Andrew suggested Hannibal as an overnight stop — listed as the inspiration for Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn.
I’d hoped we’d land our CRV with ample daylight but it was late afternoon when we pulled up in the sloping car park. Andrew looked down at me from the suspended passenger side, as I warned that his door might slam shut on him while he climbed to his feet and held a skiers stop position.
Best Western was the best budget option that we found for the quick stay. When inquiring about meal recommendation, we asked about the brew pub. The man in line behind us at BW said “the brewery is his choice, when he is in town”. After checking in, we cycled up and down main street.
All things Mark Twain were closed. We pedaled past the writer’s home. Reckon, there are things to explore locally with more time, and the river running along the side- Intriguing houses loomed on the hill over the river and reminded me that I would like to take the river boat tour (that gave Twain his name) one day along the river through several state, dut it was late in the day and we intended to get an early start.
The high street is only a couple of blocks, it was getting dark, the driving left us weary and hungry. During my short phone chat with my father, he mentioned my sounding listless. It was a lovely visit and I was still enjoying the adventure although, the voice reveals the deflation when you leave your kin. The way to the holidays holds more sparkles. Just sizzles at the end.
After poking around the other eateries, we landed at the Mark Twain Brewing Company 422 Main Street Hannibal MO 63401 marktwainbrewery.com 573-406-1300
At the time unaware of places closing early, we nearly missed out. Ours was the last meal served.
Our bones were road weary and minds cautious of scary southern places and people….we were being watched and could feel eyes on us. Nothing to see here – just two people ….Peeking in the all of the windows and hesitant to go into the joint – folks were dancing! OMG! Can you imagine? Hoofers were enjoying themselves! Gentlemen lifting arms and twisting their ladies. Thoughts surged that it might be loud and the entrance was hiding from us, but finally we made it in. Frankly, a lass that was watching us scampering around the building from her perch at Tipsy Bricks Bar on the hill above us – ( she must have gotten frustrated watching us scurrying around like ants) finally called out to us…..in what we heard….a whiskey slurred deep southern accent “the entrance is on the other side.” Shamed from our fatigued paranoia, needing to release ourselves from surveillance, we straddled the bikes, hobbled to the other side and crawled in.
The brewery only had tables inside. During the pandemic we hadn’t stretched our comfort zone that far yet. The few eateries down the block had seats outside, but with music blasting and not the sort that I enjoy listening to. It sounded like the loops that is played everywhere of good, but stale old pop music.
A band of agged locals were playing southern instruments and looked to be enjoying themselves. Our energetic serve informed us that they play on their own accord. Just show up when they like, without pay, I reckon. It sounded great, added to the atmosphere, and was lovely to see them out and enjoying themselves.
We may have been the last ones served but Ariana beamed and showed no disappointment about us possibly causing her to work until the last call for vittles.
Ariana was a gracious host for our meal of Pit Steak, Fried Mozzarella (roasted ravioli; also known as fried ravioli) , onion rings, flights including Clemens Kolsch, Willowbrook, American Pilsner, Neipa, Jumping Frog, Doppelbock, King Arthur’s Court, and A Wee Bit Foggy. Clemens Kolsch is so good that we ordered two pints, and hope to discover the recipe or get distribution to Austin.
It was a special treat with tasty bites, delightful suds, atmosphere with character and lovely service. If I lived there and went out as I did early doors, a favorite stool or table would have me bum prints on it.