It howls as it emerges from an icy sarcophagus of 2-row, Vienna, wheat, and rye. Carried on a frigid wind of Strata, Taiheke, Simcoe, and Mosaic pellets and Cryo, then fermented on Omega's Lunar Crush for thiols and lagered in a frozen tomb. Aggressive notes of bright guava and passionfruit, peach, and stonefruit against a classic toasty, spicy west coast grain bill with a bitter bite in the finish regard you from hollow sockets. Shambling into a run, it charges.