Good afternoon,
here are the details of the elsewheres on my yomp on Saturday, when we walked from Birchover to Bonsall (and not a metre further!).
The Miners Standard at Winster is a fine old 17th century pub selling 4 real ales,including, to my surprise, a beer I'd never heard of - Pentrich Revolution Best Bitter. I suppose it could be a house beer, but either way it was very nice and refreshing.
Mind you, if it hadn't taken me nearly 15 minutes to get served behind a blob of indecisive Mavis types ordering and reordering meals along with a shameless selection of fiddly drinks, I might have been slightly less thirsty, even despite having slogged it uphill to the pub. The bargain £2.40 price did go some way to offsetting the annoyance but the indecisive amnesiac in front of me could have looked round after 10 minutes hogging the bar to see if anyone was about to pass out - as indeed, could the landlord. Poor.
In Matlock Bath we went to the Temple Hotel, and discovered to our surprise that it was dead. I know its up a very steep hill (climbed up for he first time since we got a taxi from Bonsall) but there was only 2 other customers for the first 20 minutes, plus another who arrived as we and the other two were leaving. I hope this is a seasonal anomaly, because its a cracking pub. And it still sells the impeccable Blue Monkey BG Sips, which we both had a pint of.
Our next stop was a new one on us both. The Fishpond is the kind of place that has a judgeable cover. I have never felt remotely inclined to go in, but two separate people recommended it to me at the Barley Mow beer fest so we ventured in. There are three distinct areas, including an off shot room with restaurant looking seating, a comfortable lounge area at the end and some long tables near the bar. On which, are 8 handpumps selling amongst more super regional offerings, some interesting regional ales, including Blue Monkey BG Sips.
We were on halves in here so I had a blue Monkey Marmoset which was an easy drinking hoppy session ale, and Miss M had a half of Dancing Duck nice weather for ducks. Both were in good form, and it was good to see what is ostensibly a quite modern stylish venue not only selling real ale but also allowing dogs. This had been a recurring theme of the day.
Our penultimate stop of the crawl followed a tiring charge to Matlock after we narrowly missed the bus. Moca bar was having a beer festival, with up to 20 beers stillaged opposite the bar, and well priced snacks on sale to soak up the alcohol. Although we were really pushed for time I had time for half a Titanic Cappuccino stout, and an excellent Black Hole Super Nova, a brilliantly zesty pale ale with lots of well balanced hops.
Once in Derby, we headed for the Station and inevitably quaffed pints (well, I did) of the excellent Bass from the jug. I think I may have made a new convert of the gravity dispensed Bass in here.
When we finally arrived back in Sheffield we parted company, and I had a pint of the Ilkley Lotus IPA in the Sheffield Tap, which was exceptional. Sat in the brewery room, I watched whilst 2 couples sitting nearby played out a rather amusing game of "we'll go for the next one" as successive train options passed them by, and numerous pints of the Titanic Plum Porter passed their lips. Good humoured, happy and slightly drunk, this was a great example of the positive social side of drinking.
So its been a very, ahem, "busy" four days, but now I am in a position to relax, compose myself, and plan next week's outings in the death throes of winter.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Showing posts with label Temple Hotel Matlock Bath. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Temple Hotel Matlock Bath. Show all posts
Monday, 1 April 2013
Sunday, 5 February 2012
Wee Beefy's pub walk bites - Birchover to Matlock all over again.
Afternoon,
here are the details of my Birchover to Matlock Bath walk - snow reprise. Please accept my apologies for odd layout and potential funny formatted text - I copied a line from another website (with reference/link included) and it must have been some sort of shitty format which I then contrived to spread throughout my whole post. It has taken me 4 hours to remedy this nonsense. If anyone knows stuff about formats, PLEASE leave me a message!
Niddering
I was well aware this time that it would be chuffing freezing, and snow was predicted for about 18.00 so I was expecting things to get a bit tricky and a bit damp. I prepared by dusting off my huge bright coloured walking jacket and a hat, which it turned out was Chala's - luckily neither of us has a more massive heed than the other. Prior to setting off I had an even more ideal breakfast of Shepherds pie with curried red wine gravy - I assure you it tastes better than it sounds
I was meeting Christingpher who had also wrapped up against the biting chill and was looking forward to a bit of exercise and real ale. We got to Bakewell on time and headed out through Stanton In Peak via less frost than last time before starting our walk on the road to Stanton Lees. We then walked down into Barn Farm and out onto Clough Lane as before then up the hill to the Miners Standard in Winster.
14 Pints of Lead
Not our beer order but the rough equivalent of the amount of lead ore placed in the dish that was used to measure the miners standard. Here we were grateful for the roaring fire and some sensibly priced well kept real ale, I hadn't really fancied a Greedy King beer to start with but even the usually disappointing elsewhere brew that purported to be Ruddles County was on good form here, a tribute to the Cellarmanship at this pub, and sold at only £2.50 a pint.
Temple of Jupiter
We struggled up through the town past the white sprinkled cross and the church before setting off up Ember Lane towards Matlock Bath. As we got higher the snow, which is what it actually was by now, increased and in the mellee of avoiding taking the wrong path and in trying not to fall on my arse I led us down the wrong path, as I had done last time.
Joining the main steep path that we needed involved essentially sitting down and hand walking yourself on to the traverse below. Getting down here was even more difficult because it was basically irregular steps and loose stones and twigs, with a rough wall one on side to try and grab. As we came out on Upperwood Road at Matlock Bath, I looked up to the higher buildings to see the road coated in snow, yet as we were inching our way down to the gennel, a Chelsea tractor appeared on the brow. I have to say, I have nothing against a 4X4 if you need and know how to use it, and even to my untrained eye, the calm descent down the thin white road behind us seemed incredibly difficult, and carefully done.
By now Matlock was twinkling white in the grey haze of the gorge and it seemed like the only sensible option was to park ourselves somewhere warm and refreshing. Hence, we headed straight fr the Georgian fronted Temple Hotel. Once there we headed straight for the bar and as Blue Monkey BG Sips was on again it was no contest as to what we;d be having. We pulled up a chair at a table near the fire and settled down to a delicious and refreshing pint and a spot of sketching. I should point out that I only actually draw when I am out with Christingpher - he is in fact a portrait painter and illustrator, so he always has a sketch pad with him and a fine pen, which suits my slightly embryonic scribbling style.
Hence, in comparison to his work my output is very basic and odd, but a nice distraction that, depending on the absurdity of the image created, usually results in lengthy bouts pf laughter. This time, as you will, erm, potentially see further below, by my standards I got the pic about right. That's if you ignore his wonky left leg, and the fact that he seems to have been the recipient of some hardline Islamic justice...
We stopped for another pint in here and then I tried a half of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which wasn't quite how I remembered it but was a nice warming drink as the snow piled up outside. I didn't see much of Chris the bar this time, as he was out clearing snow off the path outside. All too soon we had to re wrap and join him in the cold, to start our descent to the A6.
Descent is fairly accurate since it is very steep and was covered in a silky white covering, but we made it to the main road unscathed. Traffic was slow and there was snow settling on much of the road, but we opted to concentrate on food, so got chips before walking up to the nearest bus stop. Here we managed to get a 6.1 into Matlock Station - the plan had been to catch the 17 into Chesterfield and then the train but a quick chat with the driver confirmed that the rather hilly 17 route was, as we half expected, not going to be running.
Station to Station
we managed to get a train to Derby though with no problem, ruined slightly by an abusive idiot who kept insisiting he was headed to Bradford, and then when asked by the conductor to stop swearing simply pretended he hadn't like a child, before getting aggressive again. Nobhead.
In Derby it was not clear how the weather would affect things so we headed straight to the Station for a pint of lovely fantastic Bass. It was quiet, likely due to a combination of weather and Derby playing tomorrow (or not as it turne out), so we had chance to talk to Dave and Dan, a Derby based Arsenal fan who I tried, despite his obvious levels of emotion, to persuade should support a more benevolent and magnanimous club where everyone was nice....
Two pints later and we stepped outside into heavy snow covering the roads and headed for the station where a train was just arriving. We got on OK and arrived back in Sheffield around 21.00. Just time for a last one then in the Sheffield Tap. I had a half of Thorndridge Black Hary and a pint of Marble Chocolate Stout.
The Black Harry was surprisingly sweet, I knew it was 3.9 which is why I thought it would be a nice foil to the meatier Marble chocolate but if anything it was like a weaker version of that beer but with malted milk. Not what I was expecting at all. The Marble was a fulsome, rich tasting chunky beer but again wasn't really what I had hoped for - there was a lttle too much end of a cup of hot chocolate going on, the malt was quite pally wih the chocolate so it was quite one dimensional, and there was not even a hint of bitterness, which might have taken some of the sweet edge off the brew. A rare duff offering form the usually reliable folk at Marble. Below is a pic of some folks drinking their beer in the Tap, for ease of reference.
By this time (around 22.00) all the bus services had been cancelled in light of the 1cm of snow and the fact that the main roads were clear. So thanks a fucking bunch to the slackdabs and panicking meddlers at First South Yorkshire and Stagecoach for leaving their passengers stranded in the City centre for no justifiable reason. If one part of a route is impassable, for instance in my case maybe the descent from Handsworth Top, don't cancel the whole service, continue running it to the nearest drivable point. Instead, I had to catch a tram with the last of my money to Woodburn Road and and walk along the clear bus route that the much lighter cars were easily able to drive along with no impediment.
Aimless and unprofessional bus companies aside, this was a challenging walk given the conditions but once again demonstrated that theer are a good range of real ales to be found in many Peak District pubs, everyone of which we visited was welcoming, friendly, sensibly priced and knowledgeable about keeping good beer.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
here are the details of my Birchover to Matlock Bath walk - snow reprise. Please accept my apologies for odd layout and potential funny formatted text - I copied a line from another website (with reference/link included) and it must have been some sort of shitty format which I then contrived to spread throughout my whole post. It has taken me 4 hours to remedy this nonsense. If anyone knows stuff about formats, PLEASE leave me a message!
Niddering
I was well aware this time that it would be chuffing freezing, and snow was predicted for about 18.00 so I was expecting things to get a bit tricky and a bit damp. I prepared by dusting off my huge bright coloured walking jacket and a hat, which it turned out was Chala's - luckily neither of us has a more massive heed than the other. Prior to setting off I had an even more ideal breakfast of Shepherds pie with curried red wine gravy - I assure you it tastes better than it sounds
I was meeting Christingpher who had also wrapped up against the biting chill and was looking forward to a bit of exercise and real ale. We got to Bakewell on time and headed out through Stanton In Peak via less frost than last time before starting our walk on the road to Stanton Lees. We then walked down into Barn Farm and out onto Clough Lane as before then up the hill to the Miners Standard in Winster.
14 Pints of Lead
Not our beer order but the rough equivalent of the amount of lead ore placed in the dish that was used to measure the miners standard. Here we were grateful for the roaring fire and some sensibly priced well kept real ale, I hadn't really fancied a Greedy King beer to start with but even the usually disappointing elsewhere brew that purported to be Ruddles County was on good form here, a tribute to the Cellarmanship at this pub, and sold at only £2.50 a pint.
Crucially I also found time to photograph the initials and date above the door. The letters EP, EP, FP have two meanings it seems. According to John Merrill in his Winster Walks article (website Winster Historical Walk) the meaning is thus : " EP, EP, FP stand for the names Edith Ella and Frank Prince. In recent times the initials have come to mean - Every person entering pays for a pint."
On the Geolocation website (Geolocation - Miners Standard the family name has changed to Parker, but the adage appears to be the same. The only mystery then, is where I came up with it being the first letters of the words of a line from a lead miners song. A shame, since me and Christingpher spent a goodly amount of time attributing a meaning to the capitals, along the lines of Every Piece, Every Pig For Prosperity. ( a pig is a measurement of lead, lest you should be confused...)
Bonsall Moor and the early flakes
Bonsall Moor and the early flakes
After stopping to admire the weather beaten pub sign and the lead house (and failing to find a suitable sounding line using the letters EP, EP and FP), we headed along Bonsall Lane and out over the moor heading towards a giant bank of white grey clouds. Remembering that it wasn't going to snow until after 15.00 at the very earliest we were confident this was no threat.
Before embarking across the moor we saw one of those quintessentially gruesome countryside sights that is not exactly charming, certainly bizarre, and not a little surprising. On a gate at the side of the road were tied two strings of dead moles, the string apparently pulled right through them. Close inspection of these thawing sleepy heads revealed they for the most part were still intact, but not why they were there, or how they had ended up being strung up.
I wondered if this was some sort of odd visual warning for mole incomers, or whether it was supposed to announce to passers by that the farmer was so practical and unemotional that if required, he could happily take out out a whole family of cute creatures. Either way it was a puzzling site on a cold windy road, that seemed to have no explanation. So just as we had mangled the lead miners song idea, we eventually came up with the perhaps somewhat kind interpretation, that the moles had simply died of cold in the sudden cold snap and had been hung out by the benevolent farmer as food for the many large birds that I have see swooping around the area. I can't say as am convinced of this altruism though....
Putting swinging mammal corpses to one side we strode out across the moor, only once getting a little lost as I took the first rather than second footpath right of Bonsall Moor Lane. We ended up on a farm track at the end of Able Lane and from there made our way down into the Dale, as sleat and then hard powdery white stuff started to fall. It was nearly 14.00. It wasn't meant to snow yet. Yet all we could see ahead were heavy white grey skies.
Before embarking across the moor we saw one of those quintessentially gruesome countryside sights that is not exactly charming, certainly bizarre, and not a little surprising. On a gate at the side of the road were tied two strings of dead moles, the string apparently pulled right through them. Close inspection of these thawing sleepy heads revealed they for the most part were still intact, but not why they were there, or how they had ended up being strung up.
I wondered if this was some sort of odd visual warning for mole incomers, or whether it was supposed to announce to passers by that the farmer was so practical and unemotional that if required, he could happily take out out a whole family of cute creatures. Either way it was a puzzling site on a cold windy road, that seemed to have no explanation. So just as we had mangled the lead miners song idea, we eventually came up with the perhaps somewhat kind interpretation, that the moles had simply died of cold in the sudden cold snap and had been hung out by the benevolent farmer as food for the many large birds that I have see swooping around the area. I can't say as am convinced of this altruism though....Putting swinging mammal corpses to one side we strode out across the moor, only once getting a little lost as I took the first rather than second footpath right of Bonsall Moor Lane. We ended up on a farm track at the end of Able Lane and from there made our way down into the Dale, as sleat and then hard powdery white stuff started to fall. It was nearly 14.00. It wasn't meant to snow yet. Yet all we could see ahead were heavy white grey skies.
Luckily we could repair to the warmth of the Barley Mow, which was rammed, not that this is difficult, and we had pints of Thornbridge Lord Marples for me and Whim Arbor Light for Christingpher - pumpclip on handpump, but drawn from the barrel round the back. To be honest, Christingpher's Whim Arbor Light was the pick of the beers by a stretch: the Marples was OK but not brilliant, and after we had finished these I had a half of the Arbor Light and Christingpher the Doctor Morton's Ancient Grease. The Whim clearly came out on top, being lovely and fresh and hoppy without being overpowering, and its ultimate easy-drinkingness was made all the easier by its low strength. We did dally briefly with the idea of a chip butty, but the food orders were mounting up, so we finished up, said our goodbyes to the Lanlady and set off in the now more significant accumulations of white powder.
Temple of Jupiter
We struggled up through the town past the white sprinkled cross and the church before setting off up Ember Lane towards Matlock Bath. As we got higher the snow, which is what it actually was by now, increased and in the mellee of avoiding taking the wrong path and in trying not to fall on my arse I led us down the wrong path, as I had done last time.
Joining the main steep path that we needed involved essentially sitting down and hand walking yourself on to the traverse below. Getting down here was even more difficult because it was basically irregular steps and loose stones and twigs, with a rough wall one on side to try and grab. As we came out on Upperwood Road at Matlock Bath, I looked up to the higher buildings to see the road coated in snow, yet as we were inching our way down to the gennel, a Chelsea tractor appeared on the brow. I have to say, I have nothing against a 4X4 if you need and know how to use it, and even to my untrained eye, the calm descent down the thin white road behind us seemed incredibly difficult, and carefully done.
By now Matlock was twinkling white in the grey haze of the gorge and it seemed like the only sensible option was to park ourselves somewhere warm and refreshing. Hence, we headed straight fr the Georgian fronted Temple Hotel. Once there we headed straight for the bar and as Blue Monkey BG Sips was on again it was no contest as to what we;d be having. We pulled up a chair at a table near the fire and settled down to a delicious and refreshing pint and a spot of sketching. I should point out that I only actually draw when I am out with Christingpher - he is in fact a portrait painter and illustrator, so he always has a sketch pad with him and a fine pen, which suits my slightly embryonic scribbling style.Hence, in comparison to his work my output is very basic and odd, but a nice distraction that, depending on the absurdity of the image created, usually results in lengthy bouts pf laughter. This time, as you will, erm, potentially see further below, by my standards I got the pic about right. That's if you ignore his wonky left leg, and the fact that he seems to have been the recipient of some hardline Islamic justice...
We stopped for another pint in here and then I tried a half of the Thornbridge Sequoia, which wasn't quite how I remembered it but was a nice warming drink as the snow piled up outside. I didn't see much of Chris the bar this time, as he was out clearing snow off the path outside. All too soon we had to re wrap and join him in the cold, to start our descent to the A6.Descent is fairly accurate since it is very steep and was covered in a silky white covering, but we made it to the main road unscathed. Traffic was slow and there was snow settling on much of the road, but we opted to concentrate on food, so got chips before walking up to the nearest bus stop. Here we managed to get a 6.1 into Matlock Station - the plan had been to catch the 17 into Chesterfield and then the train but a quick chat with the driver confirmed that the rather hilly 17 route was, as we half expected, not going to be running.
Station to Station
we managed to get a train to Derby though with no problem, ruined slightly by an abusive idiot who kept insisiting he was headed to Bradford, and then when asked by the conductor to stop swearing simply pretended he hadn't like a child, before getting aggressive again. Nobhead.
In Derby it was not clear how the weather would affect things so we headed straight to the Station for a pint of lovely fantastic Bass. It was quiet, likely due to a combination of weather and Derby playing tomorrow (or not as it turne out), so we had chance to talk to Dave and Dan, a Derby based Arsenal fan who I tried, despite his obvious levels of emotion, to persuade should support a more benevolent and magnanimous club where everyone was nice....
Two pints later and we stepped outside into heavy snow covering the roads and headed for the station where a train was just arriving. We got on OK and arrived back in Sheffield around 21.00. Just time for a last one then in the Sheffield Tap. I had a half of Thorndridge Black Hary and a pint of Marble Chocolate Stout.
The Black Harry was surprisingly sweet, I knew it was 3.9 which is why I thought it would be a nice foil to the meatier Marble chocolate but if anything it was like a weaker version of that beer but with malted milk. Not what I was expecting at all. The Marble was a fulsome, rich tasting chunky beer but again wasn't really what I had hoped for - there was a lttle too much end of a cup of hot chocolate going on, the malt was quite pally wih the chocolate so it was quite one dimensional, and there was not even a hint of bitterness, which might have taken some of the sweet edge off the brew. A rare duff offering form the usually reliable folk at Marble. Below is a pic of some folks drinking their beer in the Tap, for ease of reference.
By this time (around 22.00) all the bus services had been cancelled in light of the 1cm of snow and the fact that the main roads were clear. So thanks a fucking bunch to the slackdabs and panicking meddlers at First South Yorkshire and Stagecoach for leaving their passengers stranded in the City centre for no justifiable reason. If one part of a route is impassable, for instance in my case maybe the descent from Handsworth Top, don't cancel the whole service, continue running it to the nearest drivable point. Instead, I had to catch a tram with the last of my money to Woodburn Road and and walk along the clear bus route that the much lighter cars were easily able to drive along with no impediment.
Aimless and unprofessional bus companies aside, this was a challenging walk given the conditions but once again demonstrated that theer are a good range of real ales to be found in many Peak District pubs, everyone of which we visited was welcoming, friendly, sensibly priced and knowledgeable about keeping good beer.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
Sunday, 15 January 2012
Wee Beefy's 2012 Derbyshire Dales walk
Afternoon,
I am fully recovered now from my first yomp of the new year, when I walked from Birchover to Matlock Bath via Winster and Bonsall, trying some new and old pubs along the way.
The Bus to Beelzebub
With the above song in mind (Soul Coughing fans) I set out on a hellish trundle to my starting point. As usual I'd got up later than planned then fannied around for ages doing crap that I really ought to have done the night before like a sensible person. I even managed to rustle up some breakfast even though I had miplaced its ingredients - in the end I had a less than classic walkers prep of a bowl of shepherds pie....
The bus arrived on time and we quickly realised that hell was not its destination; instead it was hypothermia. One of the windows in the what looked like 1960's bus was wedged open. All the way to Bakewell we were blasted by icy cold wind. Great. Things didn't improve any in Bakewell either - I had to go for a coffee to get warm but finished it all too quickly, then had 25 minutes to fill in before the bus, which I spent walking round trying to warm up.
The 172 bus ride to Birchover is beautiful on a frosty sunny day like Saturday - as you wind up through Stanton in the Peak every house and wall is finely dusted with frosty icing sugar, and the fields were bathed in sunlight as we passed the edge of Stanton moor, with large swathes still white from the hard frost. I started in Birchover at Barn Farm and made my way across what would have been a muddy lake of a field normally, in low set bright sunshine, biting cold wind and crispy ground to Uppertown.
Uppertown is a bit of a weird title for part of the village which lies below Birchover - unless its meant to be part of Winster, in which case its still the lowest part. Clearly this is a countryside in-joke that I don't get. From here I followed Birchover lane then took the path past the cemetery to the road leading to the top of Winster, where most of the fields and fauna were still frozen. Looming up round the corner at the top was my first stop.
The Miners Standard, Winster
I'd never been in this pub so was quite pleased to find it open and to finally get in for a beer. There's an outside porch and then a sign above the door as you enter - some say the initials are the names of two locals who built the building, others that it stands for the words in a lead miners saying - either way, I can't be sure what it stands for and annoyingly, I forgot to write it down! If anyone knows the letters or their meaning please let me know.
Inside there is one room split into 2 areas with a passage heading out to the loos and presumably the back, although I had no desire to sit outside so didn't check. There is a real fire in the left hand side and a fireplace to the right might also have one. The long wooden bar sports three or four handpumps and I tried the Brakspears bitter - £2.25 is a damned decent price in Derbyshire these days and not to be sniffed at - better still the beer was very well kept and managed to retain a lot of flavour, considering its 3.4%.
The pub seemed to be full of locals but I know its popular with walkers, and the landlady regaled the occupants of the table across from me with a story from Facebook, which she could barely say whilst crying with laughter. She also used a phrase I hadn't heard before - when she was explaining to one of the regulars children what she was doing, she said "I'm mending the fire up" I can't say I've heard anyone say that before, so maybe its a local phrase. Although it could just be incorrect. Nevertheless, after enjoying the Facebook tale myself I decided to stop for another, and had a good pint of Pedigree, which I think was £2.60 a pint. This is a cracking pub all in all, hopefully one I'll get back to soon.
Bonsall Moor
From here I pressed on over Bonsall Moor. I was going to walk all the way to Upper Town in Bonsall on the road but it was such a beautiful day I decided to cross the moor by path instead. On the way up the first half mile or more of the road, I had to walk on the left, because the right was in shadow and was still covered in a slippery white hoare frost. The road is quiet, disturbed only by a handful of cars and a coal lorry, in fact the whole area is blissfully peaceful; and until you reach the edges of Bonsall a mile or two later, except for a clutch of farms, and a ruined building or two, there's nothing but stone walls and rugged Derbyshire moorland to see.
The path across the moor is a bit short on worded signposts after you leave the road, but I found my way past numerous crossroads and junctions despite having forgotten to bring the half of my decimated White Peak map for this part of the walk. The route is diagonal and crosses many fields with squeeze stiles to negotiate - luckily the walls are low so I could swing my legs over, ottherwise I would never have made it. All of the fields traversed were edged with frosty white, and some had long sparkling fingers of cold placed across them, even at about half one in the afternoon.
The Barley Mow
The path comes out on a lane at Uppertown and leads to the bus stop - I mention it only because the bus route seems so incongruous, winding up through the narrow streets and out up towards Bonsall moor then along the back of the highest part of the village and turning round in a space that suggests it needs a good 4 goes to get round. I then followed Bankside down to The Dale - a sign at the top warns the road is unsuitable for HGV's - hopefully the pic right will demonstrate why.
As I walked down the road to the pub I noticed again that one whole side of the steep sided dale was still blanketed in white powder, although someone had hung their washing out, presumably in anticpation of the sun reaching it sometimne around March. Please note, the far wall in the picture is in fact the garden of the house and is therefore the edge of the road as it turns left at the absurd hairpin bend.
The Barley Mow is a small long buildng the back of which is carved out of rock, and has a single room with plentiful seating and a range at one end and the bar and kitchen at the other. The toilets are outside, and the front has just enough sepace for some people to sit outside. Remember to take the door on the left though - the one as you climb up the steps leads to the kitchen. I used to come to the Mow a lot but haven't been for a while now, a fact demonstrated by the fact that the new owners had been there more than 3 years.
When the previous landlord and owners had it there were two real ales on, Hartington Bitter and Greedy King Abbot. Now the beer range has changed considerably, with all 4 handpumps in use. I started with a pint of the Blue Monkey Original, a 3.6% beer packing as much hoppy flavour in as a lesser 4.5% brew. Despite this beer being my third of the day, I didn't allow myself to be tempted by the homemade food which smelt lovely, as I had a pile of unappetising squashed sandwiches to enjoy later.
All too soon my beer had mysteriously disappeared and I had to go back for another couple of halves - I had the Otley Columbo pale, and the stronger Whim Snow White Weiss, at 5.0%. The Otley was as expected, lovely citrus hops and sweetish malt but inevitably slightly cloudy. The Whim was cloudy intentionally and was a really nice beer even though it failed to taste like a wheat beer at all. All beers were £2.90 to £3.00 a pint.
Every year, the Barley Mow claims to be the centre of UK hen racing - apparrently hens have been known to complete the race, but usually just sit down, walk in circles or peck through the gravel in the car park looking for worms....
Temple Hotel bar
All too soon I had to drag myself away and head down the semi frozen dale and over the hill to Matlock Bath. It was only about 3PM but it was cold once again, althoiug I was at least warming up as I toiled up through the village, bypassing the closed Kings Head (I think they keep quite strict lunchtime hours) and heading up to the church and then following the steep winding ember lane to the woods behind Matlock Bath.
Having climbed up so high I then had to precariously climb down a very slippy muddy steep path at the edge of the woods to bring myself out at the Upperwood area of Matlock Bath. As directed by a local dogwalker, I was to walk down between two houses and at the entrance to Gullivers Kingdon I would see on my right what he called a plane. I knew what he meant as soon as I saw it - its an interesting word for a ginnel or snicket but I suppose its loosely based on an inclined plane, which they used to send small trucks loaded with coal or rocks down on a pulley.
Soon I was overlooking the Bath with the Temple Hotel on my right. As you enter the bar is immediately on your right - I point this out because I didn't notice it at all at first, in fact am not even sure there is a sign. Inside is an L shaped room (or it maybe continues past the left hand end of the bar) with ample seating and a long bar sporting 5 handpumps, all in use. I had a fantastic pint of Blue Monkey Evolution, which was £2.90a pint, and there were plentty of other options available, an Oakham Scarlet Macaw, Abbeydale Dr Morton's Snake Oil, Full Mash Spiritualist and a real cider, which is on a gas assisted pump.
I soon got chatting to Chris, who runs the bar, about the beers he has on and his and his customers favourite brews. I mentioned my love of Blue Monkey, and he advised me that BG sips my favourite of their beers was on next, indeed the Oakham died a death so I ended up trying that as well. In between times, having finished my pint of Evolution, I had a pint of the Dr Morton's snake oil. Far better than my recent Abbedydale experiences this was a really tasty, bitter golden beer.
It turns out Chris used to live in Sheffield and visit the Archer Road Beer Stop so we agreed we have probably met before, and whilst propping up the bar (but crucially, not being in the way) I also got into a chat with a couple from Nottingham who had been to a gig in a sheffield pub and loved it. Alas, they couldn't recall the name, its location or the identity of the band, but it did have a bar on the left. After much guesswork a friend was called and we found out it was the Broadfield - which explained why I didn't recognise the description, since there isn't a right hand room anymore.
The other thing I noticed, apart from the fact that I was there for nearly 2 hours which is much longer than I had planned on, was that almost every beer drinker who arrived remarked on there being Blue Monkey beers available - it seems that many people share my love of this brewery's output, and Chris confirms this is one of his big sellers. Trade was brisk whilst I was there with a mixture of guests and other visitors, and I was impressed to see that it seems highly regarded - overall though the most impressive aspect was the dedication to quality shown regarding the beer. I wasn't allowed to taste the Oakham offering by Chris until he had, because he thought it was pulling light and running out. He confirmed it was tired, which when I tried it was, and then took it off. All the beer was in tip top xconditin and it was an interesting range as well. This is another pub I hope I can get back to soon.
Princess Victoria
From here I had to find my way down to the A6. A couple of locals suggested I walk down the alleyway that would bring me out near where the pub was - I didn't find an alley I fancied however and did the trip on the road (although I found the alley at the bottom?). I was soon at the bar in the Princess Victoria perusing the choices. I haven't been in since it was a Batemans house selling guests, and its now owned by Ashover Brewery. The Batemans XXXB was still available, and thats what I had a pint of. The only Ashover offering was their Light Rale which I don't rate, and nothing else caught my eye at all hence my enjoyably conservative choice.
I have probably only been in about 4 times and for some reason I never seem to be able to get on with it. I like the way it looks, I like the food, I like its quirky design, but for reasons unknown I never want to spend long in there, and the disappointing beer range put me off persevering. Perhaps an early crawl stop might alay some of my misgivings.
Midland and County and Station
I now knew that I wasn't going to make the Plough at Two Dales, so that still remains one of my "target" pubs to visit. Instead I went and grabbed some chips from a chippy down the "seafront" and went back out into the freezing cold to eat them quickly. I now had an hour to fill in before my bus so ventured into the Midland. They served 4 real ales, Farmers Blonde, Peak Ales Swift Nick, Bakewell Best and their seasonal Noggin Filler which I had a half of.
This was a comfy enough quite large pub, with a mix of tourists and locals, and was, thankfully, quite warm, which was a merciful relief I can assure you. The guy behind the bar seemed quite loud but the atmosphere was congenial and had I had more time, money, and had drunk less earlier, I think I may have stopped for a pint of what was a very nice Peak Ales winter brew. I think a longer visit next time is required to sample some more of their range. The picture on the right is the bar in the Midland.
Alas I hadn't really spent long enough in there so to avoid dying of exposure I nipped in the County and Station across the road. There was Pedigree and Jennings Cumberland on the bar so I went for a half of that by way of a change. It was tired, one dimesional and a little warm, a pale imitation of what can be a good drink. The pub itself is OK, but a little odd, a transient unpreposessing venue comprised of a collection of unfulfilled ideas.
Whilst you had some quite traditional pub decor and dark wood fittings, there was also a pool table in a boistrous back room, the inevitable imposing Sky TV Screens, and a restaurant, prominently advertised, on the right. It was bit cold, and a single couple sat in there eating pub fare. I'm glad it stocked some real ale but I can't see me rushing back to visit again.
By now it was too near to the time of the bus to squeeze in another pub visit and find the bus stop, so to keep warm I walked towards Matlock, stopping to check the time at each stop, which wasn't many since they are spaced well apart, and looking out for another pub where I might quickly nip in to use the facilities. With 10 minutes to go I arrived at a bus stop outside some toiletsa (actually open!) so I was ready now to settle down to the ball ache which was the journey via half of the Derbyshire Dales to Belper and then onto Derby.
The Best Bass you'll ever taste
I got into Derby at about quarter past 9 an hour or so before my train and got a bus round to the train station, then ran round to the Station Inn on Midland Road (where else?) The door was open for a change, which is very unusual for a Saturday night when Derby have been playing, and was quite crowded with sound barrier threatening footy fans. I got to the bar and was welcomed warmly by Dave, who correctly but not entirely difficultly predicted my order would be a pint of Bass from the jug. I could then retire to my seat behind a wall of wannabe footbal managers and refereeing experts to quietly enjoy one of the finest pints of ale in the UK.
I even had chance to enjoy a further pint of the glorious tasty Bass whilst there, before I had regrettably, to leave the pub and head back to the station. Here, my train was delayed so to fill in some time I popped in the Noahs Ark, to find painfully bright lights, an argument in the doorway and no real ale, so I returned to the station. In the end, the train was over an hour late and I was back in Sheffield at gone midnight.
Late 1854
With a thirst still to quench after 2 hours waiting or travelling I decided I had limited options for decent beer at this time. Despite my blog promise in my last post to start going to Harrisons early on I hot footed it up town and got there in time to have a pint of that wonderful Deception that I had the other night, and also had chance to catch up briefly with Barraharri whilst I supped it. This was a nice way to end the evening, sate of thirst, tired of legs, cold of frame but happy nonetheless.
Overall I had a really enjoyable day out and visited some truly excellent pubs, drank some fantastic beer and saw some stunning scenery, and not even the rank incompetence of the train companies ("the train is currently limping into Leicester") could put a downer on my fantastic first walk of 2012.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
I am fully recovered now from my first yomp of the new year, when I walked from Birchover to Matlock Bath via Winster and Bonsall, trying some new and old pubs along the way.
The Bus to Beelzebub
With the above song in mind (Soul Coughing fans) I set out on a hellish trundle to my starting point. As usual I'd got up later than planned then fannied around for ages doing crap that I really ought to have done the night before like a sensible person. I even managed to rustle up some breakfast even though I had miplaced its ingredients - in the end I had a less than classic walkers prep of a bowl of shepherds pie....
The bus arrived on time and we quickly realised that hell was not its destination; instead it was hypothermia. One of the windows in the what looked like 1960's bus was wedged open. All the way to Bakewell we were blasted by icy cold wind. Great. Things didn't improve any in Bakewell either - I had to go for a coffee to get warm but finished it all too quickly, then had 25 minutes to fill in before the bus, which I spent walking round trying to warm up.
The 172 bus ride to Birchover is beautiful on a frosty sunny day like Saturday - as you wind up through Stanton in the Peak every house and wall is finely dusted with frosty icing sugar, and the fields were bathed in sunlight as we passed the edge of Stanton moor, with large swathes still white from the hard frost. I started in Birchover at Barn Farm and made my way across what would have been a muddy lake of a field normally, in low set bright sunshine, biting cold wind and crispy ground to Uppertown.
Uppertown is a bit of a weird title for part of the village which lies below Birchover - unless its meant to be part of Winster, in which case its still the lowest part. Clearly this is a countryside in-joke that I don't get. From here I followed Birchover lane then took the path past the cemetery to the road leading to the top of Winster, where most of the fields and fauna were still frozen. Looming up round the corner at the top was my first stop.
The Miners Standard, Winster
I'd never been in this pub so was quite pleased to find it open and to finally get in for a beer. There's an outside porch and then a sign above the door as you enter - some say the initials are the names of two locals who built the building, others that it stands for the words in a lead miners saying - either way, I can't be sure what it stands for and annoyingly, I forgot to write it down! If anyone knows the letters or their meaning please let me know.
Inside there is one room split into 2 areas with a passage heading out to the loos and presumably the back, although I had no desire to sit outside so didn't check. There is a real fire in the left hand side and a fireplace to the right might also have one. The long wooden bar sports three or four handpumps and I tried the Brakspears bitter - £2.25 is a damned decent price in Derbyshire these days and not to be sniffed at - better still the beer was very well kept and managed to retain a lot of flavour, considering its 3.4%.
The pub seemed to be full of locals but I know its popular with walkers, and the landlady regaled the occupants of the table across from me with a story from Facebook, which she could barely say whilst crying with laughter. She also used a phrase I hadn't heard before - when she was explaining to one of the regulars children what she was doing, she said "I'm mending the fire up" I can't say I've heard anyone say that before, so maybe its a local phrase. Although it could just be incorrect. Nevertheless, after enjoying the Facebook tale myself I decided to stop for another, and had a good pint of Pedigree, which I think was £2.60 a pint. This is a cracking pub all in all, hopefully one I'll get back to soon.
Bonsall Moor
From here I pressed on over Bonsall Moor. I was going to walk all the way to Upper Town in Bonsall on the road but it was such a beautiful day I decided to cross the moor by path instead. On the way up the first half mile or more of the road, I had to walk on the left, because the right was in shadow and was still covered in a slippery white hoare frost. The road is quiet, disturbed only by a handful of cars and a coal lorry, in fact the whole area is blissfully peaceful; and until you reach the edges of Bonsall a mile or two later, except for a clutch of farms, and a ruined building or two, there's nothing but stone walls and rugged Derbyshire moorland to see.
The Barley Mow
The path comes out on a lane at Uppertown and leads to the bus stop - I mention it only because the bus route seems so incongruous, winding up through the narrow streets and out up towards Bonsall moor then along the back of the highest part of the village and turning round in a space that suggests it needs a good 4 goes to get round. I then followed Bankside down to The Dale - a sign at the top warns the road is unsuitable for HGV's - hopefully the pic right will demonstrate why.
As I walked down the road to the pub I noticed again that one whole side of the steep sided dale was still blanketed in white powder, although someone had hung their washing out, presumably in anticpation of the sun reaching it sometimne around March. Please note, the far wall in the picture is in fact the garden of the house and is therefore the edge of the road as it turns left at the absurd hairpin bend.When the previous landlord and owners had it there were two real ales on, Hartington Bitter and Greedy King Abbot. Now the beer range has changed considerably, with all 4 handpumps in use. I started with a pint of the Blue Monkey Original, a 3.6% beer packing as much hoppy flavour in as a lesser 4.5% brew. Despite this beer being my third of the day, I didn't allow myself to be tempted by the homemade food which smelt lovely, as I had a pile of unappetising squashed sandwiches to enjoy later.
All too soon my beer had mysteriously disappeared and I had to go back for another couple of halves - I had the Otley Columbo pale, and the stronger Whim Snow White Weiss, at 5.0%. The Otley was as expected, lovely citrus hops and sweetish malt but inevitably slightly cloudy. The Whim was cloudy intentionally and was a really nice beer even though it failed to taste like a wheat beer at all. All beers were £2.90 to £3.00 a pint.
Every year, the Barley Mow claims to be the centre of UK hen racing - apparrently hens have been known to complete the race, but usually just sit down, walk in circles or peck through the gravel in the car park looking for worms....
Temple Hotel bar
All too soon I had to drag myself away and head down the semi frozen dale and over the hill to Matlock Bath. It was only about 3PM but it was cold once again, althoiug I was at least warming up as I toiled up through the village, bypassing the closed Kings Head (I think they keep quite strict lunchtime hours) and heading up to the church and then following the steep winding ember lane to the woods behind Matlock Bath.
Soon I was overlooking the Bath with the Temple Hotel on my right. As you enter the bar is immediately on your right - I point this out because I didn't notice it at all at first, in fact am not even sure there is a sign. Inside is an L shaped room (or it maybe continues past the left hand end of the bar) with ample seating and a long bar sporting 5 handpumps, all in use. I had a fantastic pint of Blue Monkey Evolution, which was £2.90a pint, and there were plentty of other options available, an Oakham Scarlet Macaw, Abbeydale Dr Morton's Snake Oil, Full Mash Spiritualist and a real cider, which is on a gas assisted pump.
It turns out Chris used to live in Sheffield and visit the Archer Road Beer Stop so we agreed we have probably met before, and whilst propping up the bar (but crucially, not being in the way) I also got into a chat with a couple from Nottingham who had been to a gig in a sheffield pub and loved it. Alas, they couldn't recall the name, its location or the identity of the band, but it did have a bar on the left. After much guesswork a friend was called and we found out it was the Broadfield - which explained why I didn't recognise the description, since there isn't a right hand room anymore.
Princess Victoria
From here I had to find my way down to the A6. A couple of locals suggested I walk down the alleyway that would bring me out near where the pub was - I didn't find an alley I fancied however and did the trip on the road (although I found the alley at the bottom?). I was soon at the bar in the Princess Victoria perusing the choices. I haven't been in since it was a Batemans house selling guests, and its now owned by Ashover Brewery. The Batemans XXXB was still available, and thats what I had a pint of. The only Ashover offering was their Light Rale which I don't rate, and nothing else caught my eye at all hence my enjoyably conservative choice.
Midland and County and Station
I now knew that I wasn't going to make the Plough at Two Dales, so that still remains one of my "target" pubs to visit. Instead I went and grabbed some chips from a chippy down the "seafront" and went back out into the freezing cold to eat them quickly. I now had an hour to fill in before my bus so ventured into the Midland. They served 4 real ales, Farmers Blonde, Peak Ales Swift Nick, Bakewell Best and their seasonal Noggin Filler which I had a half of.
Alas I hadn't really spent long enough in there so to avoid dying of exposure I nipped in the County and Station across the road. There was Pedigree and Jennings Cumberland on the bar so I went for a half of that by way of a change. It was tired, one dimesional and a little warm, a pale imitation of what can be a good drink. The pub itself is OK, but a little odd, a transient unpreposessing venue comprised of a collection of unfulfilled ideas.
Whilst you had some quite traditional pub decor and dark wood fittings, there was also a pool table in a boistrous back room, the inevitable imposing Sky TV Screens, and a restaurant, prominently advertised, on the right. It was bit cold, and a single couple sat in there eating pub fare. I'm glad it stocked some real ale but I can't see me rushing back to visit again.
By now it was too near to the time of the bus to squeeze in another pub visit and find the bus stop, so to keep warm I walked towards Matlock, stopping to check the time at each stop, which wasn't many since they are spaced well apart, and looking out for another pub where I might quickly nip in to use the facilities. With 10 minutes to go I arrived at a bus stop outside some toiletsa (actually open!) so I was ready now to settle down to the ball ache which was the journey via half of the Derbyshire Dales to Belper and then onto Derby.
The Best Bass you'll ever taste
I got into Derby at about quarter past 9 an hour or so before my train and got a bus round to the train station, then ran round to the Station Inn on Midland Road (where else?) The door was open for a change, which is very unusual for a Saturday night when Derby have been playing, and was quite crowded with sound barrier threatening footy fans. I got to the bar and was welcomed warmly by Dave, who correctly but not entirely difficultly predicted my order would be a pint of Bass from the jug. I could then retire to my seat behind a wall of wannabe footbal managers and refereeing experts to quietly enjoy one of the finest pints of ale in the UK.
Late 1854
With a thirst still to quench after 2 hours waiting or travelling I decided I had limited options for decent beer at this time. Despite my blog promise in my last post to start going to Harrisons early on I hot footed it up town and got there in time to have a pint of that wonderful Deception that I had the other night, and also had chance to catch up briefly with Barraharri whilst I supped it. This was a nice way to end the evening, sate of thirst, tired of legs, cold of frame but happy nonetheless.
Overall I had a really enjoyable day out and visited some truly excellent pubs, drank some fantastic beer and saw some stunning scenery, and not even the rank incompetence of the train companies ("the train is currently limping into Leicester") could put a downer on my fantastic first walk of 2012.
Cheers!
Wee Beefy
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