Across the street
from the Blue Bell was a pub advertising a "carvery"
and all kinds of horsy motifs, so we took a look at
the Blue Bell, where there were walkers sittings outside
with their boots off, gently steaming, and there were
some walkers inside with their boots still on. Understandably,
we went to the Blue Bell. Strictly speaking, I went
to the Blue Bell alone, while Doris went off in search
of hedgehogs, as she usually does in Kettlewell.
The Blue Bell serves beers
from Scottish Courage, while the Racehorses across
the street serves mainly Theakstons (which is Scottish
Courage in a small package) and occasionally a guest
beer, so in truth the Racehorses may have had better
beer, but I was quite content to sit outside at the
picnic tables with my rucksack and throbbing feet.
Scottish Courage was created
in 1995 when Scottish & Newcastle bought Courage
from its Australian owners, Fosters. We are not talking
micro-breweries here, we are talking Business. Big,
international, executive-heavy, glass-tower business.
Courage itself had been
a brewer with no pubs since 1991, having sold its
entire pub inventory to the Inntrepreneur organization.
Scottish and Newcastle had around 2600 pubs, mostly
in the North and Midlands. The lumbering juggernaut
Scottish Courage found themselves stuck with some
breweries so simply dumped most of them, keeping only
a handful, one of which is the tiny Theakstons Brewery
in Masham. Why did they keep that one? If they own
Theakstons Brewery, why are Theakstons beers produced
in Newcastle?
In reality, the
Theakstons plant in Masham is little more than a publics
relations front, a picture postcard of brewing as
it used to be. The fact that it exists and still produces
a miniscule amount of beer (for consumption in and
around Masham) allows Scottish Courage to place evocative
ads in the big color magazines extolling the rustic
charm of the Theakston brewery and implying that the
Theakston beers found at your local have been lovingly
crafted in this idyllic backwater, complete with wooden
barrels, ancient coppers and amusing characters. However,
read the small print: "Theakston ales are also
brewed in Newcastle". Yes, about 95% of 'em.
These days, you have to
be careful.
So much for the
company, what of the beers? Well, amongst a lot of
dross, some fine ales do exist. Directors from Bristol
is a robust well-balanced brew with a powerful finish,
and one that I usually grab if I am feeling wealthy
or thirsty or both. It does cost a little more, but
I consider it worth it. They also do Old Peculiar,
which is frequently wonderful, but should not be drunk
with anything you want to eat & taste at the same
time. It can be challenging.
The Blue Bell
is a fine choice for a swift pint. Muddy boots allowed
inside & out, stone floors to stomp across and
a good choice of beers when you reach the bar.
By this time we
had established that we were not on your typical pub-crawl.
Walking long distances with an unwilling pack on ones
back is not the easiest choice for transport from
pub to pub. It is however a choice that adds a whole
new dimension to the process, partly due to the welcome
absence of motorized transport, but mostly due to
the notable physical and mental effects of dragging
ones carcass across the English countryside with a
big heavy pack on ones back.
When I tell people that
we walk fifteen to twenty miles a day, most respond
that such a distance does not sound so bad. Until
you have to do it carrying the equivalent of a bag
of concrete with you. In the rain. For the third straight
day.
Your backpack is not a
willing companion. After sitting down with you at
some tranquil rest stop, it does not want to get back
up and remains, tight-lipped, anchored to the ground.
The backpack is the one vital piece of equipment that
you will come to hate the most in the shortest period
of time.
But walking, as I said,
does add a new dimension to a pub, and we need to
be careful in our evaluation that we do not get carried
away on a wave of euphoria and gratitude, when an
otherwise moderate pub opens its doors to us at the
end of a particularly exacting stretch of bleak moorland.
We still need to stand back, but we need to sit down
first.
The walk up Coverdale
and over the tops to Wharfedale is a rewarding one.
With the Thwaite Arms at one end, and Kettlewell's
three pubs at the other, it is a bi-directional walk
offering great views, lots of history and some physical
challenges.
When I lived in Coverdale,
I passed by a short standing stone by the side of
the road many, many times, always assuming it to be
a now-defunct gatepost. Not at all so. It is an old
guide marker for the pilgrims coming up through the
dale and is inscribed with a cross on one side: it
is an ancient monument. At midnight, it is said that
it revolves spontaneously. I am not entirely sure
what that achieves, but it is a neat story and again
reminds us to open our eyes to what is immediately
around us, and not take anything for granted.