The next day, the Kona wind brought clouds and rain, washing out a trip to the beach. So after lunch, I hopped a motorized trolley to Hilo Hattie's, an islandwear boutique in Honolulu's industrial district, and bought a new hat. As luck may have it, I was almost next door to the Big Aloha Brewery. I'd had the beer at a Stones concert at Aloha Stadium, and liked it; and the weather showed no sign of improving. It was time for a beer.

Big Aloha was inside Sam Choy's Breakfast, Lunch & Crab (580 North Nimitz Highway; 808.545.7979), a huge warehouse converted into a restaurant. Sam Choy is one of Hawaii's best-known and most popular chefs, and he's famous for serving generous portions of island favorites. To get to "Da Brewery" (that's what the neon sign said), I nudged my way past tables arranged around a 35-foot-long sampan. The brewery was a bit quieter and less chaotic than the dining room. It was a fun place, decorated in vaguely nautical style with oddball items like a giant plastic marlin.

I sat underneath the brew tanks and tried a sampler of brewmaster Dave Campbell's handiwork. There were some pleasant surprises: Kakaako Cream Ale was a smooth and refreshing rendition of an underappreciated style rarely found outside the Northeast and Canada. Big Aloha Hefe-Weizen, unfiltered in authentic Bavarian style, had a pleasant wheat flavor with just the right amount of carbonation. Kiawe Honey Porter, brewed with local honey, was full-bodied yet gentle enough to drink in the tropics. The sampler also included Steamship Lager, a steam beer; Ehu Ale, a best bitter; and Green Bottle Lager.

Since the weather hadn't improved, I decided to turn the day into a pub crawl, using shopping center trolleys as my designated driver. I got off at the Aloha Tower, home of the westernmost outpost of the Gordon Biersch Brewing Company (1 Aloha Tower Marketplace; 808.599.4877). It's a place I'd visited on earlier trips to the islands; the German-style beer and the view from the lanai kept me coming back.

The route to the lanai led past the brew tanks and though the big, airy dining room, which, as usual, was filled with a strong aroma of fresh garlic. Outside, the rain had let up, but I decided to play it safe and sit under the covered bar, grabbing a seat just ahead of the crush of downtown office workers.

Gordon Biersch serves four regular beers--Blonde Bock, Dunkles, Golden Export, and Märzen--plus a selection of seasonals. I started with a refreshing Golden Export and a plate of garlic fries, the most popular appetizer by far, watching the fishing boats and container ships drift by. When the sun peeked through the clouds, I decided to stay put; the lanai was a prime location for watching sunsets. My next pint was a Märzen, a maltier version than that served in Germany. It didn't disappoint me, but the weather did: the clouds rolled back in. Time to move on.

I hopped the next trolley to Ala Moana Center, then walked a few blocks to Brew Moon (1200 Ala Moana Boulevard; 808.593.0088), located inside the Ward Center shopping complex. After a bit of searching, I found the brewing equipment and rode the elevator to the restaurant and pub. Brew Moon's interior was sleek and modern; the dining area seemed to go on forever, with the best seats next to the picture windows overlooking Ala Moana Park.

The rain had started again, so I found myself a high-top table in the bar area and sipped a "lunar sampler" while the dinner crowd streamed in. I looked forward to trying Brew Moon's Munich Gold, which won two medals at the Great American Beer Festival. While it lived up to expectations, the beer that stole the show was Hawaii 5 Ale, a hoppier, more carbonated version of an Extra Special Bitter. The sampler also included Moonlight, a light lager; unfiltered Mayberry Wheat; Pacific Pale Ale, definitely on the hoppy side; and Oatmeal Stout, the brewmaster's rotating special.

The bar menu featured a wide range of pub snacks, many with a strong island accent; the Maui onion rings were a perfect accompaniment to the beer. Before calling it a day, I lingered over a glass of Skagen's Öl, a dark-colored version of a Belgian trippel. It was remarkably smooth, despite a strong alcoholic punch.

It was almost nine when I got back to the hotel. The streets were full of people dodging the rain; most were just starting their evening. For me, it was time to call it a day: my body clock reminded me it was well past midnight. That pink microbrewed beer at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel would have to wait until tomorrow.

This article originally appeared on Suite101.com in April 2002.