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It takes roughly 11 hours to fly from Toronto to Brussels via London’s Heathrow Airport, whereas Cooperstown, NY, is considerably closer, if somewhat less exotic. And so it was that rather than heading off to Belgium again this past August, I instead hit the road to welcome ‘Het Bierland’ to my backyard in the form of Brewery Ommegang’s annual Belgium Comes to Cooperstown extravaganza.

Born several years ago, the event was conceived by Brewery Ommegang founders Don Feinberg and Wendy Littlefield as a celebration of all things Belgian, which in the past has meant staying fairly true to the Brussels Ommegang festival’s medieval roots, even going so far as to import costumed flag carriers from Belgium. But with the brewery’s ownership change has come a new look for BCTC, and it was my goal to discover how it had been transformed.

But first I was going to have to get there.

When driving, my motto has always has been "Why take a day to get to your destination when you can take two?!" And since the drive to Cooperstown easily exceeds six hours, I figured that an en route stop in Syracuse would be a fine idea, given that prior visits to the city’s historic Armory Square district had served to stimulate my interest in the place they call "the ’cuse." When I was able to score a room for the night at the charming Hawthorne Suites hotel, in the heart of Armory Square and steps away from both Clark’s Ale House and The Blue Tusk, well, that simply sealed the deal.

As a city of a mere 145,000 souls, I find it remarkable that Syracuse boasts not one, but two first-rate beer destinations, Clark’s and the Tusk, and that they’re located mere blocks from each other. Add in The Blue Tusk’s Belgian restaurant off-shoot, Café Demon, and you could make the case that there are actually three such beer spots in town, although seeing as the Demon is joined at the hip to the Tusk, that would be stretching things a bit.

Since it is located closest to the Hawthorne, I began my evening at Clark’s, where I cleansed my throat of road grit with a pint of Victory Brewing’s Prima Pils. (Given the incredible refreshment power of German-style pils, of which Prima is an excellent example, I remain astounded that there are those who would rather slake their thirst with a Bud.) For fortification, I followed with a more languorous glass of Arrogant Bastard and roused myself from my patio perch to head on over to the Tusk.

When last I visited The Blue Tusk, it was little more than a deli with a bar and a batch of well-selected taps tacked on. Now considerably expanded, the Tusk boasts not only the aforementioned Belgian café, but also an impressive array of 69 taps, all refreshingly served in imperial pints rather than the standard 16-oz. American size. Staying away from the Belgians which would become my beer-drinking life once I hit Cooperstown, I drank from the northeast with a pint of chocolaty Smuttynose Old Brown Dog followed by the still more chocolaty, roasty-finishing porter-cum-Scotch ale of local brewer Middle Ages, curiously named The Duke of Winship.

Following a quick stop at Middle Ages and a stroll through the stellar Golden Reflections of the Erie Canal: Brewing Beer in Upstate New York exhibit at the Erie Canal Museum, I was off for Cooperstown and 36 hours of Belgium in the U. S..

By the time I hit Oneonta, where I was staying in lieu of the camping option provided by the brewery, the skies were beginning to deliver ominous signs for the outdoor festival the next day. And sure enough, in the evening and overnight, the heavens opened up and the rain poured like a drunken bartender. Come morning, things were looking grim.

But the god of rain must be Belgian, because just as the fest kicked off around noon, the rain tapered to a drizzle and, within about an hour-and-a-half, vanished entirely. By 2 p.m., half-way through the fest and only a short period into the day-long event, the sun was shining and spirits were rising alongside tasting glasses.

Determined to play the role of serious beer scribe even in the face of such delights as the remarkably rounded and malty St. Bernardus Abt 12, the quirky Italian Super Baladin and the complexly malty and immensely satisfying Achel Extra, I began my tasting with a "tour des blanches," beginning with the wonderfully spicy Allagash White and the lighter, fruitier Witte of my hosts at Ommegang.

Then I saw Steve Gale. Or rather, Steve Gale saw me.

A bear of a man, Steve is an enthusiastic Belgophile who is nothing if not passionate about his beer, and like most committed beer enthusiasts I know, myself included, he likes little more than sharing his discoveries with others. Thus when I felt his massive paw land on my shoulder, I knew that my white beer tasting was, if not officially over, at least in great peril.

Thrusting a glass of something deep amber under my nose, Steve exhorted: "It’s Bene..., Bene..., Bene-something from Cambridge Brewing, and you have to taste it before it runs out." One sniff told me that it was a very big beer, more than enough to wipe all else off my palate, and so I explained to Steve the policy of starting light and building. He shrugged, reasserted that there was only a very limited amount in the tent, and left me to dwell on what I might or might not taste next.

I gave in. The beer I discovered to be called Benevolence beckoned and it was indeed something to behold: fermented by three yeasts, conditioned in Jack Daniels barrels with honey, sour cherries, date sugar and a lambic strain, and finally aged in the barrel for a year-and-a-half before being blended with a 12% barley wine. While the resulting beer could easily have been a muddled mess, Benevolence was instead well-balanced, with cherry and vanilla conspiring in the aroma and spice aligning with malty fruit, soft hops and gentle, palate cleansing sourness in the body and finish.

The following hours yielded a cacophony of tasting, from Heavyweight’s sahti-inspired Juhlia, with its spicy palate and lingering resins, to Dogfish Head’s suitably sour, lambic-esque Festina Lente to my first-ever taste of the spicy, malty Ommegang Ale on draught. Alas, with such strong and intensely flavored ales occupying my glass, it was not long before palate fatigue set in and my notebook found its way to my back pocket for good.

The remainder of the evening was well-spent enjoying roast pig and live Latin music, and lingering boy scout-like around the huge bonfire set towards the end of the night. All told, I passed about 11 hours on the brewery grounds, coincidentally about the same length of time it would take to get myself to Belgium, but infinitely more pleasurable than economy.