Horse-Powered Beer

It seems everything old is new again, and at Wynkoop Brewing Company in Denver, that couldn’t be more true—at least twice a month when they load kegs and cans of their small-batch, award-winning beer onto a wooden wagon, hitch up two Clydesdales and strike out to deliver beer to thirsty downtown denizens.

“In Denver’s early pioneer days, beer—and everything else—was delivered by horse-drawn wagons,” says Wynkoop’s Marty Jones. “Our 1890 building sold supplies, horse tack, furniture, all kinds of things that fueled expansion of the West and the settling of Denver and Colorado.

“We had seen old photos of Denver beer wagons and discovered it had been nearly 100 years, around 1915, since they had rolled down our streets. So we wanted to bring back this wonderful, long-lost piece of Denver’s beer history.”

By law, Wynkoop is only allowed to deliver beer to retail outlets such as liquor stores and pubs, although Jones says there has been more than one occasion where the wagon has been beckoned to bring beer to downtown parties and gatherings. Still, it’s become a big hit with folks flocking to the horse-drawn wagon for photo ops and nose-nuzzles from the two 2,000-pound horses.

“The establishments promote the deliveries to their customers, and those customers show up to get a taste of modern-day beer delivered in true old-school style. It’s a load of fun,” Jones says. “Sure, wind-powered and solar-powered beer is wonderful. But they can’t touch horse-powered beer.”

The horses come from a small farm just a few miles outside Denver and usually work at night as carriage horses, pulling visitors around town in a charming, old-fashioned coach. Casey works the left side and Jake handles the right, but when they are on Wynkoop’s clock, they go by the names of Rail and Yard, in honor of Wynkoop’s canned Railyard Amber Ale.

Jones admits the twice-monthly beer delivery is a bit of a hook designed to showcase the brewery and its recent self-distribution efforts.

“Horse-powered beer does the trick,” he says. “It highlights our trailblazing history, our ultra-local focus and beer delivered straight from the brewery with a tiny carbon footprint. And now a large hoofprint.”

But Jones says through their horsing around, Wynkoop discovered the old-time delivery method does a lot more, bringing a unique element to what he calls “Denver’s street theater” and bringing people out of the buildings and into the community to share in the experience of watching the Clydesdales perform their duties.

“It’s a hoot to see the cameras come out and the smiling stares as our beer wagon rolls by,” says Jones. “So we’re doing a good thing for the city we love, and we’re making people happy. And those are the two main goals of what we do.”

Jones says the folks at Wynkoop also learned a lesson they didn’t expect when they first hitched their star to this pair of hitched horses. That lesson was a reminder of what you sometimes lose through what is called “progress.”

“On our first run, there was a moment where we got passed by a stretch limo with the obligatory tinted glass, its passengers cut off from the rest of the world. It looked ridiculous rushing past us,” Jones says, adding that there’s a bit of magic in the mix of old and new.

“Sometimes the best thing you can do is slow down the pace of life. It’s good for you. Beer is sure great for that,” he says. “Plus, seeing horses pull beer past a skyscraper or an 1880s building, the clip-clop of their hooves bouncing off the buildings—it’s haunting. It’s beautiful. It puts goosebumps all down your back.” ■