The first beer ever imbibed is suspected to have been quaffed by a gypsy nomad with a low brow and rudimentary idea of tools. Indeed, prehistoric man is believed to have drunk fermented grain before he ever figured out how to bake it. The apocryphal story of the traveler as inventor of beer is fitting. Travel and beer have always gone hand in hand. It caps off a day of gates, tickets and dusty bus rides unlike any other drink. Beer’s partnership with travel probably also explains how it became the most popular alcoholic drink in the world.

Beer as we know it started with the Babylonians. In 4300 B.C., a clay tablet was created in the cradle of civilization, and on it was a recipe for baked barley bread and water—the first recorded instance of beer. Similar to Portland craft brewers, the Babylonians had up to 20 different varieties of beer, although none were of the triple hopped, chocolate flavored kind. Interesting enough, it was the Egyptians who shared the idea of beer with the Greeks, where it divided the classes. Dionysus, the god of wine and madness (how appropriate) mythically “fled in disgust” when he discovered Mesopotamians preferred beer to wine. The Greek upper class believed it a drink for barbarians, something the more ignorant of social climbers might still claim. Through Christianity’s rapid rise to prominence, beer rose to fame, landing on top of the booze pyramid. It hasn’t moved since.

In the time since the fermentation kicked off, travelers have brought beer with them while the wandered the globe. Romans introduced it to every nation they conquered. From British pubs to Munich’s Oktoberfest, Rome’s alcoholic influence remains strong today. The Germans picked caves to brew in, with the cold temps eventually leading to their preference for lagers. The British used milder cellars, leading them to the ale. In 1620, the pilgrims landed not because of a good picnic spot, but because the ale had run dry (most beer before the 1800s was ale). In 1909, Teddy Roosevelt brought over 500 gallons on an African safari. When Colombus landed in North America, he found the First Nations had their own version made from birch bay sap and corn, but due to being a wine fan he probably didn’t partake. That’s also why Leif Erikson beat him to the punch almost 500 years later—Erikson was an ale man and much braver man because of it.

Regardless of destination (discounting fundamentalist Muslim locales…so far) beer is always waiting at the end of the road. Thank Ninkasi for that.

When you pour out the filtered beer
of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of
Tigris and Euphrates.
Ninkasi, you are the one who pours out the
filtered beer of the collector vat,
It is [like] the onrush of
Tigris and Euphrates.

        — Hymn To Ninkasi, patron Sumerian goddess of brewing