What is There To Do in Midway, BC?

Midway turned out to be the surprise hit of British Columbia despite the fact that neither of us had ever heard of the village until we found ourselves rolling onto its Main Street. The surprise hit to the point where, at least once daily since our stop there, Kieran brings up a ranch we saw for sale and details all the ways in which we could make a life in Midway work (yes, family, that one can go to print in the Family Gossip Weekly).

So what is there to do in Midway? Why, go to the Kettle River Inn and Saloon, of course! The saloon was situated across the street from the town's campground (and the campground is just lovely, I must add, as it's right on the Kettle River). The potential for nuisance in this arrangement was quickly swept aside by a fantastic guitar riff that caused both of us to look up sharply from pounding in our tent pegs and consider the saloon anew. It seemed as though there was live bluegrass music coming from the saloon. We decided to check it out.

I have to say, the band was fantastic. A motley crew of cowboys, aging hippies, and a couple of stay-at-home moms and...damn, they were good. Even Kieran wanted to get up and dance. Dance as in two-step. Kieran. (Of course, one needs to know how to two-step in order to two-step and even though I've tried to teach him more than a few times, we've both conceded that the two-step dream is a lost cause for this Alberta-Girl-BC-Boy couple.)

And then there was the food.

First, Kieran went up to the bar to see what was on tap.

"Kokanee or dark beer."

"...Dark beer. Uh, what kind of dark beer?"

"Dunno. Just dark beer. Two bucks a glass."

So we got the Dark Beer (I mean, two dollars a pop!). And it turns out that Dark Beer is good. Like, really, really good. Kinda like Trad, but...crisper. More refreshing. Satisfied with the Dark Beer, we asked for menus.

"There is no menu. We only serve chicken wings. It's Wednesday."

"...Alright, we'll have chicken wings then."

"No, no. You have to sit down and I'll bring you the list."

"Okaaaaaay."

The "list" turned out to be a list of chicken wing varieties. Forty in all. Ranging from classic Buffalo wings to rum pineapple and tequila lime. Along with the list, you're provided a notepad and complimentary pen with which you're expected to provide a running tally of all the wings you want to sample, the idea being you can sample different varieties of wings all night and keep a running tab. Only being a few months off of the vegetarian wagon, an all night chicken wing bender seemed a little extreme to us. We went for a relatively moderate order of Jamaican spice rub wings, Cajun spice rub wings, and some Indian butter chicken wings.

The wings were prepared and served up by a man who looked for all the world like Nick Nolte in his notorious mugshot photo, complete with long greasy hair that screamed out of his head at awkward angles and an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt. This dude would appear from the back with paper plates overflowing with wings, dump them on the bar, scan the room with his glassy half-lidded eyes, refill his mug with Dark Beer, and stumble back into the kitchen in a drunken haze to make more wings.

I was a little nervous about the chicken wings.

I'll tell you right now, if they would have brought me a bowl of the Indian butter chicken sauce, I would have stuck my face in it to blow bubbles. And not just because we were ravished from having biked The Anarchist or because we were slightly buzzed on Dark Beer. But because Nick Nolte's long lost Canadian cousin, despite his drunken stupor, knows how to make wings. We all have our gifts and that dude's gift is surviving fatal doses of Dark Beer and a real flair for making chicken wings.

All told, it was a night of great music and great food with friendly relaxed locals.