothpaste around and frolic cheerfully downstairs. Yeah, I’m so bright and joyful.

An early start is planned. The bus is scheduled for 7:30. I get downstairs a little after 7 and have bacon and scrambled egg. Already a good day. It started with bacon. Though I need jumpstarting with a few coffees.

A breakfast of scrambled egg and bacon. The orange juice and coffee are hidden.

If you're learning something, it's how little I eat in the morning.

Obviously, the bus doesn't leave until 8. Which is earlier than I expected. My money was on 8:30. We’re headed for Tübinger, the brewery Chris founded. Which is in Pirgue, a town to the south of Santiago.

The bus is a double decker. I sit next to Martyn one row back from the front on the top deck. We can see coming all the branches that smash into the windscreen. The roof of the bus must be scratched to buggery.

Once off the motorway, the bus struggles with the narrow roads and tight corners. We cross stony rivers, their beds strewn with pirque. A tight brown rope of water, flanked by fields of rocky eggs.

Small shops line the roads. Tight-walled houses enclose a fruit tree or two. Orchards flash by. Pears hang in tiny gardens. Vineyards spread like water into every void. Enclosed by walls of pirque stones. Some drywall. Dusty orchards, leaves already browning, look on forlornly.

We roll up at the pirque-walled Tubinger taproom.

When I first came here in 2017, there was no taproom. Just a production brewery. There was a garden and the occasional barbecue, but no regular retail sales. Now there’s a distinctive circular taproom with an outdoor patio. And a garden. With the fucking Andes in the background. It’s pretty hard to beat that. Especially in Holland. Not many mountain views there.

Judges and exhibitors chatting outside Tübinger taproom.

There's coffee, juice and cake in the Tubinger taproom. To get us in the mood for the talks. Which are all in Spanish except for Andreas's. For whom Ben Wood translates.

When the beer comes on, I get myself a hazy IPA. Which is OK. (Using all my cicerone descriptive skills there.)

After a while, Chris suggests me and Martyn sit outside with Richard, Uwe and Andreas. Which is what we do. All the gringoes together. It is a bit tiring trying to follow stuff in Spanish, a language with which I only have a vague acquaintance.

It's about 3 PM when we head off to La Montaña. You may be able to guess something about it from the name. It’s halfway up a mountain. Getting to Tubinger wasn’t so easy for our double-decker. How is this going to go?

Not that easily. The last part is down a narrow, dusty road. After a while we come to a very rickety looking bridge. To lower the weight, we all get out and walk across. Followed by the bus. Which gets
across the bridge safely, but then struggles with the hill. Empty.

Judges walking over a rickety wooden bridge with a bus in the background.

It looks like we're walking the last bit. Uphill. Then Martin turns up in his car and offers me a lift. Which is a relief. We drive along dirt roads through vineyards and orchards, getting rather lost. This is quite a large estate. Eventually, we find our way.

It's a beautiful setting. At the base of a mountain, as the name implies. Beyond the vines and fruit trees there’s a nature reserve. The brewery and its taproom are crammed into a narrow valley. I get myself a Märzen and sit down. God, I feel knacked.

We have some pizza and chat. Me and Martyn get a quick tour of the brewery. Which is full of the usual shiny stuff. The brewery is a fairly recent addition to the vineyard that the family has run for generations.

Outside La Montana brewery chilling.

When it starts getting dark, fires are lit outside. Initially, they belch out smoke. Turning us all into honorary kippers.

A Brazilian conference speaker comes around with a Weber Haus seven wood cachaca. Which is dead good. Amburana, balsa, cinnamon, oak and three other types of barrels all contribute to the flavour. Though what stands out is the amburana. Which I love.

Chris says we'll head back around 20:00. I get a lift down to where the bus is. And am the first one on. It leaves at 20:50.

By the time we reach the hotel, it's 22:30. I go straight to my room and write this over a whisky. I'm so tired I just want my bed.



Tübinger Taproom
C. Nueva 6a,
9480000 Pirque,
Región Metropolitana.
https://www.cervezatubinger.cl/taproom/


La Montaña
Unnamed Rd,
Paine,
Región Metropolitana.
http://www.la-montana.cl/



Disclaimer: a fee, my hotel and some meals were paid by the Chile Independent Beer Week.