On Sunday, the 20th of May, in the year of our Lord 2011, our League set out for adventure in wilds of eastern San Diego county, seeking Smuggler’s Cave and the abandoned Elliot Amethyst mine.
After a long desert hike and a failed attempt at camping in Joshua Tree National Park (it turns out just showing up on Saturday afternoon is not a good way to secure a campsite), Laura and I made the long drive back home to Santa Monica. Fortunately, we realized we’d be passing near Rosemead, and could make a stop at Bahooka, a tiki bar and restaurant where tropical fish outnumber people.
Laura had some fruity concoction whose name escapes me, and I had a Zombie. They were both excellent, as far as fruity tiki drinks go; tangy, with plenty of rum, and tasting not at all like a Jolly Rancher. The couple next to us at the bar ordered something that arrived in a bowl, with two straws, and on fire.
There may well be a long-lost chapter of the League of Gentlemen Adventurers in Sweden.
Recently a team of adventurers was diving in the Baltic Sea, off the coast of Sweden, and while exploring a shipwreck, they discovered bottles of champagne that are over 200 years old. By far the oldest ever found, and, according to one estimate, worth almost $70,000 each.
Now, that is certainly an adventure, but it’s not why I believe LGA members may have been present. This is why:
The first thing they did when they got back onto the boat was to pop one open and drink it.
Mr. Ekstrom & co., today I raise my glass to you and say, Quam bene vivas refert, non quam diu. You embody the spirit of Gentleman Adventuring.
And, gentle reader, I ask you: were you on that boat, wouldn’t you have done the same?
It’s around 10pm, and Lee, Greg, and I are looking for a bar. Not just any bar; we’re surrounded by bars, actually, with thumping music and flashing lights, and crowds of people who look and act like they just turned 21, whether they’re in their 20s, 30s, or 40s. We are in San Diego’s Gaslamp Quarter, and we are looking for Prohibition.
We pass a nondescript doorway wedged between two nightclubs. No sign, just an address. Lee squints at it. Is that the one? No. We keep walking, past a group of eight or ten young guys, all wearing polo shirts with the collars turned up, all walking unsteadily and staring off into space with the vacant look of someone so drunk they can’t hold a coherent thought.
Another doorway. It is also flanked by unpleasantly Gaslampy bars. The frosted glass window displays the name of a law firm. This is it, Lee says. We walk past a small gate, ring a doorbell, and wait.
The door opens a crack. Nobody comes out. Lee looks around the corner. There is a man in a suit.
I highly recommend the above article, and I also highly recommend that any gentleman (or gentlelady) adventurer with a predilection to tippling give moonshine a try. Ideally, this should be clear spirits of questionable provenance, served out of a mason jar or other recycled container. My first moonshine experience was lao lao – homemade Laotian rice whiskey served from a 7-Up bottle while riding on the roof of a bus from Luang Prabang to Vientiane.
If the homemade stuff that can cause blindness is not available locally where you are, however, you could do worse than trying some of the new brands mentioned in the NYT.
Oh, and while you’re searching, please enjoy this ode to clear spirits by the great George Jones:
