Rivelin to beer valley pub stumble

Morning,

     yesterday I headed off for a walk in the old stomping ground of Stannington and Rivelin. Its so easy to get to the Rivelin Valley from Crookes me and Carlos were probably in  it every weekend in summer. And winter, come to think. One of the anomalies about the valley though is that there are only realistically three  pubs actually in it. And one, the Norfolk Arms which was a good mile up from the Rivelin post office, is now a nursing home.

So in fact this leaves just the Holly Bush and the Rivelin, with a smattering of decent boozers on the higher reaches, namely Stannington and at a push Crookes and Walkley. For reasons of change, I explored the Stannington side, sampling the pubs as I went along.

I started on Stannington Road up from the Anvil where the bus turns into the estate. I toiled up the hill to the Sportsman, which, despite being the first pub on the route, I didn't venture into, even though they used to sell real ale a few years back. I walked up into the older part of the village and stopped off at the Peacock. This Thwaites eatery does still retain a drinkers bar area on the left but to be fair its so hot in there I always prefer sitting outside. Just two real ales on in here but they always sell Thwaites Nutty Black, at £2.80 a pint currently. It seemed the ideal drink since the mild month of May had only just finished.

The Peacock doesn't really implore me to hang around but it sells a decent pint, much like my next stop Minnies, the Rose and Crown. A solid looking pub with a large car park in front and the Loxley Valley stretching out behind it, there are usually 1 or two real ales on here, and almost always Bradfield Brewery beers. This time, the Bradfield had run out, but there was a guest mild! For a traditional Sheffield drinkers pub that was quite a shock, nearly as mush as it being from Caledonian. Mayhem mild was very palatable, but expensive at £1.64 a half.

Moving on uphill and I was glad to find the imposing Crown and Glove open. There's a central entrance and two rooms, with a former dram shop window directly in front of you. Two real ales on here, normally three, and from a choice of Wentworth WPA, (which always seems to be the cheaper option) and Thornbridge Lord Marples, I opted for a pint of the latter.

I sat outside in bright sunshine looking across the fields to Crosspool, supping what was quite a palatable Marples. Its still a sigh beer for me but in comparison with the pale facsimile of itself that WPA has become it was probably the better choice. Mind you, possibly due to Thornbridge's pricing policy and the fact that the pub is owned by a greedy pubco, its price was a little less palatable - £3.35 a pint. Not that there's anywhere much cheaper nearby but that is very steep.

I walked on down past the church and through the fields, now getting a view of the forlorn ruin of the Bell Hagg Inn on the other side of the Valley. Zooming in with my camera there looks to be some sort of work going on, and, as I'd never previously realised, there is a whole other building built below it. Unfortunately nothing is being done to safeguard the road level structure so no miraculous return is pending.

I came out on Tofts lane in glorious sunshine and found the Rivelin busy. Unfortunately the handpumps remain unused and it appears they have given up on selling real ale. A shame for this picturesque local, especially since there's insufficient intactness of layout or other original features to make it worth tolerating a keg beer.

I made my way along the side of the valley as far as was possible, and eventually bit the bullet and headed near  vertically back up to Stannington Road, heading for the Anvil. The place was packed and was probably the best pub of the day at that point. Still retaining some signs of its original layout it also has a traditional difference in luxury between what would have been a separate bar or games room on the right, and the larger sprawl on he left.

I had a pint of Bradfield Farmers Blonde, £2.89, a much needed drink served at the right temperature - cool, but not cold. The pub was rammed, and plenty of people had migrated to the handful of seats outside.  Inside, as well as the bar room there probably used to be two rooms on the left. The potential division isn't obvious but there is a front and side wall fireplace so I think one per room would have made sense. As you enter there are two doors, further demonstrating the separate rooms, and I assume the first of the rooms would have been accessed from an entrance lobby. Its fanciful speculation I realise, especially not having any actual architectural background, but its interesting trying to guess how it would have looked.

Down to mousehole next and I took the path past the dam and ended up on Hollins Lane at the Holly Bush. I didn't have any great hopes for this pub - its proximity to the latter stages of the Rivelin Valley walk and its popularity with families (as attested on a large canvas banner as you approach) made me fear the worst but actually, what with everyone sat in the sun outside, its quite an interesting old pub inside. The first priority was to sort out refreshments - I had a half of Black Sheep Bitter (the other choice was Hobgoblin)  and went and sat outside in the sun trap at the back.

My next surprise was just how pleasant the Black Sheep was. It isn't a classic by any means but it was kept really well and was very refreshing. So much so, that, sat in the sun amid vibrant greenery,  with the trees gently swishing above, I opted for another pint.

In the pub, there are two rooms, with the entrance on the side leading to a smaller room and the larger part of the central bar's counter on the right, and a large lounge on the left. There is also a corridor next to the bar linking both rooms to the loos which have quite old doors on them. And the bonus of it catering to families is not only the useful sale of chocolate bars but also a fairly impressive array of soft drinks, possibly aimed at drivers. An enjoyable visit.

I walked from here into Malin Bridge and caught the bus to the Wellington. The walk was all but over, now it was time for a sup. I had a very refreshing pint of Little Ale Cart Harleys Galaxy special, which I was told was not a single hopped beer as I'd claimed (sozzard) but was in fact brewed with galaxy and erm, yer know, the other one, and a hop called I stopped listening. But thanks for the gen! It was also a bargain £2.40 a pint. I took it outside with me and sat in the sun once again, listening to the conversation and trying to photograph the fully unfurled but mostly rolled up, England flag. I failed.

An impromptu visit to the Kelham Island Tavern followed, where I had a pint of Yorkshire Dales Swinacore Pale, a spicy pale ale brewed with Sorachi Ace, and a half of Blackedge Dark. This was so good in fact that, having secured a seat outside in the sun I went back for another. The KIT was absolutely rammed, with a constant procession of punters arriving all the time I was there. Always good to see a pub thriving.

My penultimate stop was the Ship. To my horror the Bradfield Pale from the night before (my favourite Bradfield beer by a distance) had run out. In its place was an equally enjoyable Welbeck Fruit Cascade, which was nowhere near as grim as it sounds. Subtle fruit sits in the background behind a pleasantly hoppy bitter, which was an ideal pint to sup, sat with the sunshine streaming into an initially empty pub. Bliss.

Finally I ended my journey at Shakespeares, sat in the beer garden, supping halves of the Ashover smoked ale and Little Valley Python, a 6.0% IPA. I was joined briefly by Robin who was having a quick bite to eat, and it became obvious during our conversation that it was really the end of my day of refreshments. And so it was that I headed home from here for a much needed rest.

A great day out walking and drinking was had in some old favourites and a few less often visited pubs. Rivelin's pubs were the cheapest on the walk (if you include the Anvil) and despite the Stannington venues being costlier at least they all offered real ale. If you head into Loxley the situation doesn't change, and up the other side of Rivelin all the Crosspool and Crookes pubs sell real ale. So all the more reason to sup in the area.

Wee Beefy.      

Stannington, Royal at Dungworth, Plough Low Bradfield, Nags Head Loxley, Anvil pub walk.

Hello fellow imbibers.

I have just spent 4 hours collating all my available pub photographs into individual folders on my computer so as to spend an eternity of soul waining frustration loading them onto my blog. Much as I love my comfy old blog, I do sometimes, indeed quite often, question whether there might not be other blogging sites which allow easier uploading and most pertinently, positioning of pics.

Today, I spent three times as much time uploading and positioning my pics as I did compiling the prose, and yet after all that fannying about, I still managed to lose 2 pics in the ether, without knowing how. Come on Blogger, sort your site out FFS. However, for the present time at least, I am ensconced here now, so any changes will have to wait.

So, after our relaxing bank hol trundle round the less promising sounding parts of Lancashire, I was up early again on the Tuesday to meet Davefromtshop for a walk and some pints along the way.

We met in town and caught the 52 to Crookes to begin our walk. I had as you may have noted, done said trek with Chala a week earlier, and should have known that walking powerhouses myself and DFS were likely to tear up the route in half the time that me and Chala did. And to confirm that concern, we were at the large dam, even having taken a longer route, by 11.00. I di not even know if the Rivelin would be open (let alone have real ale), and it was feasibly a 25minute walk at the most.

We tried simply sitting around, and I had a bite to eat, just to fill in time, but as soon as we set off we realised that this estimate too was optimistic. When we turned up onto Rivelin Valley Road it was only 11.15 and not even the amalgam of dotards wending their tortuously slow way up in the same direction as us could delay us sufficiently.

In the end, out of sheer frustration at how slow we would either have to walk behind them, or wanted to fit in our first stop, we gave up and headed for the Crown and Glove. We arrived at just before 12.00, standing in front of the impressive frontage, unable to escape the "Open all day every day from 12.00 " (unq.) banner hanging on the from railings, when a bloke tending to the drains ( or plants, couldn't see for certain ) said " I don't know what time they'll be open today, landlords gone out and other ones away, no idea what time he's coming back ".

This was not good news. We were two pubs in and two no scores, my trip planning credentials were under serious threat of being decimated. Undeterred we did optimistically hang round until gone 5 past when a lady opened the door to tell us they were closed and would open at 14.00, and before we could pose the obvious question, that she was there only to look after the dogs and the old lady(hopefully applying radically different care techniques to her individual charges). So, mumbling to ourselves, we pressed on for the Peacock.

Now, its funny that i was told quite clearly by a fan of the previous pub that this was a crap pub with rubbish beer. Last time it turned out to be an, albeit asinine, overly formulaic country pub eatery, but with an excellent range of beers, no more expensive than the Crown and perhaps demonstrating a better range, with two dark beers. This time the peacock got extra Brownie points fro being open, and, their cunning plan had obviously paid off, as they were quite busy.

The beer range was the same so Dave sensibly opted for a mild and me the 4.7% Black magic Porter, which is perhaps an unwise starter, as it doesn't pull any punches when it comes to flavours. We stopped only for a brief pint before heading off to investigate a pub we had seen on the other road.

The Rose and Crown, which I believe is also called Minnies, was open, and admirably conserving electricity by having almost no lights on, which was a good idea since the sun was very bright all day. They proudly advertise that they sell Farmers Blonde from nearby Bradfield, as well as a non advertised super regional offering. The Blonde was quite cold and may have been the first of the day, but tasted OK, if unexceptional, and we supped this taking the rather incongruous interior.

Out back is a restaurant and there seemed to be a slow trade in pensioners specials, although it was only 12.40. The bar is quite modern with pale wood, and the alcove seating on the from left where we sat is almost the only traditional sitting arrangement in the front of the pub. The pool table takes up all the space on the right and between us and the bar is a sea of tall bar stools and bar tables. Its light airy and sleek but I don't get what they are aiming for - it looks like a city centre bar in an old pub with a carvery at the back. Very strange, but hey, at least they were open.

We pressed on from here to Dungworth along the road, which involves tackling the behemoth which is the steep hill into Dungworth after you pass the factory - a feat we achieved in decent time, getting us to the Royal Hotel at about 13.20, to find the pub closed, and to have the "helpful" 61 or 62 circular bus drive past us even though its a stop or hail anywhere service and despite being on the wrong side of the road we waved our arms clearly to show we wanted to board.

So, we laboured thirstily on, down Sykehouse Lane and onto New Road at Damflask, not knowing what times the Plough opened, so we walked along the road all the way at a very good pace. Being squashed between the hillside and the trees lining the water the sun wasn't weakened here by anything silly like wind, so it was actually quite hot.

We approached the pub desperate for refreshments, and noted cars in the car park, always a good sign, and blustered sweatily to the bar to order a pint of Derwent Williams Quest for Dave and a Farmers Plough for me, both costing £2.20 a pint. I asked what time they stopped serving, and the answer came - midnight. So, here's a thing, opening does bring you benefits, like customers and everything. Now, its fair to say that by the time we left after 15.00, what with food having finished at 14.30 and the throngs of elderly masticators gone, it was a tad quiet, but it was a welcome lifeline for us, and of course now means we can expect to go drinking there in the day on future walks.

Our next pints, sat in the bright sunshine on picnic tables near the car park, were Hambleton Mane Event and Bradfield Blonde for Dave and me respectively, the Hambleton being atypically sturdy Yorkshire dry bitter ale, and the Blonde being a bit warmer, and therefore markedly better, than at Minnies. We finished on excellent pints of Farmers Pale, a beer which only an hour or so earlier I had bemoaned having not seen for ages.

Soon we were on a more friendly bus ( and all journeys a pound ) back to Stannington to go to the Crown and Glove, now open, and with a few customers in the right hand room. We gad two pints each of the Wentworth Imperial, not my favourite Wentworth offering by a long shot, but apparently the Taylors landlord was not quite ready, and I didn't fancy a Black Sheep, literally or otherwise. Here we also took advantage of them letting u eat our sarnies outside on the benches, whilst quaffing our ales in the sunshine.

From here we walked down Spout Lane towards Rowell Bridge, and picked up a path heading diagonally along the valley side towards the Robin Hood. The path was bit inconstant at times, but we found our way along the steep bank and out onto a lower track that seemed to be much more reliable, and were soon at the Robin Hood, to bask in the joyous realisation that it was closed. Nowhere of course are the opening times displayed (that we could see), but the different boards subtly guided us to the conclusion that they didn't open on Tuesdays at all. How positively quaint !

So, with my having a need to meet, we headed across the valley and up onto the main Loxley Road and down to the Wisewood Inn. Not exactly a first choice destination of the real ale drinker, I did wander in briefly a few weeks ago and found Old Speckled hen and a Greedy King seasonal on offer, and whilst I utilised the facilities Dave ordered us both a half of the weaker and overly ubiquitous beer that is OSH. Into the evening as we were now, the pub was quite busy, and although I may complain about the real ale choice, at least it sells it, and at least it was open, and there is a fantastic view across the valley from the back window. We were out in time to catch the 61 or 62 up to the Nags Head, and sit inside in the right hand room at the end, enjoying the atmosphere, comfortable seats, and inescapably,
the excellent prices. Dave had the Bradfiled Old English Ale and myself more of the Pale, and we had time for a couple of halves of that as well before getting the 19.10 bus to the Royal at Dungworth.

There were two beers on, Cottage Southern Bitter and, what I an only estimate from my notes, was Bradfield Yorkshire Farmers. At this part of the evening the bus frequency changes slightly, which gave us enough time to have a hearty meal of steak and ale pie and chips, and another two pints (1 each), before we jumped on the bus to our final destination, the Anvil on Stannington Road.

Here we both had pints of Farmers Blonde, and were targeted for singing at and caterwauling by a man who was so far gone he made us look sober - a feat which, I now realise, was almost impossible, since we had accidentally put away 12 pints each during our travels. Now, I am not for a minute condoning our actions, not least because at this stage we were both fairly lucid and planning our final stop in town,a plan aborted when we tottered aimlessly off the bus on Snig Hill. However, I have to point out in mitigation that apart from being nice to the sozzled minstrel, much to the undoubted annoyance of long suffering Anvil regulars, we didn't cause any trouble, supported the rural economy, and did a good 11 miles of walking in the process.

So, in conclusion, don't try this at home (drinking 12 pints that is ), but do get out onto public transport and go round some pubs, obviously having meticulously checked that each and every one was open first, and see what the countryside around Sheffield had to offer.

Wee Beefy

Stout in Stannington - Crown and Glove, Peacock and Anvil

Good evening,

               it may have been grim today what with rain and wind but yesterday ( Saturday 2nd ) was gloriously sunny. So much so, that I decided to wander off up Stannington to get some views, soak up the weak spring sunshine and try some new pubs.

I started at Crookes, easy for me to reach on the bus, and walked along Stannington View Road (it seemed apt), down the jennel, and out into the field at the end of St Andrews Road. Instead of heading towards Mark lane I went straight down and over the stile then made my way down a steep slope, through the woods and eventually out on to the road. I headed down to the allotments then picked my way across the stream and through more steep woods out onto Rivelin Valley Road.

I then headed through Rivelin park and left up onto Roscoe Bank - a good start so far, except I wanted to start at the lowest point and catch the bus to the top, so I had to walk downhill for 5 minutes or more to the Anvil.

This large corner pub has a car park and small outdoor drinking area, and two large rooms inside. The main bar room is on the left with a well lit seating area and a bar with lots of dark wood panelling. Most of the punters were in here watching the, for once, good football news rolling across the screen, and I sat behind them keeping an eye on the scores. I had a pint of Bradfield Blonde from a choice of that and Black Sheep, the Bradfield was well kept and a hard earned reward after my near sprint, albeit a needless one, from Rivelin.

I went out about half past the hour to catch the number 11 bus - I had seen it at Roscoe bank at 4 minutes past so assumed it would be on the hour, 20 past and 20 to. Alas, the bus stop suggested this was not the case and I had obviously just missed one, so I began walking back up the hill to where I had joined Stannington Road.

Once on the bus I kept an eye out for the turn onto Uppergate Road, and having spotted the sign hopped off expecting to espy my intended destination. Alas my eyesight was having an off day so I headed initially left past the closed Hare and Hounds opposite the church.

The pub looked as if it had been shut a while based on the tempest of encroaching undergrowth, and I wondered what may have occasioned its closure. Certainly in comparison to other Stannington pubs (perhaps with the exception of the Sportsman ) it looked as if it would have struggled to compete in terms of traditional appearance - it appeared to be a 1960's prefab stuck incongruously across from the church, on a site which surely would have had an older pub there if not next to the church.

Its fair to say I see a lot of closed pubs and think, surely someone could make a go of that. I saw a pub, stood almost on its own near Meadowhall the other day, on a street off Attercliffe Road after the Wentworth,a road I had never had reason to travel down before, all of a sudden in the wilderness of flattened industry a dirty brown and grey, once terracotta fronted Stones pub loomed up, forlorn and abandoned but not seemingly in disrepair. Alas my fleeting glance meant I did not see what its name was, but I immediately started to imagine what could be done to save it, assuming, as I am afraid I have to, that it closed years ago. No such thoughts however, accompanied my view of the sad edifice of the Hare and Hounds.

On round the corner back on myself (I was sure i could see a sign on a wall) i walked up the hill to the Crown and Glove. The impressive frontage is large, looking like 3 or perhaps 4 buildings encompassed into one, the part on the left being the only one that still resembled a cottage or house. There is a 1930's style jug and bottle as you enter, with rooms on either side.

No-one was in the left side so I ventured to the right and found a few locals in the bar and the pubs dogs readying themselves for a walk. On the bar were 3 handpumps, with Black Sheep, a Tetley seasonal and Kelham Easy Rider on offer. I opted for the Kelham, although I did try the Tetley offering, which was not to my taste, reminding me of the things I dislike about the Tetley flavour whilst hiding the facets that make it distinct. I also had a trip down memory lane in the form of a couple of bags of Frazzles to stave off my hunger.

After the dogs (and owners ) returned I sat at one of the tables thronged by the large windows which afford a fantastic view over to Staithes and Rails, and was joined by Bella the bull terrier for a while before parking myself at the quiet bar for a chat with the barman. We discussed at length the vagaries and injustices of renting a pub from a pubco and the state of beer in Stannington amongst other subjects. Overall I had a fantastic time and intend to go again soon.

Heading for the Robin Hood at Little Matlock I popped in the Peacock on the off chance this Thwaites house would have some dark beer - and was well rewarded. The pub was heaving with diners and drinkers sat outside catching the fading evening sun.

On the bar were three handpulls, dispensing a range of Lancaster bomber, Nutty Black and Black Magic, a dark porter style beer with a lovely cappuccino head and a robust malty finish. It was impressive enough to see them selling a dark mild but the porter was a revelation, so much so that i stopped for a pint despite being by now a little behind schedule.

15 minutes later I was walking down the path to the Robin Hood, which was quiet inside but a lot of people, mainly families were sat outside. This had been my first experience of the pub when we used to visit on summers evenings when I was a kid. We would sit outside or, more likely in my case, go on the swings or the climbing frame ( which may have been a pile of rocks, or indeed any structure, but was climbable nonetheless).

Inside there were two Bradfield beers on the bar, the Blonde and one which may have been called Decade, which is what I had, with some emergency olives to put me on - not a traditional beer accompaniment I know, but a change from crisps. Alas I could not linger for food so had to trudge back up the path and on eventually to Myers Grove lane where i caught the bus, making it all the way back on two buses to Handsworth in 45 minutes. So, a successful day of stout walking and almost stout drinking in sunny Stannington, where all the pubs I visited served more than one real ale, and were just reward for a weary walker.

Wee Beefy