Hello folks,
as this is a beer blog am not going to allocate too much space to my Dad and his situation. Partly to protect his privacy, but also because, ostensibly, he is neither a beer, nor a pub. I may be 50% beer by now, but Wee Fatha drinks less than me. And his favourite tipple these days is Whisky anyway...
Wee Fatha's mobility is becoming restricted ever more and he goes out less. One thing he does therefore like is just that. Going out. If it hadn't been writ large on his face all night it was certainly clear in his smile in the photos we took whilst on our jolly. That and a bottle of whisky from his untried list was the perfect birthday present.
Wee Keefy picked me up and we drove over to Wee Fatha's around 17.30 to head out to Bakewell, Monyash, Crowdecote, Longnor and finally on to Reapsmoor. WK had worried we may have arrived too early to pick up WF but we didn't leave until 18.10, and were booked in at the Butchers at 19.00. After a well driven trek across moorlands and through dales we arrived about 10 minutes late. Pulling up outside Ye Olde Butchers Arms Carl came out to welcome us, although he forgot that we were coming for WF's birthday, and closed the door behind me - luckily WF's glacial pace meant he hadn't yet reached the door....
Inside all three fires were lit and we got the big table facing the bar. Later diners sat in the room on the right, and as per previous visits, the room soon filled with smoke from the big old burner attached to the chimney - I meanwhile sat as far as I could from the raging fire next to me in case I set alight.
On the bar was one turned round pumpclip and two empty handpulls. The turned round one said Black Sheep bitter on it, but regular visitors will know that pump clips are a meaningless diversion at the Butchers. Much of the time Carl doesn't know what is on. If he does, or even if he doesn't, he doesn't share it with you. The beer was brown and bitter. It was well kept. It was £2.70 a pint, although the barman didn't know that. I had three pints.
We ordered food with Carl sat next to us - he asked WF what he wanted and was instructed that he just wanted a steak with a handful of chips and no veg or salad. I saw Carl write this down. He also said it was fine. When the meals came all three were piled high with chips, veg and salad. Carl said "thats ow we do um here mate, thats ow we alluss have". WF was not impressed but me and WK dipped into his chips and veg and Carl offered him the chance to take some home. Our meals were staggeringly large. As alluss.....
After fussing and feeding Thea and Sadie the two Alsations, WF slid off icily for a trip to the loo and me and WK got chatting to a couple nearby, and had more beer - well, I did, WK was on softs as he was driving. We didn't leave until nearly 21.30 and headed straight for the Royal Cottage. Alas the light outside wasn't on and the upstairs was so Cliff had clearly closed early. This just means that we will have to go back again...
Our final stop (I had hoped to visit the Packhorse at Crowdecote since its for sale, but that will also have to be next time) was at the Quiet Woman in Earl Sterndale. Being the first weekend of the month we figured it would be open, and it was. We found out that Ken is only two years younger than my Dad, and also some info which perhaps explained the food issue we had encountered at the Butchers earlier. There were three beers on and I had a pint of Wainwright, WK a half of Marstons Bitter and WF a half of Burton Bridge XL Mild.
I have observed before that Ken seems to be closing the pub slowly and laboriously, almost by default. He told us that Earl Sterndale had about 200 residents and they had 60 dogs. This makes his ban on dogs in the pub even less understandable. He also mentioned the lack of born and bred Earl Sterndalians in the village and suggested that many locals no longer came in. Disappointing as this obviously is, the beer already told the same story.
WF is no judge of off beer so I forgave him thinking the Mild was OK, the Bitter which is what I think Ken drinks, was fine, and the Wainwright was awful. I mean, I drank it, blending the sharp edges with the odd sweetness as if they were citrus and elderflower, but it was definitely not a good drink. I had to finish on a half of the Bitter. Did I mention it? No. I don't think there is any point. Not because Ken would contest the complaint, or refuse to replace the pint, but because I think its part of the subtle but noticable wresting free of the pub that seems to be happening, more obviously, every time we go. Am not 100% convinced I shouldn't have said something though.
Ken kindly came out with us as WF slowly and painstakingly shuffled off, his immobility and refusal to change somehow mirroring the steadfastedness of the excellent old pub. People in the village need to go in more often if the beer is to be maintained, and persons from outside of the area also need to visit more regularly. This is not going to put us off from going, not at all, it just makes us worry about the day in the not too distant future when we turn up and find the Quiet Woman quietly closed.
Next time I suggest we eat at the Packhorse, drink at Cliff's and finish in he Grapes at Longnor - maybe opening another chapter in our Moorlands supping story.
Your very good health
Wee Beefy.
Showing posts with label Butchers Reapsmoor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Butchers Reapsmoor. Show all posts
Saturday, 10 November 2018
Sunday, 16 August 2015
Three different North Staffordshire pubs.
Hello,
after a bit of a health shock on Thursday (now recovered, thankfully), it was nice to catch up with Wee Fatha, Tash and Matty last night for Matty's first trip out to the North Staffordshire Moorlands. As it was his first trip out there, WF planned a less than expedient but thankfully beautiful trip out to show off the sunny scenery, which if nothing else, meant we arrived at our first pub hungry.
We set off around 17.00 and after an unexpected stop at WF's we headed into Chesterfield and then down to Baslow. We drove through Chatsworth then Youlgreave, Lathkil Dale to Monyash and then through Crowdecote and Longnor and onto Reapsmoor. Here, lit by only a single light in crisp evening sunshine, was the Butchers Arms.
On the bar, Carl had gone mad and put 2 pumpclips onto demonstrate what beer was available. Its an in joke at the Butchers, that you either have no punpclips, and he does or doesn't know what is on, or you have one and its something different. This time, the two were Clarks Number 19, which he described as "sweeter" and Island Hopping, a hoppy pale ale. This turned out to be from Orkney based Highland Brewery - there is a link to their website here. Easily the better beer of the two. And quite a surprise to see. Also, a decent price as well - 2 and a half of that and a pint of Clarks came to £8.60.
We were here mainly for food and soon had a seat in an initially smokey back room, and a menu each. The pub is very busy for food Saturdays so we had to order quickly. Me and Wee Fatha went for a couple of Barnsley lamb chops with minted gravy, peas and salad and chips (new pots for WF), while Tash had homemade peppered pork and chips and veg and Matty had an absolute doorstep of a meat and tatties pie and chips. The food worked out about £10.75 each and it was delicious. A great start to the evening. To note, no dogs were in the room when we ate, and more shocking, Carl wasn't wearing shorts! He must be unwell bless him.
From here we carried on and followed our normal route, except for diverting via the Mermaid, the ex pub high on the Staffordshire moors before coming out on the A53. Past the Winking Man, our next destination was ahead of us - the Royal Cottage. We got in before 21.00 and there were two customers already in. I had a bottle of Speckled Hen as I always do, and WF a Manns and Tash and Matty a Newky Brown each.
Despite sporting a recently repainted sign, nothing has changed inside. The bar front is still carved wood, the odd brickwork wallpaper still sits over the fire with old pictures and news reports and details of land sales, Cliff's chair still has the same covers on it, and there is still a Tetley keg pump on the bar. Given that he only ever used to put it on for the monthly folk nights, from two weeks ago, I didn't risk any.
Soon the pub became busy - a couple came in, and sat where Cliff would, and a guy called Martin. The older gent next to us left about 22.00 but three ladies came in who were connected to (but I don't think lived at) a nearby hall. I swear, on a none folk night, there were 11 customers in the Royal Cottage. No word of a lie, I have never seen this except on folk nights.
We listened in on conversations about land sales and farmers and weddings and local pubs, including stories about Carl and his Dad from the Butchers, and me and Matty shared another Old Speckled Hen. However, soon it was 22.30 and we had to head off to Ken's - after all, we didn't want to find him closed. Arriving at 22.44....he very much was. We even knocked on the door but no answer came. WK is camping at the Quiet Woman next weekend, so I will warn him to get back early!
Our final stop was just down the hill at the Packhorse Inn at Crowdecote. Given that it was shut before 2300 last time I hurried in at 22.55 and got served. We had three pints of Leadmill Sheffield Wednesday beer, and WF had a half of Byards Hop Dog - I may have mis-remembered this as there appears to be no such brewery!
We also had a half of Moravka the unpasteurised pilsner form Taddington, and settled down to listen in on a farmer and 2 lads discussing the attendance - or none - at a local 18th Birthday party. The ale was well kept and slipped dwn very nicely as the conversation swung from why we had come here all the way from Sheffield, to what punishment must be inflicted on the younger of the three if he didn't pass his driving test by November.
We haven't been in for a year so this was a good chance to catch up and once again to enjoy a good range of real ales, of which there are four, with plenty of good beers coming on soon. Different, granted, to the older farmhouse style boozers of the Butchers and Royal Cottage, this is still an excellent pub, serving good food and ales. The only snag is, it may not, in fact, be in Staffordshire! Well worth a try anyway, despite.
So, a second trip in the area saw us once again miss the Quiet Woman, which is a real shame, but revisiting the Butchers and Packhorse was well worth the somewhat arduous drive. Having passed so many closed pubs en route, it was also good to see all three doing so well.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
after a bit of a health shock on Thursday (now recovered, thankfully), it was nice to catch up with Wee Fatha, Tash and Matty last night for Matty's first trip out to the North Staffordshire Moorlands. As it was his first trip out there, WF planned a less than expedient but thankfully beautiful trip out to show off the sunny scenery, which if nothing else, meant we arrived at our first pub hungry.
We set off around 17.00 and after an unexpected stop at WF's we headed into Chesterfield and then down to Baslow. We drove through Chatsworth then Youlgreave, Lathkil Dale to Monyash and then through Crowdecote and Longnor and onto Reapsmoor. Here, lit by only a single light in crisp evening sunshine, was the Butchers Arms.
On the bar, Carl had gone mad and put 2 pumpclips onto demonstrate what beer was available. Its an in joke at the Butchers, that you either have no punpclips, and he does or doesn't know what is on, or you have one and its something different. This time, the two were Clarks Number 19, which he described as "sweeter" and Island Hopping, a hoppy pale ale. This turned out to be from Orkney based Highland Brewery - there is a link to their website here. Easily the better beer of the two. And quite a surprise to see. Also, a decent price as well - 2 and a half of that and a pint of Clarks came to £8.60.
We were here mainly for food and soon had a seat in an initially smokey back room, and a menu each. The pub is very busy for food Saturdays so we had to order quickly. Me and Wee Fatha went for a couple of Barnsley lamb chops with minted gravy, peas and salad and chips (new pots for WF), while Tash had homemade peppered pork and chips and veg and Matty had an absolute doorstep of a meat and tatties pie and chips. The food worked out about £10.75 each and it was delicious. A great start to the evening. To note, no dogs were in the room when we ate, and more shocking, Carl wasn't wearing shorts! He must be unwell bless him.
From here we carried on and followed our normal route, except for diverting via the Mermaid, the ex pub high on the Staffordshire moors before coming out on the A53. Past the Winking Man, our next destination was ahead of us - the Royal Cottage. We got in before 21.00 and there were two customers already in. I had a bottle of Speckled Hen as I always do, and WF a Manns and Tash and Matty a Newky Brown each.
Despite sporting a recently repainted sign, nothing has changed inside. The bar front is still carved wood, the odd brickwork wallpaper still sits over the fire with old pictures and news reports and details of land sales, Cliff's chair still has the same covers on it, and there is still a Tetley keg pump on the bar. Given that he only ever used to put it on for the monthly folk nights, from two weeks ago, I didn't risk any.
Soon the pub became busy - a couple came in, and sat where Cliff would, and a guy called Martin. The older gent next to us left about 22.00 but three ladies came in who were connected to (but I don't think lived at) a nearby hall. I swear, on a none folk night, there were 11 customers in the Royal Cottage. No word of a lie, I have never seen this except on folk nights.
We listened in on conversations about land sales and farmers and weddings and local pubs, including stories about Carl and his Dad from the Butchers, and me and Matty shared another Old Speckled Hen. However, soon it was 22.30 and we had to head off to Ken's - after all, we didn't want to find him closed. Arriving at 22.44....he very much was. We even knocked on the door but no answer came. WK is camping at the Quiet Woman next weekend, so I will warn him to get back early!
Our final stop was just down the hill at the Packhorse Inn at Crowdecote. Given that it was shut before 2300 last time I hurried in at 22.55 and got served. We had three pints of Leadmill Sheffield Wednesday beer, and WF had a half of Byards Hop Dog - I may have mis-remembered this as there appears to be no such brewery!
We also had a half of Moravka the unpasteurised pilsner form Taddington, and settled down to listen in on a farmer and 2 lads discussing the attendance - or none - at a local 18th Birthday party. The ale was well kept and slipped dwn very nicely as the conversation swung from why we had come here all the way from Sheffield, to what punishment must be inflicted on the younger of the three if he didn't pass his driving test by November.
We haven't been in for a year so this was a good chance to catch up and once again to enjoy a good range of real ales, of which there are four, with plenty of good beers coming on soon. Different, granted, to the older farmhouse style boozers of the Butchers and Royal Cottage, this is still an excellent pub, serving good food and ales. The only snag is, it may not, in fact, be in Staffordshire! Well worth a try anyway, despite.
So, a second trip in the area saw us once again miss the Quiet Woman, which is a real shame, but revisiting the Butchers and Packhorse was well worth the somewhat arduous drive. Having passed so many closed pubs en route, it was also good to see all three doing so well.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Saturday, 28 September 2013
North Staffordshire nights
Hello
It was the end of the working week. Some cataclysmic occurrence had rendered the city centre an immovable mass of abandoned vehicles, cordons, roadblocks, and amassed irritable people, short of fuse and bereft of answers . The birds took flight. The stray dogs stopped barking. The air went cold. And nobody bought an ice cream.
It was time to head to the moors.....
Under purple, red, and yellow hued skies we headed for Ladybower, passed through Bradwell, Tideswell and Millers Dale, passed the turn for Chelmorton on the snaking road to Brierlow Bar and then headed through Earl Sterndale, Crowdecote and Longnor before arriving, as the sun set over Flash, at a small unassuming building with a darkened wooden board above the door, and an A board across the road with nothing written on it.
Inside, the Butchers at Reapsmoor was already busy, and Carl was stood behind the bar aiming to tempt us with whatever was on his hand pumps on this crisp colour splashed moorland night. Unusually, he quickly caved in and admitted that the beer on the left was Jennings Cumberland. We were disappointed - where was the guesswork and hopeless clues? There was also a mild. No stranger a thought had entered my mind - Carl doesn't serve mild does he? Well, since he doesn't usually remember what he is selling himself, who knows? Luckily normality was restored, since he couldn't recall the name of the beer. Or its strength.
His daughter said "its 4.5%" as he told a customer it was 4.0%. Wee Fatha piped up "it says 4.6% on the pumpclip". Carl said "do you read everything it says on the front of a bus?". I couldn't see how this helped clarify anything, but he seemed pleased that this removed the need for any further questions, as we filed through to the room on the right with our beers - a pint of Mild and half for Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha - and a pint each of Cumberland for myself and Miss N.
Soon a canine party popper was let off and a herd of Alsatians rushed in, bristling between the chairs and tables, sussing out which one of us seemed most taken in by their enormous "feed me" eyes, and were therefore the best to be leaned on or stared at as we ate. Meanwhile, bellies rumbling as we waited, we all migrated onto the Cumberland since, alas, the mild was very much on its last legs. This saw us through our mammoth plates of Barnsley lamb chops and mixed grill.
Soon we were off over the moors to another isolated gem. A missed turn on the moors road towards Morridge brought us out onto the A53 before the incongruous Winking Man nightclub, but 300 yards up the road a defiantly modest single light and a jumble of cars showed us the Royal Cottage was busy - it was the last Friday of the month and was therefore folk night. We couldn't even get parked in the pub car park it was that busy. Those seeking assurances that the pub is still open - read on and rejoice.
Inside, the left had room was open and a large number of instruments and music stands clustered at the end of the bar to be retrieved when needed by the musical throng. Cliff looked rushed off his feet, draught beer was on, the fire was lit, and it was warm and joyful. Three bottles of Old Speckled Hen and a Manns Brown Ale for the driver were secured, and we sat down near the fire with a couple of dogs propping themselves against our legs or lying on our feet. The music from the other room drifted seamlessly from folk to a classic blues song, then some Appalachian sounding choral number, then a didgeridoo, and back to old English songs of lost love. And we talked, fussed dogs, and watched and listened. It was just what we needed.
It seems perhaps trite to describe somewhere as being timeless but there were two senses of that at play there last night - yes, it seems never to have changed in terms of decor since the 1960's or 1970's, and the furniture appears to predate that, but its also somewhere that you can lose track of time. Before we knew it, with Miss N and WK on Newky Brown, we had, and were discussing racing over to Earl Sterndale for a last one. Wee Keefy's powers of persuasion worked and we were out in the chill of the nigh walking back to the car, none of us seemingly having realised it was gone 23.00.
Back through the lanes there was only the landlord and one of the regulars in at the Quiet Woman - obviously we now know that was indicative of the late hour we arrived rather than it being particularly slow on trade. WK had a pint of Jennings Dark Mild, myself and Miss N a very nice pint of Wincle Waller, and WF a half of the same. Drinks in hand, we repaired to the dominoes table to talk Royal Cottage, moorland pubs and ailments with the two gentlemen until long after we should all have been home in our beds.
So ended a fantastic, needful escape from the haste and stress of the city. With three excellent pubs, and three indomitable landlords at the helm in to the bargain.
Cheers
Wee Beefy
It was the end of the working week. Some cataclysmic occurrence had rendered the city centre an immovable mass of abandoned vehicles, cordons, roadblocks, and amassed irritable people, short of fuse and bereft of answers . The birds took flight. The stray dogs stopped barking. The air went cold. And nobody bought an ice cream.
It was time to head to the moors.....
Under purple, red, and yellow hued skies we headed for Ladybower, passed through Bradwell, Tideswell and Millers Dale, passed the turn for Chelmorton on the snaking road to Brierlow Bar and then headed through Earl Sterndale, Crowdecote and Longnor before arriving, as the sun set over Flash, at a small unassuming building with a darkened wooden board above the door, and an A board across the road with nothing written on it.
Inside, the Butchers at Reapsmoor was already busy, and Carl was stood behind the bar aiming to tempt us with whatever was on his hand pumps on this crisp colour splashed moorland night. Unusually, he quickly caved in and admitted that the beer on the left was Jennings Cumberland. We were disappointed - where was the guesswork and hopeless clues? There was also a mild. No stranger a thought had entered my mind - Carl doesn't serve mild does he? Well, since he doesn't usually remember what he is selling himself, who knows? Luckily normality was restored, since he couldn't recall the name of the beer. Or its strength.
His daughter said "its 4.5%" as he told a customer it was 4.0%. Wee Fatha piped up "it says 4.6% on the pumpclip". Carl said "do you read everything it says on the front of a bus?". I couldn't see how this helped clarify anything, but he seemed pleased that this removed the need for any further questions, as we filed through to the room on the right with our beers - a pint of Mild and half for Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha - and a pint each of Cumberland for myself and Miss N.
Soon a canine party popper was let off and a herd of Alsatians rushed in, bristling between the chairs and tables, sussing out which one of us seemed most taken in by their enormous "feed me" eyes, and were therefore the best to be leaned on or stared at as we ate. Meanwhile, bellies rumbling as we waited, we all migrated onto the Cumberland since, alas, the mild was very much on its last legs. This saw us through our mammoth plates of Barnsley lamb chops and mixed grill.
Soon we were off over the moors to another isolated gem. A missed turn on the moors road towards Morridge brought us out onto the A53 before the incongruous Winking Man nightclub, but 300 yards up the road a defiantly modest single light and a jumble of cars showed us the Royal Cottage was busy - it was the last Friday of the month and was therefore folk night. We couldn't even get parked in the pub car park it was that busy. Those seeking assurances that the pub is still open - read on and rejoice.
Inside, the left had room was open and a large number of instruments and music stands clustered at the end of the bar to be retrieved when needed by the musical throng. Cliff looked rushed off his feet, draught beer was on, the fire was lit, and it was warm and joyful. Three bottles of Old Speckled Hen and a Manns Brown Ale for the driver were secured, and we sat down near the fire with a couple of dogs propping themselves against our legs or lying on our feet. The music from the other room drifted seamlessly from folk to a classic blues song, then some Appalachian sounding choral number, then a didgeridoo, and back to old English songs of lost love. And we talked, fussed dogs, and watched and listened. It was just what we needed.
It seems perhaps trite to describe somewhere as being timeless but there were two senses of that at play there last night - yes, it seems never to have changed in terms of decor since the 1960's or 1970's, and the furniture appears to predate that, but its also somewhere that you can lose track of time. Before we knew it, with Miss N and WK on Newky Brown, we had, and were discussing racing over to Earl Sterndale for a last one. Wee Keefy's powers of persuasion worked and we were out in the chill of the nigh walking back to the car, none of us seemingly having realised it was gone 23.00.
Back through the lanes there was only the landlord and one of the regulars in at the Quiet Woman - obviously we now know that was indicative of the late hour we arrived rather than it being particularly slow on trade. WK had a pint of Jennings Dark Mild, myself and Miss N a very nice pint of Wincle Waller, and WF a half of the same. Drinks in hand, we repaired to the dominoes table to talk Royal Cottage, moorland pubs and ailments with the two gentlemen until long after we should all have been home in our beds.
So ended a fantastic, needful escape from the haste and stress of the city. With three excellent pubs, and three indomitable landlords at the helm in to the bargain.
Cheers
Wee Beefy
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Epic three counties beer tour
Afternoon,
I won't make any apologies for the superlative above because what I am about to describe really was a massive undertaking, featuring some of the most stunning scenery, absurd roads, momentous vistas and finest pubs. Barraharri was the driver who made the trip possible, and if we conveniently sidestep the fact that camping didn't go to plan due to a lack of poles, this was a fantastic day out. Here's what happened (apologies for the length of this post!).
We set off in inauspicious circumstances, taking the Staveley exit from the M1 (and then the Staveley ageing process road) into Chesterfield, before finding our way up to Walton Hospital and over the moor to Two Dales. Our delay meant we could have legitimately stopped off at the Plough but it was a Friday lunch so it wasn't guaranteed they'd be open - unfortunately, this Friday lunch malarkey was something that slipped my mind prior to stop number one.
Having headed through Darley Bridge and Wensley, where the bizarre and eccentric Red Lion is now reportedly closed, we drove to Winster and wound our way up the barely drivable snickett that comes out at the Miners Standard then headed over Bonsall moor into Uppertown. Here we took the preposterous road down into the dale, to find a beer festival banner at the Barley Mow, and it closed. They don't open Friday's. They probably never have. I thought it was Saturday. Silly beefy...
From here we came out onto the Via Gellia and followed the road as far as Newhaven then headed down the A515, coming off past Shining Tor to Milldale and Hopedale, then through Stanshope to Ilam, followed the footpath/road through Throwley and out onto the Leek Road at Waterhouses, to head to teh Yew Tree at Cauldon. Which was also closed. Doh.
Barraharri wore a pained expression, I was annoyed, but as we later discovered, the landlord had been unwell, and somebody else was running the bar for him. They really did used to open dinnertimes, but this was obviously no longer the case. Knowing that the Red Lion at Waterfall would also be closed we headed into Leek, parked up and visited the excellent Wilkes Head.
Three beers on here, all from Whim, Barraharri went for the Hartington Bitter and me a pint of the IPA, which lasted about 5 minutes. I also went back for a pint of the excellent Flower Power. All the beers including the stronger 5.2% Flower Power were below £3.00 a pint (the latter £2.90). An excellent if belated start.
Next we had to suffer the dismay of driving on a proper road into Macclesfield and on to Bollington where we parked up and visited the Vale Inn. There were 5 Bollington Brewery Co beers on with one guest from Blackjack Brewing. Barraharri enjoyed a half of Parklife and me a pint of the 500 nights (I think, it was dark anyway) which was a fabulous smooth roasted malt delight that went down well.
Since we were now effectively early, we decided to go for a walk and maybe another beer. It was gone three and we passed the Hollybush, Bollington's National Inventory listed pub, but in keeping with our theme of abject closed pub disappointment the door was locked. We walked onto the Poachers, not really expecting it to be open, which inevitably it wasn't. We completed our Bollington circuit via 2 more closed pubs and one which was open which we decided to give a wide berth before getting back in the car. On our way out we noticed the Holly Bush was now open, but the moment was lost and we decided instead to press on.
Up to Pymchair next for a look at the views and a late dinner, before we got back onto the route, somewhat wiggly, to Earl Sterndale, via Wincle and the Royal Cottage (so we could memorise its location for later). We headed past Lamaload and straight across the main road into Wildboarclough, followed its length then headed down into Wincle for gone 17.00, alas, that was too early for the Ship at Wincle to be open as well, although I hadn't expected to be there that early.
Next we followed the road over the moors to Royal Cottage before heading along Dale Head and down Dowal Dale then up to Earl Sterndale for 10 to 6 - we had told them we would arrive about 6. We parked up in the least fly-y place, and started to unfurl the tent.....and discovered half of the poles were missing. How we laughed. This was not a simple A frame tent so no poles 3 and 4 meant no tent. I'm not apportioning any blame here but Barraharri was very annoyed with himself. And we were too early for the Quiet Woman to open....
A lesser duo may have given up at this point but we pressed on, not least because we needed a loo stop. In Longnor, we found the Grapes, Crewe and Harpur Arms and Cheshire Cheese shut (but then, has the Cheshire Cheese ever been open?) which is surprising for nearly 18.30 on a Friday, but luckily the Horseshoes was forging a path by being open, so we popped in for a pint of Marstons Bitter (two in my case) whilst Barraharri spent 20 minutes waiting at the chippy for the most rubbish fishcake butty you ever saw. The proprietors of the chip shop really need to go to Betty's to see how its really done.
Next we drove the short distance to the excellent Butchers Arms at Reapsmoor. They opened a few minutes after we got there (officially its 18.45) and we were soon inside, playing the find out the identity of the real ale game. Only one on this time, an apple themed ale which Carl repeatedly insisted he did not know the identity of. Which was a shame, as it was quite nice.
We got settled down near one of the fires and admired the view across the moors whilst supping our refreshing fayre (a delicious water for Barraharri) as the pub quickly filled up with drinkers and diners. Please note that a rudimentary web search has thrown up very few suggestions for the beer's identity, unless it was Downton or Wissey Valley, both of which seem very unlikely. Perhaps Springhead Bramley Bitter?
Anyway we made our way over to Royal Cottage next, stopping to photograph the view at the Mermaids pool, before parking up next to the pub and enjoying the views over Staffordshire. The Royal Cottage opens "about 20.00" but the landlord has always said that you can knock if you are in the area earlier and he'll let you in. At 20.00 we caved in and knocked and Cliff let us in to the dimly lit delights of this ultra traditional pub.
The very first time I came was bout 6 years ago and it was a folk night - there was draught beer, in the form of Tetley smoothflow, which I think he'd bought in specially. It was certainly heaving, so no doubt he sold most of it, but I've never spotted draught beer since. So my beer was a bottle of Old Speckled Hen whilst Barraharri experimented with a small bottle of Manns, just for the novelty.
We stood in the dim light (Cliff turns the light off over the bar when he's not serving!) and chatted to him and his friend and fussed the enormous rottweiler that has the gruffest and loudest bark, but not a temperament to match. It was here we found out about the Yew Tree and the fate of the Red Lion at Wensley, and discussed some of the finer points of life in Sheffield over our drinks.
I think its safe to say that I don't know of another pub like the Royal Cottage. Its a dying breed of farmhouse pubs that serve as company for the farmer and a place to meet for the locals, and probably almost never sees passing trade, although visitors are made to feel welcome. Bearing in mind that its only open from 8ish onwards Friday and Saturday, I reckon a casual unplanned visit is unlikely, but I highly recommend you make the effort to go. Please be aware that Cliff insists he's not about to start serving food any time soon....
We headed towards Elton next, and petrol became a bit of a preoccupation. We drove through Hartington and up to the main road then into Monyash, and decided that we would have to divert so headed to the garage in Bakewell for supplies. We now had just enough time to go to the Duke of York at Elton, having missed the Winster turning, by the rather lengthy but pleasant dawdle from Middleton by Youlgrave. We were able to park up outside the pub, distinguishable only by my knowing exactly where it was, and a dim light above the doorway.
Inside there was a choice of two beers, Adnams and I think Marstons Bitter. I went for the Adnams but it was very tired and noting that everyone buying cask was on Martsons perhaps should have been a hint to what would have been a better choice. Sat by the fire we got chatting to Len who used to work at Rolls Royce, whilst surveying the unchanging scene in the tiny bar. I seem to get out to the Duke of York less and less now, which is a real shame, because this is a fantastic unspoilt country pub on the National Inventory of unspoilt pub interiors.
All too soon we had to leave and got back to Dronfield by 22.30, Barraharri dropping me at the Coach and horses whilst he went to park the car. We had a few pints in here, mainly Jaipur and Lord Marples, although I did also have a rather enjoyable bottle of Urthel Saisonnaire, before we got a couple of pints (or more?) of Jaipur to take away, and enjoyed them at Barraharri's with homemade burgers.
The moral of this story is clearly, never go on a Friday! But had we been stopping over at Earl Sterndale we would have got to more pubs such as the redoubtable Quiet Woman, and perhaps Waterfall and Cauldon on the way home.
Either way this was a really enjoyable, if tiring and frustrating day out in fantastic countryside.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
I won't make any apologies for the superlative above because what I am about to describe really was a massive undertaking, featuring some of the most stunning scenery, absurd roads, momentous vistas and finest pubs. Barraharri was the driver who made the trip possible, and if we conveniently sidestep the fact that camping didn't go to plan due to a lack of poles, this was a fantastic day out. Here's what happened (apologies for the length of this post!).
We set off in inauspicious circumstances, taking the Staveley exit from the M1 (and then the Staveley ageing process road) into Chesterfield, before finding our way up to Walton Hospital and over the moor to Two Dales. Our delay meant we could have legitimately stopped off at the Plough but it was a Friday lunch so it wasn't guaranteed they'd be open - unfortunately, this Friday lunch malarkey was something that slipped my mind prior to stop number one.
Having headed through Darley Bridge and Wensley, where the bizarre and eccentric Red Lion is now reportedly closed, we drove to Winster and wound our way up the barely drivable snickett that comes out at the Miners Standard then headed over Bonsall moor into Uppertown. Here we took the preposterous road down into the dale, to find a beer festival banner at the Barley Mow, and it closed. They don't open Friday's. They probably never have. I thought it was Saturday. Silly beefy...
From here we came out onto the Via Gellia and followed the road as far as Newhaven then headed down the A515, coming off past Shining Tor to Milldale and Hopedale, then through Stanshope to Ilam, followed the footpath/road through Throwley and out onto the Leek Road at Waterhouses, to head to teh Yew Tree at Cauldon. Which was also closed. Doh.
Barraharri wore a pained expression, I was annoyed, but as we later discovered, the landlord had been unwell, and somebody else was running the bar for him. They really did used to open dinnertimes, but this was obviously no longer the case. Knowing that the Red Lion at Waterfall would also be closed we headed into Leek, parked up and visited the excellent Wilkes Head.
Three beers on here, all from Whim, Barraharri went for the Hartington Bitter and me a pint of the IPA, which lasted about 5 minutes. I also went back for a pint of the excellent Flower Power. All the beers including the stronger 5.2% Flower Power were below £3.00 a pint (the latter £2.90). An excellent if belated start.
Next we had to suffer the dismay of driving on a proper road into Macclesfield and on to Bollington where we parked up and visited the Vale Inn. There were 5 Bollington Brewery Co beers on with one guest from Blackjack Brewing. Barraharri enjoyed a half of Parklife and me a pint of the 500 nights (I think, it was dark anyway) which was a fabulous smooth roasted malt delight that went down well.
Since we were now effectively early, we decided to go for a walk and maybe another beer. It was gone three and we passed the Hollybush, Bollington's National Inventory listed pub, but in keeping with our theme of abject closed pub disappointment the door was locked. We walked onto the Poachers, not really expecting it to be open, which inevitably it wasn't. We completed our Bollington circuit via 2 more closed pubs and one which was open which we decided to give a wide berth before getting back in the car. On our way out we noticed the Holly Bush was now open, but the moment was lost and we decided instead to press on.
Up to Pymchair next for a look at the views and a late dinner, before we got back onto the route, somewhat wiggly, to Earl Sterndale, via Wincle and the Royal Cottage (so we could memorise its location for later). We headed past Lamaload and straight across the main road into Wildboarclough, followed its length then headed down into Wincle for gone 17.00, alas, that was too early for the Ship at Wincle to be open as well, although I hadn't expected to be there that early.
Next we followed the road over the moors to Royal Cottage before heading along Dale Head and down Dowal Dale then up to Earl Sterndale for 10 to 6 - we had told them we would arrive about 6. We parked up in the least fly-y place, and started to unfurl the tent.....and discovered half of the poles were missing. How we laughed. This was not a simple A frame tent so no poles 3 and 4 meant no tent. I'm not apportioning any blame here but Barraharri was very annoyed with himself. And we were too early for the Quiet Woman to open....
A lesser duo may have given up at this point but we pressed on, not least because we needed a loo stop. In Longnor, we found the Grapes, Crewe and Harpur Arms and Cheshire Cheese shut (but then, has the Cheshire Cheese ever been open?) which is surprising for nearly 18.30 on a Friday, but luckily the Horseshoes was forging a path by being open, so we popped in for a pint of Marstons Bitter (two in my case) whilst Barraharri spent 20 minutes waiting at the chippy for the most rubbish fishcake butty you ever saw. The proprietors of the chip shop really need to go to Betty's to see how its really done.
Next we drove the short distance to the excellent Butchers Arms at Reapsmoor. They opened a few minutes after we got there (officially its 18.45) and we were soon inside, playing the find out the identity of the real ale game. Only one on this time, an apple themed ale which Carl repeatedly insisted he did not know the identity of. Which was a shame, as it was quite nice.
We got settled down near one of the fires and admired the view across the moors whilst supping our refreshing fayre (a delicious water for Barraharri) as the pub quickly filled up with drinkers and diners. Please note that a rudimentary web search has thrown up very few suggestions for the beer's identity, unless it was Downton or Wissey Valley, both of which seem very unlikely. Perhaps Springhead Bramley Bitter?
Anyway we made our way over to Royal Cottage next, stopping to photograph the view at the Mermaids pool, before parking up next to the pub and enjoying the views over Staffordshire. The Royal Cottage opens "about 20.00" but the landlord has always said that you can knock if you are in the area earlier and he'll let you in. At 20.00 we caved in and knocked and Cliff let us in to the dimly lit delights of this ultra traditional pub.
The very first time I came was bout 6 years ago and it was a folk night - there was draught beer, in the form of Tetley smoothflow, which I think he'd bought in specially. It was certainly heaving, so no doubt he sold most of it, but I've never spotted draught beer since. So my beer was a bottle of Old Speckled Hen whilst Barraharri experimented with a small bottle of Manns, just for the novelty.
We stood in the dim light (Cliff turns the light off over the bar when he's not serving!) and chatted to him and his friend and fussed the enormous rottweiler that has the gruffest and loudest bark, but not a temperament to match. It was here we found out about the Yew Tree and the fate of the Red Lion at Wensley, and discussed some of the finer points of life in Sheffield over our drinks.
I think its safe to say that I don't know of another pub like the Royal Cottage. Its a dying breed of farmhouse pubs that serve as company for the farmer and a place to meet for the locals, and probably almost never sees passing trade, although visitors are made to feel welcome. Bearing in mind that its only open from 8ish onwards Friday and Saturday, I reckon a casual unplanned visit is unlikely, but I highly recommend you make the effort to go. Please be aware that Cliff insists he's not about to start serving food any time soon....
We headed towards Elton next, and petrol became a bit of a preoccupation. We drove through Hartington and up to the main road then into Monyash, and decided that we would have to divert so headed to the garage in Bakewell for supplies. We now had just enough time to go to the Duke of York at Elton, having missed the Winster turning, by the rather lengthy but pleasant dawdle from Middleton by Youlgrave. We were able to park up outside the pub, distinguishable only by my knowing exactly where it was, and a dim light above the doorway.
Inside there was a choice of two beers, Adnams and I think Marstons Bitter. I went for the Adnams but it was very tired and noting that everyone buying cask was on Martsons perhaps should have been a hint to what would have been a better choice. Sat by the fire we got chatting to Len who used to work at Rolls Royce, whilst surveying the unchanging scene in the tiny bar. I seem to get out to the Duke of York less and less now, which is a real shame, because this is a fantastic unspoilt country pub on the National Inventory of unspoilt pub interiors.
All too soon we had to leave and got back to Dronfield by 22.30, Barraharri dropping me at the Coach and horses whilst he went to park the car. We had a few pints in here, mainly Jaipur and Lord Marples, although I did also have a rather enjoyable bottle of Urthel Saisonnaire, before we got a couple of pints (or more?) of Jaipur to take away, and enjoyed them at Barraharri's with homemade burgers.
The moral of this story is clearly, never go on a Friday! But had we been stopping over at Earl Sterndale we would have got to more pubs such as the redoubtable Quiet Woman, and perhaps Waterfall and Cauldon on the way home.
Either way this was a really enjoyable, if tiring and frustrating day out in fantastic countryside.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)