My friend Ellie and I walked along the cliffs from Margate to Broadstairs—two seaside towns on England’s southeast coastline. A trip of six miles, our ambling, steady stroll took us along a slightly jaded promenade, past restless waves and empty sands, and through tiny (at least in comparison to our journey’s start) seaside towns. After a long and draining week, we both needed an escape from the constant hubbub of London.
We’d brought a couple beers along with us, and we bookended the walk with a stop in a brilliant beer bar in Margate. But at no point did we really think about what we were drinking. We’d brought the beer to drink, of course, but purely as refreshment while we walked. There were no tasting notes or ratings or analysis. We talked, but not about the beer.
Sometimes the dialog around beer, including the hype and surrounding noise, can impair our ability to simply enjoy a wonderful beverage. Beer is at the heart of Ellie and I’s friendship, but it felt good to step outside of that world for a moment, to focus on the rest of it. Both beer and walking are still pretty honest on their own terms, after all.