Beer festivals are neither easy nor cheap for craft brewers. They have to haul heavy kegs of beer, hire (or find volunteer) staff to serve, and spend hours before and after setting up and breaking down booths. A long weekend, like the Vermont Brewers Festival, can really deplete supply for the smaller brewers and force them to play catch-up in the weeks following. Also, the people working the taps have to tolerate the obnoxious unsolicited critiques by beer bloggers whose confidence overshoots their palettes. (Ahem)

Finally, brewers struggle against the temptation to indulge. Festival rules are strict — if you’re going to pour, you can’t go out there and taste.

That was the conflict with which Jeremy Hebert was dealing one recent Friday night.

“I do want to try some of other people’s beers,” Jeremy Hebert, head brewer at Jasper Murdock’s in Norwich, Vt., acknowledged on the opening night of the Vermont Brewers Festival. “Once you become a consumer, you cannot pour.”

And yet, the brewers still bother to come. The reasons are as varied as the beers they serve, ranging from idealism to education and the capitalist impulse of increasing their customer base.

Vankleek Hill, Ontario is more than 150 miles from Burlington, and the beers that Steve Beauchesne makes at his small Canadian brewery, Beau’s All Natural Brewing Co., are no where distributed in Vermont.

Yet, on this same hot Friday night, Beauchesne was stuck behind some taps serving a line of slightly drunk people (some more slightly than others), most of whom were about to try his beer for the first time.

Beauchesne has been making organic lagers and ales for five years. Although the brewery is growing, Beauchesne isn’t yet ready to expand south into Vermont.

Rather, he came to the festival for something “beyond the capitalist, I want to sell beer to you” impulse, he said.

“We’re big believers in the craft beer movement,” Beauchesne said during a break in the action. “This is part of being part of the global movement for craft beer.”

A noble goal, to be sure, but he was there to get the word out about his brewery, too. At the table, where Beauchesne was pouring glasses, was an adjective-packed pamphlet, folded in a 4” x 4” square, with his “not so corporate philosophy,” “tasting notes” for the Lug Tread Lagered Ale — a kolsch — and details about the “local, family-run, award winning, organic and totally d.i.y brewery.”

Being tucked back in the corner with the other Canadian brewers, Beauchesne had plenty of competition, and yet was holding his own. (His kolsch was delicious.) The Belgian-inspired Quebec brewers were among the most popular draws of the night.

Several tents down, an apprentice brewer at a nano from New Hampshire was trying to get a sense of it all.

Josh Hoehl has been studying under Bill Herlicka of White Birch Brewing for the past year.

Hoehl’s first beer, a 10.5 % Belgian Grand Cru, isn’t scheduled to be released until late fall. He’s still tinkering with the recipe, but had come out to pour beers anyway.

The White Birch tent was busy. Say what you will about session beers, but festival goers are still drawn to the experimental and high-gravity stuff. The longest line of the night was for Lawson’s Finest, which has turned itself into a local legend by restricting access (it’s distribution doesn’t extend far beyond its home in Warren, Vt.) and by serving up confusing concoctions such as Acer Quercus, a 9.5% brew made with maple syrup, date sugar, maple-wood smoked malt, chocolate rye, flaked oats, toasted oak cubes and two yeasts.

Meanwhile, other brilliant brewers such as Trapp Family Lodge Brewery with a selection of sessionable lagers — none of which were more than 5.6 percent — had lines that were maybe five people deep.

White Birch tends toward the big alcohol experiments, even if they were not on display this particular night.

The brewery makes a lot of barrel aged, Belgian and big beers. At the festival, it took a tamer approach, with a “Hop Session” that is 5.4 percent and a “Hooksett Ale” that was 7.5 percent, with Belgian spice, Cascade and Columbus hops.

The brewery distributes in Vermont, but hasn’t done much in terms of tastings, Herlicka said, owing to different state regulations. Festivals are an opportunity to pass out samples and spread word.

Hoehl, who Herlicka said has “worked his butt off for us,” was an enthusiastic host, smiling even as sweat darkened his T-shirt. Hoehl wasn’t here for tasting notes on his own beer, which wasn’t even being served. He was here for the experience.

Hoehl is thinking about one day opening his own nano brewery and is taking notes. As for what he learned…

“People like beer,” he said, half-jokingly.

OK. Obvious, perhaps, but true.

Meanwhile, there are brewers like Hebert, for whom the Vermont Brewers Festival is old hat.

Although he’s new at Jasper Murdock’s, Hebert worked at the Golden Dome brewery in Montpelier back in the ’90s and attended this festival when it was still in its infancy.

Jasper Murdock’s, having been around since 1993, didn’t need to be here. It has an established name and seems content to just hang out and do its thing in Norwich, serving up English style ales to diners at the pub.

There’s not much to be gained, really, from being at the festival.

“We’ve kind of been around forever,” he said.

And yet, here Hebert was again, dealing with keg issues and sweating under a tent. His reasons for doing so are not unlike Beauchesne’s.

“The festival is an opportunity for us to stand on the pedestal next to our fellow Vermont brewers and show everyone why Vermont totally kicks ass when it comes to producing high quality brew,” Hebert said in a follow up email. “Many folks who would otherwise never be able to enjoy our beer due to distance/location are able to have a taste of another really good beer.”

For the first time, Jasper Murdock’s had a Weissbier on tap, and the Dark Humour created by previous brewmaster Patrick Dakin was getting some attention.

Also, the experience was nicer than it was when Hebert was here with Golden Dome. The event is better organized, for starters. In the early days, everyone was under one tent and smoking cigars, making for an uncomfortable and awful smelling experience.

But this warm Friday night, lit by a grapefruit moon above a breezy blueberry lake, the evening turned out to be a more pleasant time.

“I’m actually finding that I’m enjoying myself,” Hebert said.