Derbyshire, Cheshire and a touch of Staffordshire.....

 Evening all!

         on Sunday I was collected by my great friend Mr G for our next crawl around the best pubs in Derbyshire (and beyond). Having failed last time to adequately check out the George ta Alstonefield (lost to food and no beer) I was determined to get this right. I googled the Crag Inn at Wildboarclough and found that it had doubled up as still a pub but mainly as a water bar - having found a spring on the property. According to Whatpub it was still a pub and served two real ales. I decided to go.

After an hour and twenty minutes we arrived in the glen like Wildboarclough and turned into the Crag Inn car park. We spotted folks sat outside with beers so assumed everything was fine - and got in and found they no longer sell drauught beer, or any other draught drinks. They did however sell bottles from Nearby Wincle brewery, although, not from the fridge, and we sat down with a bottle each of Wandering Wallaby and chatted. Whilst there about 20 people came in asked what they sold on draught - qall were told the answer was none. Having passed through a room end and corrridor of bottled water I visited the loo - finding handwash but only a single wet towel to dry my hands on. Whilst Mr G went to the same I asked the guy behind the lit, blue bar, what the deal was re it being a pub - he said they hadn't been a pub for two years, and now no longer sold real ale. Sound familiar?

Back in the car I recalled this to Mr G and he said - we could have paid £15 each for a mineral water e3xperience. But who would?

Driving into Wincle we lost connection to the Sat Nav and for some reason my phone so we asked a couple sat outside the Ship if they knew where Wincle Brewery was - luckily it was just down the road on the right in Danebridge! Soon there they had a tasting room selling a large number of bottles and three handpulled beers - I went on a pint of Wincle Hen Cloud andf a half of Straight Furrowand Mr G a half of Hen Cloud and we basked in the sunshine outside. An excellent stop.

Next we drove into Macclesfield and quickly found and parked accross from the excellent Red Willow Tap. Three real ales and about 14 kegs saw Mr G on alcohol free lager and myself on a pint of their 6.7% IPA! lovely place, and selling excellent Black pudding and mustard crisps, after a half of the sadly disappointing  Kernel Porter, we used Mr G's phone to walk up to the Park Tavern on Park Road about 5 minutes away.

This is a pub ran by Bollington Breweryu and they had about 8 of their beers on, including on Keg. I went for a pint of their Eastern nights with Mr G on a soft drink before heading back to the car. One thing I will say about the Park Tavern is that it was drearily dark sinside - yet on the way out down a passage behind the bar there was a lovely, bright - yet empty - room, at the front.

Our last stop was the pub of the night - the excellent Three Stags Heads at Wardlow Mires. First visit for may years and sadly I was unable to see Pat after the sad passing of Geoff on Good Friday. The range is similar but two Abbeydale and two guests - I started on the Black Lurcher (obvs) and Mr G a half of Deception. Was absolutely fabulous to catch up with former Barman/or/Landlord Robin, whom I had a good chat with!

Just one note btw - as I always remember - the pub is cash only - just for info!

Mr G dropped me in town and I got a tram to the Welly for a pint of Kernel and then went to Tesco for scran and ended up in Shakespeares, where I saw the lovely Abbeydale couple of Jim and Laura.

Anoother fabulous and enjoyable day out with my mate.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy

The Wee men celebrate Christmas

Hello,

    before me and Wee Fatha buggered off round half of Cheshire on Saturday (its worth pointing out at this late stage that I had to dissuade him from heading to Chester for the last few pubs!) we joined Wee Keefy for the annual spectacle of our Christmas meal, always, unfailingly, held in a pub, and featuring plenty of beer. Just like a Christmas meal should.

Previous years have found us at the Crispin in Ashover, the Butchers at Marsh Lane and the Old Poets Corner, also in Ashover. This year it was the turn of the Packhorse Inn at Crowdecote, on the Staffordshire/Derbyshire border.

Nestling in beautiful Dovedale on a bend in the road its an idyllic place to pop in for a pint or a bite to eat, which makes it all the more surprising that its taken so damned long for the place to gain plaudits, and to put decent real ales on the bar. Luckily our new found hobby of visiting the Royal Cottage means we are regularly in the area seeking refreshment, so we decided to make this the venue for the admittedly very early Christmas meal for the menfolk of the clan.

Being a beer blog of course irrelevances such as food aren't really high up on the reprting agenda. Which is ironic because, as it turned out, despite my excited anticipation and Fatha and Keefy enjoying theirs my meal was really disappointing. That said, its cost was taken off the bill without fuss, and apologies forthcoming without question. Its a shame I didn't enjoy my food so much, but I appreciated the pubs approach to sorting the matter out, and better still the beer. Of which we had plenty.

Wee Keefy likes a malty slightly sweet pint as we know, and was smitten with the Cottage, erm, something with an "e" in it. The letter E that is. Meanwhile driver Wee Fatha was on a half or two of the pleasant Titanic Night to Remember. And drinking for two (for WF, am not pregnant) I dispensed with many pints of the fearsomely excellent Bottlebrook Mellow Yellow. Which, I only noticed on getting home, was 5.7%....

Bottlebrook is a brewery I don't come across too often and I have only previously encountered their offerings at beer festivals - which is maybe why I don't usually rate them. This offering overturned that opinion in some style. Meanwhile, Tetley made up the range along with a real cider so there was something for everyone, unless you wanted a stout or porter I suppose. In short the quality of this line up more than matched that which we found on our last visit, and will hope to find on our next.

A real bonus is that the pub is very handily situated nearly opposite a lane that runs into Earl Sterndale, so it seemed churlish not to pop up the hill for a pint or two at the Quiet Woman. Parking on a lake of ice outside we somehow contrived to avoid falling on our arses en route inside, where we got chatting to Ken and the regulars. Sat by the fire, we enjoyed supping Jennings Dark Mild (for WF and WK), and a pint and a half of the very enjoyable and quaffable Wincle Brewery Rambler for me.

I also got to take home an excellent Quiet Woman pork pie for Saturday's exploring, which I am pleased to report came in very handy, as did mixed packs of the Quiet Woman themed bottles that the other two purchased. One surprising note though was that the Quiet Woman is now selling guests from Pins. I can't be certain, but I reckon they must have had a decent throughput in the past (Mansfield Mild (?), Marstons Bitter, Pedigree and Old Rodger being sold on my first visit in 1994) and despite it being dreadful weather, it seemed quiet enough to make buying in pins sound like a necessity.

I don't think for a moment that this classic old pub is teetering on the brink, but it was sobering to consider how much trade seems to have declined. All the more reason to venture out more often then...

So, thus passed an enjoyable annual event featuring great company and fantastic beers on the edge of the Staffordshire Moorlands. Which I'm happy to report is becoming a bit of a habit these days.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy.   

Changing face or surprising trend?

Morning

     I was out with Wee Fatha and Wee keefy and Jambon last night for a trip to the redoubtable Royal Cottage, and another pub in the area. It was interesting to note that the Royal Cottage, probably one of the most traditional rural pubs in a 100 mile radius survives, in spite of its restricted opening hours and isolation. On the other hand though, other pubs in the area appear to be falling by the way side at an alarming rate. Is there a defining factor?

Last night was the trip to help find out, but we  were a bit late picking Wee Keefy and Jambon up as the Friday night Wednesday Leeds game was generating lots of traffic. Despite telling W.F this, he stuck to his desired route - and got stuck in traffic, whilst commenting that football always used to only be played on a Saturday, without extrapolating how that meant it shouldn't be played on a Friday. Once heading off with our full quota, Wee Keefy advised a Manchester Road escape, which was also ignored, leading us to another mire of traffic on Ecclesall Road. Hmm...

Eventually reaching the Royal Cottage, the light was already on and the door unlocked, and when we got in, and Jessie the Rottweiler finally realised that she was supposed to scare us off, i.e try and lick us all to death (especially tastily named Jambon), it was clear that Cliff's mate wasn't in either. This seems like such an insignificant thing, but as a semi regular visitor I can assure you that, quite simply, nothing changes here. Not at all.

Bottled delights in hand we sat down facing the bar end with Cliff in his favoured chair for a long chat, including finding out that having said nothing changes, the pub had in fact previously been called the Moorcock Inn. I couldn't find out when the change happened since Cliff and W.F and the others were busy nailing the date of Bonnie Prince charlie's retreat from Derby, which was amusingly implied by Cliff as the time the name changed, whilst the Scots were camped on Bareleg Hill nearby. Alas no-one asked W.F if he remembered.

Another round of drinks followed, me and Jambon on original strength bottled Old Speckled Hen, Keefy on Newky and W.F on tomato juice. As a professor of reminiscence W.F, and Cliff could probably, given the chance, talk for a whole day about all things transport, 1950's and changing times. Despite an unfortunate emphasis on motoring issues, I was just happy to sit, albeit slowly cooking by the fire, watching the natural conversation ebb and flow in front of my eyes.

All too soon we had to be off, which as per last time coincided with the arrival of Sam who probably comes in every Friday night. Jessie seemed to know he was there before he came in and got up to welcome him before any of us heard the door. We bade our farewell safe in the knowledge that whilst ever the pub remains open this scene will repeat itself unsullied for years to come.

Heading back through Longnor next we thought we saw life in the Crewe and Harpur Arms, and the Horseshoes is now closed, but we were heading for the new hub of real ale that is the Packhorse at Crowdecote. Its ten tears or more since I last visited with Wee Keefy, the 1980's since W.F popped in and a frst visit for Jambon. Whilst nothing has changed in the layout which is a long thin pub with an offshoot at the side of the entrance, one major change here is the bar.

Now sporting 5 handpumps, one for real cider, and almost all selling local or nearby brewery ales, this was a welcome relief, but not exactly a surprise since hearing of its renaissance I had looked at their website and knew broadly what to expect. The sites emphasis on food was not the catalyst for marginalised drinking, even though it was late when we arrived there was plenty of space to sit and drink and the owner Mick encouraged us to sit wherever we wanted. None of this "oh, you can't sit here I'm afraid, this is a dining table" malarkey. Just sit down and sup your beer. I may have to test this theory at peak food times admittedly...

On the bar was a choice of Kelham Island Best Bitter, Church End Lock Stock and Barrel, Nook Brewhouse Red Ale and the excellent Wincle Brewery Life of Riley. Keefy had the Nook, me and W.F the Riley and Jambon the surprisingly hoppy Church End. All the real ales are £3.10 a pint which I don't think is a bad price and the Church End and Wincle ale was brilliantly well kept and fantastically tasty.

The Nook Red was a little less well rounded and seemed to give up being a nice beer half way through, so that was taken off, but reducing the range slightly hardly ruined the excellent choice, and by the time Jambon had moved onto Bunnahabhain whisky it was clear that this was going to be an enjoyable closing session.

It was here, and along with information gained frm the Internet earlier this week, that I learnt the fate of Longnor's pubs and some of the others in the Staffordshire Moorlands Area.

The Crewe and Harpur, a large once traditional Marstons pub, changed hands about 8 years ago and became a destination food pub with  a range of real ales. At the time, though it was regrettable that it was deemed impossible to continue on a traditional course, the bright side was the range of real ales not usually available in Longnor. It has now closed, and is rented out as a holiday home (still with bar in situ it seems).

whats interesting is, this is an idea already made reality at the redoubtable Mermaid Inn, a listed building high on the Staffordshire Moorlands near the Royal Cottage. It had been a bit shakey in recent years and shortly before its closure, and on my last visit in 2008 it was a food pub doing one or two real ales. W.F suggested it had branched out into luxury accommodation and that too has now become a holiday home - sleeping 36. Necessary work appears to have been done and the interior looks stunning, and once again the bar is in situ but not in use. Its a sumptuous venue, but a crying shame its not still a pub.

Meanwhile down the road the Rock Inn at Upper Hulme forges a traditional path, still with a food emphasis but now stocking 3 real ales, one of which is local - Wincle Brewery's website states that they supply the beer, so that's a good sign. I haven't managed to get since the Wincle ale appeared so that would be my next plan when we are out that way.

Meanwhile, and finally, the Quiet Woman continues to attract customers by being unbendingly traditional, and in Longnor, the Horseshoes has finally closed, the Grapes has been shut for something near 5 years leaving only the very traditional previously never seemingly open Cheshire Cheese as the market village's only pub.

Its interesting to consider then that, the more traditional, almost exclusively real ale purveying country pubs are in fact doing well, whilst the ones that ditched that core traditional outlook have succumbed to conversion to other uses or simply closed down (not that either the Horseshoes or Grapes were particularly non-traditional).

Its heartening to see the traditional pubs hanging on and in the case of The Packhorse, thriving, but I wonder how many more large struggling isolated country pubs will be seen as tempting accommodation cash cows and suffer the same fate as the Mermaid? That two such pubs in close proximity (and apparently the owners are connected, if only by knowing each other) is almost a trend, and given the hard times in the pub industry I can see no reason why it won't continue to happen.

Thank God we can still visit the Royal Cottage and forget about post 1950's horrors, then nip to a quality real ale pub nearby to sate our drinking needs.

Cheers!

Wee Beefy   

Friday night in North Staffordshire

Afternoon,

     after me and Barraharri's failed camping expedition saw us miss the Quiet Woman, and after Cliff at the Royal Cottage mentioned that he'd not seen my Dad for a while, a chance conversation with Wee Keefy and Wee Fatha resulted in a plan to head out into the dark brooding landscape of the moorland border between Derbyshire and North Staffordshire.

I have started a lengthy break from work as of 17.00 yesterday so was in the mood for some good beer and pubs and the chance to visit two of my favourites was the perfect finish to a great day. We picked up Wee keefy before 19.00 and headed out via Ladybower, Bamford, Bradwell, Millers Dale, Brierlow Bar and Longor to the Royal Cottage on the A53.

We arrived early, its surprisingly easy to make the journey from Crookes in an evening, so we parked up outside in the rain and waited for the outside light to come on at 20.00. Every time me and Wee Fatha visit the Royal Cottage it rains, is foggy, or there are high winds. Or all three. Somehow, the meteorological maelstrom is the perfect accompaniment to a visit to the Cottage, and true to form, since Summer is now officially gone, the fire was lit as we walked in through the passage to be met and licked to death by Jessie the friendly Rottweiler.

Just like last time there was one customer already in, presumably a friend, and he sat with us and Cliff the landlord to talk about just about anything really, whilst I supped a bottle of Old Speckled Hen, WK a bottle of Newky Brown and Wee Fatha a Manns Brown Ale. There is something calming (despite the rather busy garish wallpaper and carpets!) and relaxing about sitting in the Royal Cottage listening to the stoic, measured conversation, especially between Cliff and his regulars. Apart from that those words, the only sound is the odd vehicle whizzing past on the main road outside.

As mentioned before, the pub only really seems to be busy at the folk nights on the last Friday of each month, on all other occasions, I've never seen more than 4 customers including us. Sat near the fire with Jessie slumped like a dead weight on my leg listening to Cliff suggest my Dad's recollections of the local railway were from the Thirties (now that's harsh!) and calmly arguing with the bucolic chap next to me about the number of dogs at the Butchers Arms 30 years ago is, despite my description, the epitome of traditional pub atmosphere.

Wee Keefy in the bar room

We stopped for  a few beers in here, Wee Fatha had to go to tomato juice after a bit, and I made a rather unwise decision to try the draught. I noticed Cliff was on the Tetley smoothflow, and whilst that's not a beer I like particularly I thought I'd give it a go.

The more militant amongst you will view what I did next as a travesty, as might those with a nod to medical knowledge, but I drank the beer, even though it was unlike almost any other beer I have ever tasted. And that's not a compliment. It was, through the first two layers of odd earthy sourness, reminiscent of the nitro cream edge of all smoothflow beers, and there was a hint of Tetley malt in the background, with bitterness indiscernible from the sharper flavours. It reminded me of the odd "beer" they sold at the Seven Starts at Halfway House in Shropshire - identifiable only as beer by echoes of malt and hops. Maybe I'm soft not to refuse to drink it. So be it. At least when he offered to top it right to the line I declined....

All too soon another customer had arrived and unfortunately it was time to move on, to leave the darkness of the bar and the harsh single light above the tables and the amazing flock upholstered and covered furniture behind. Having only been visiting for about 6 years I can hardly be accused of having a blinkered memory lane view of this unique pub, so perhaps I have a blinkered view of it now. I can't find fault, well, other than the draught, and that's not really something I say very often. Opening times, as confirmed last night, really are only 20.00 to later on, Friday and Saturday. I continue to believe that the effort of factoring in a trip is well worth it.

We drove back through Longnor next where its clear that the Crewe and Harpur has closed (a light or two on but curtains drawn and the big door shut, no outside lights) and then down through Crowdecote and left up the little lane into Earl Sterndale where Wee Fatha's settling dog parking habits ensured a tantalising wait for entrance to the pub.

Inside it was quite busy and there were 3 beers on, with the excellent pork pies and meat pies on the bar (along with fresh eggs on the piano top) offering a choice of Jennings dark Mild, Marstons Bitter and Wincle Sir Philip. I had intended to keep up my tradition of having a pint of mix but I love Wincle brewery beers so couldn't resist the complex fruity allure of the Sir Phillip.

We got sat down in front of the bar and got chatting to a bloke who used to live in Sale - not that remarkable, until you consider that is where Wee Fatha grew up, and it turns out they lived round the corner from one another. The last time such a co-incidence occurred was in the Royal Cottage, where we got chatting to a man who used to play in the woods near the Jacksons Boat Inn near Sale. I love small world stories like that.

Being somewhat short of good draught thus far I probably had 3 or 4 pints of the excellent Sir Phillip in here, with WK departing for a Dark Mild for two of his, and I got chance to chat to Ken the landlord who is a veritable font of knowledge. Turns out he and Cliff went to school together, and I learnt more about the Royal Cottage in ten minutes than I could have - or indeed would have tried to - in 10 years of visiting.

Alas eventually we had to head home, and with very little traffic we were back in Crookes in 50 minutes, and back home a little further on for me I sat down with a bite to eat and a satisfied positive feeling of having been to two of the best pubs in the area.

All we need to do now is go back and visit the pub at Crowdecote - where rumour has it, an enterprising new landlord of this formerly Worthington or Tetley only pub, has gone mad and put on four guest real ales. Its just another excuse to go to the Royal Cottage of course, but why not?

Cheers!

Wee Beefy