A little refreshment along the way

I’m sure some of you won’t be overjoyed to learn that I haven’t finished my ramblings about the North Downs Way. The paucity of comments so far, does point to a lack of interest in my endeavours to complete the “Canterbury loop” of this 153 mile long distance trail, so perhaps a post describing the two rather good pubs I called in at on my three day walk, will bring things back on track.

Both of these rather different, but very welcome pubs were new to me, although ironically the first one was only a short hop from the small village where I spent my teenage years. Situated in the hamlet of Stowting, at the foot of the North Downs, and nestling in some beautiful countryside, the Tiger Inndates back in part to the 16th century. It acquired its current name in 1985, having previously been known as the Anchor.

The Anchor was the name the pub traded under when I lived with my parents, in the village of Brook, some six miles to the west of Stowting. Brook is also situated below the North Downs escarpment, but is a much larger village. Despite the proximity of the two, I don’t recall ever visiting Stowting. Dad was never keen on driving along the narrow roads at the foot of the downs, especially after suffering a rear-end shunt when pulling over one day to allow a car travelling in the opposite direction, to pass.

Later, when I acquired my own transport, in the form of a motorbike, I did head out in the direction of Stowting, but only ever got as far as the Five Bells at Brabourne. This large pub is still trading, although it has received a serious “makeover,” but at the time, its main attraction was the two hard-to-come by Scottish & Newcastle beers – Younger’s Tartan and Mc Ewan’s Export. Both keg beers of course, but something of a rarity in East Kent at the time.

I could see the Five Bells from the top of the escarpment, when I stopped to eat my packed lunch, but 47 years on it was  Stowting and the Tiger Inn that I was making for, a place I was sure I would be able to sit down and enjoy a well-earned pint. The Tiger is a solid-looking, square-shaped building, with a couple of extensions at the rear. The pub still displays the legend, “Mackeson of Hythe Ales" moulded into its frontage, although much of the lettering is obscured by the rather luxuriant growth of creeper which covers much of the building.

It is claimed that the Anchor was one of the first pubs purchased by the Mackeson Brothers back in the day, but the Hythe based brewery also once owned the Honest Miller; the sole pub in Brook. It is also claimed that the Tiger was one of the first pubs to have been purchased by a consortium of villagers to save it being closed or converted to some other use. This occurred in the 1990’s, and I’m happy to report the pub is still trading successfully today.

When I arrived, most of the custom seemed to be sitting outside, so after purchasing my rather excellent pint of Young’s Ordinary – see previous post, I went out and joined them; although I did make sure to find a shady spot to sit in. The pub’s interior has quite a rustic feel to it, with bare wooden floors, exposed brick walls and plenty of old wooden beams.

Despite changes to the interior over the years, the Tiger has lost none of its character and is still a warm local pub with a friendly & welcoming atmosphere. The bar area is located to the front of the building, with the restaurant to the right and rear. It includes a separate area that can be used for private dining or functions.

The pub is popular with walkers, horse riders and locals alike, and is well worth seeking out for quiet pint or a meal. Given the excellence of the beer, I was tempted to stay for another, but given what I wrote previously about the perils of stopping for a pint, halfway through a lengthy walk, I was glad I followed my own advice.

I was too knackered to manage a pub visit that evening, so missed out on the intriguingly named Cat & Custard Pot at Paddlesworth. My plans for a lunchtime drink the following day were also scuppered when I discovered to my horror, that my intended port of call, the Lighthouse Inn at Capel-le-Ferne,  had closed suddenly, and unexpectedly, at the beginning of July.

I only discovered this the previous evening, so with no suitable lunchtime pub to break my journey, I had to make do instead with the nearby Cliff Top Café. I sat down with a cup of coffee and a rather filling cheese and tomato sandwich, but it was a shame that low cloud and drizzle blowing in off the sea, spoiled the view of the English Channel, as on a clear day it is possible to see right across to the coast of France.

Later that evening, having reached Dover and then taken the train to Shepherdswell, I found myself at the comfortable and well-appointed “Brambles” bed & breakfast establishment in nearby Eythorne. My hosts told me that the Crown, the village’s sole remaining pub was just a short walk away, and that I could get a cooked meal there. Google maps confirmed this, and despite my aching feet I managed the short half a mile distance with relative ease.

The Crown is a solidly built, brick building, with a white-painted frontage. It looks out on to the road which leads out of the village, towards Dover. According to local reports, the pub has been given a new lease of life, since new owners took over its running in February. It was busy with a good mix of drinkers and diners when I called in. Fortunately I had arrived well ahead of the 9pm cut-off point for ordering food.

I was asked if I wanted to sit inside, or outside: either on the  terrace at the side of the pub, or in the garden.
I opted for inside, but then regretted it when I was placed adjacent to a group of diners who were celebrating some sort of event or other. The party consisted mainly of middle-aged women - nothing wrong with that of course, but the group included a rather dominant male whose loud voice, and tedious view points tended to drown out those of his companions. I wondered if the women were as pissed off as I was by "shouty man," who obviously liked the sound of his own voice rather too much.

Fortunately the meal was drawing to a close when I sat down so I didn't have to suffer this individual for too long, but what is it with these people who feel the need to show off  like this and bore everyone else to death? My meal of pan-fried salmon with salad and new potatoes, certainly helped restore my good spirits, as did a couple of pints of some rather good beer – St Austell Proper Job; not a beer I come across on draught that often, but very welcome on that particular evening.

There were no easily accessible pubs the following morning, on the final day of my walk. I stopped to eat my 
packed lunch at Patrixbourne; a picturesque village in a fold in the downs. Unfortunately it is a dry
village without a public house, and also, despite the numerous attractive buildings, gave the impression of being little more than a collection of rather desirable properties, for wealthy people from Canterbury.

There wasn't even a bench for the weary traveller to rest on, so I sat on a grassy bank, next to the road leading out of the village. Suitably fortified, I commenced the long climb out of the village and then joined the relatively straight track which led me all the way to Canterbury, and the conclusion of my walk.