A hectic week

It’s been a rather hectic week, with two trips up to London, a surveillance audit at work, plus the usual run of the mill stuff that constitutes a busy working life in 21^st Century Britain.

The visits to London were at the start and then the finish of the working week, and both were connected with CAMRA’s Great British Beer Festival, but as I’m intending to write about them both separately, all you need to know for now is that Monday evening’s trip was for the British Guild of Beer Writer’s Summer Party, whilst Friday was an all day, so that I could attend GBBF.

The connection between the former and the latter is that every year the Beer Writer’s Guild hold a party which, by tradition, takes place on the evening before the opening day of the Great British Beer Festival.

Both events were good in their own right, and there’s lots to tell about each one, but this week Southeastern Trains have certainly had their money’s worth out of me, and that’s with the one-third discount which my Senior Railcard qualifies me for.

More importantly, I have drank some excellent beers, met lots of interesting people, some of whom I know, whist others I didn’t, but this weekend I think both liver and wallet deserve a rest!

So it’s a case of knuckling down and bashing away on the keyboard to bring you all the latest news and gossip about these two linked and GBBF-inspired events.

Good beer and good cheer at the Nelson Arms

I caught up with an old friend, over a few drinks, last Thursday evening. We’d only seen each other briefly over the course of the past few months, so a get-together was long overdue.

As we wanted somewhere quiet, where we could chat without disturbance from television or recorded music, we opted for the Nelson Arms, a backstreet local, tucked away behind Tonbridge railway station.

It’s just over a mile from my house to the pub and being quite a sultry evening, I was rather hot and sticky when I arrived. My friend had turned up a few minutes beforehand, and was standing at the bar when I walked through the door.

The choice of beers was split between Kent Brewery and Young’s. I was especially pleased to see both Ordinary and Special on sale from the latter brewery, and over the course of the evening was determined to try both of them.

The Nelson was reasonably busy, with a handful of darts players in the former public bar area, plus a few small number of individuals, like us, in the plusher, right hand section of the pub. We found a spare table and sat down, both eager to recount and listen to each other’s traveller’s tales.

My friend had spent time travelling through France and into western Germany, with his Australian girlfriend, whilst I’d been on a business trip to China and had also walked an additional section of the North Downs Way. We compared notes and looked at each other’s photos – digital ones, of course, but I came away having added Heidelberg to my list of places to visit, along with the Alsace region of eastern France.

I was also able to catch up with some of the developments taking place locally, on the CAMRA front as, unlike me, my friend is still active as a committee member of West Kent CAMRA.  The branch had recently held presentations for three local pubs, which were either deemed “much improved” or runner-up in the branch pub of the year award (please don’t call it POTY!). For a variety of reasons, I missed these events, but my friend confirmed they had all been successful and were well attended.

I was true to my aim of trying both the Young’s beers, preferring the Ordinary to the Special. The latter seemed darker than I remember it, with a slight reddish tint which certainly wasn’t present in the Special I drank in my twenties and early thirties. I still scored it at 3.0 NBSS, against a 3.5 for the Ordinary.

By contrast, the 4.9% Tropic Ale, from Kent Brewery, wasn’t as good, and with hindsight I should have gone with the brewery’s weaker 3.7% Session Pale. With work the following morning, three pints was sufficient for me, but even so it was getting on for 11pm when we left the pub.

Before ending, special mention should be made of the young and very knowledgeable barmaid, who changed my first pint (a very cloudy seasonal from Kent Brewery), without question, and who also told me about her attempts to promote the “craft” cans, stored in a glass fronted fridge, behind the bar. Full marks to her, and full marks to landlord Matt Rudd for teaching his staff about beer.

So a good evening all round with good company, good beer and an excellent pub, which is also a great place to visit for a quiet drink.

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.

A bed for the night

On my recent North Downs Way walk I stayed in a couple of really nice bed & breakfast places. Quiet and tucked out of the way, they weren’t cheap, costing more than I’d pay on a nightly basis for a hotel room on a city break in Europe. However, for the relaxing experience they offered – something much needed after a hard day’s walking, they were worth every penny.

I promised the proprietors of both establishments that I would give them a good write-up, not on Trip Advisor, but on this blog, which of course is free from the bias and other constraints that affect the former. So what you are about to read are my own observations and comments, about two quite different, but equally pleasant bed and breakfast places. It goes without saying that I received no inducements, financial or other wise, to write these two reviews.

The first establishment was the intriguingly named, Pigeonwood House; an old farmhouse dating back to 1769. The house is situated on the edge of the tiny hamlet of Arpinge, high on the North Downs, above Folkestone, in a tranquil and very rural setting. Being only 300 yards from the NDW, it was ideal from my point of view, although the advertised “spectacular views of the surrounding countryside, then across the sea to France,” failed to materialise due to a combination of low cloud and light rain the following morning.

Pigeonwood House is under ten minutes from the Channel Tunnel Terminal; the vast marshalling yards for both freight traffic and cars, at the foot of the escarpment, are visible from the end of the road, Dover is only another ten minutes further. Many guests at Pigeonwood House take advantage of this proximity when traveling to and from the continent, enjoying the homely and peaceful atmosphere, before hitting the road, so to speak.

Despite the closeness of the terminal, I couldn’t hear any noise from all this activity taking place, just below the downs, and slept like the proverbial log. I had the impression that Mary the landlady was shocked not only at how tired I looked when I turned up an hour and a half after my estimated time of arrival, but also how refreshed and revived I appeared the following morning, after eight hours sleep and a rather satisfying full-English breakfast.

I wolfed the breakfast down, complementing it with cereal to start and plenty of toast and marmalade, mindful of the fact that apart from scoffing most of the complimentary biscuits in my room, I hadn’t eaten since the previous lunchtime. I had planned an evening visit to the curiously named Cat & Custard Pot pub, at the equally strange-sounding hamlet of Paddlesworth.

The pub is slightly under a mile and a half from Pigeonwood House, and under normal circumstances I would quite happily have walked there. But having just covered over fourteen miles, with a heavy pack on my back, I thought better of it. Mary did offer to drive me there, when I arrived, but all I wanted was to get my boots off and dive under a nice refreshing shower.

I was also working on the assumption that the offer of a lift didn’t extend to collecting me, later in the evening, so I politely declined her offer, as in all seriousness I didn’t feel up to walking even that short distance. After reading a review on Booking.com, I later discovered that it did, but given the fact I enjoyed an early night and eight hours unbroken sleep - a real rarity for me, I'm convinced I made the right decision.

There were no such problems with walking to the pub from the second B&B; a modern and contemporary AA 4-star-rated establishment called, “Brambles,” situated in the village of Eythorne. Here, hosts Mike and Claire offer luxurious bed and breakfast accommodation, with everything you need to lean back, relax and enjoy your stay, with a comfortable bed and modern, en-suite bathroom.

The chilled water and fresh milk in waiting in the room’s silent fridge, (an important consideration if you're a light sleeper), along with a rather scrumptious homemade cake, courtesy of the hosts, were a nice touch although, despite my best efforts, there was rather too much lemon-drizzle cake for me to manage on my own. The following morning, Claire wrapped up what was left for me, to see me on my way, along with a pre-ordered packed lunch.

Eythorne is a couple of miles away from the NDW trail, which passes through the neighbouring village of Sheperherdswell. I’d arrived at the local station, after travelling from Dover by train, (I’d walked the Sheperherdswell – Dover section a couple of years previously.) After a phone call, host Mike very kindly collected me from the station and also dropped me off at the start of the NDW, the following morning.

The evening of my arrival, saw me up for a walk to the local pub. Following the closure of the White Horse, just a couple of minutes walk from Brambles, this meant a half-mile walk to the Crown, at the other end of the village. My route took me down the hill to Eythorne station, a reconstructed platform and signal box, on the heritage East Kent Railway, which runs between the village and Sheperdswell.

The line was constructed between 1911 and 1917, to light railway standards, by the legendary engineer, Colonel H .F. Stephens. It ran between Shepherdswell and the Kent Coalfields, its primary purpose being to carry coal. It remained operational as far as Tilmanstone Colliery, until the 1984-85 Miners Strike. Following the closure, a year later, of Tilmanstone, services on the line ceased in 1987.

I then followed the road up the hill, past the rather large Baptist Church, to the village shop and post office. The attractive looking Crown was a little further on, along the road which leads out of the village, towards Dover.

I had a good meal a the pub, and some equally good beer – St Austell Proper Job, before returning to Brambles for the night. After a good night’s sleep and a substantial full English breakfast the following morning, I was dropped off, where the NDW crossed the road into Shepherdswell, as mentioned above.

Like Pigeonwood House, Brambles accommodates quite a few visitors from overseas, as well as hikers like me, who appreciate a little luxury after a long and hard day’s walk. I can recommend them both, if you are ever in that part of East Kent.

"Short cuts make delays, but inns make longer ones."

Question, when you’re embarking on a long distance walk, possibly one that’s part of a national, long-distance trail, do you factor in a pub stop? If  you do, at what stage of the walk should the ideal pub stop be? The answer may surprise you when I say the ideal time for a pub stop should be at the end of a long walk, rather than in the middle.

I appreciate everyone is different, but for me, stopping for just one beer slows me down, and two slows me down even further. I will reveal the perils of lingering longer than that a little later, but I speak from many years experience of rambling and long distance walking.

I say all this as someone who likes pubs and really likes a beer. It’s fine if it’s just a short walk you’ve embarked on  - five or six miles, for example;  but when you start getting into double figures, that’s when a pub stop becomes fraught with difficulties.

I appreciate the temptation to stop for a swift pint is often irresistible; it was just over a week ago, when I called in at the idyllic Tiger Inn, but stopping on a long walk for any length of time not only eats significantly into your remaining walking time, but will cause you some difficulty when it comes to getting going again.

Your legs will have stiffened up, and your reserves of energy will seem to be exhausted. Too much beer can adversely affect your blood sugar levels, leading to you feeling tired, even before you start walking again.

So without sounding like a right kill-joy, if you do feel the need to stop at a pub, during the course of a lengthy walk, then try to ensure it is at least past the halfway point, and  preferably much further.

Another point worth keeping in mind is the location of the pub. If it is situated directly on the trail, or just a few hundred yards off it, then all well and good, but if it involves a major detour, not only are you wasting walking time, you are also increasing your total mileage.

There is also the golden rule of  “Not losing height,” as if you do, you will invariably have to regain it at some stage. My friend Eric and I followed this rule whilst walking the South Downs Way, even though we both like a drink, but it was essential given the distances involved between the various stages.

It was only on the final day of the walk, when we were making for the end of the trail, in Winchester, when we came unstuck. Our route led us right past the door of the excellent Milbury’s pub, near Beauworth, high on the downs to the east of Winchester.

It was a gloriously bright autumnal day, at the beginning of October,  and feeling pleased with our progress, and the fact we would be completing the SDW later that day, we decided to call in for a couple of pints, plus a quick bite to eat.

Both beer and food were good, as was the pub, but when my companion got chatting to a group of the local and a further pint appeared, I knew it wasn’t going to end well. We still had quite a few miles to go, and unlike the previous sections of the walk, which took place in early summer, we knew that in early October, darkness would be upon us much earlier than it would in June.

By the time we got our packs on and started walking again, not only had our legs tightened up, but our walk turned into a race against the clock. Forcing already tired limbs to walk quickly is not a good idea and, as we waked thorough a section of forest, we could sense the gathering gloom and the fading light.

It was getting dark by the time we reached the outskirts of Winchester, but at least we were in a built up area.  An important lesson had been learned, and one well worth taking note of.

I want to end with a famous literary example of the possible pit-falls of stopping off for a pint, whilst out walking. It is from the “Fellowship of the Ring”  - the first volume of JRR Tolkien’s classic, “Lord of the Rings.”

Frodo Baggins is journeying through the Shire (the fictional land where the Hobbits lived, in Tolkien’s imaginary world), with two friends; Samwise Gamgee and Peregrin Took (Pippin). They are travelling from Frodo and Sam’s home at Hobbiton, in the centre of the Shire to Bucklebury, in the far east.

If you’ve read the books, you will know the three companions are fleeing from danger, whilst carrying a precious, but secret burden, but that is an aside to what comes next. Pippin wants to stop for a drink, but Frodo is reluctant to do so as he fears his friends will spend too much time in the pub. As a result, he makes them take a detour. Pippin accepts the decision but is not impressed:

 “All right,” said Pippin, “I will follow you into every bog and ditch. But it is hard. I had counted on passing the Golden Perch at Stock before sundown.  The best beer in Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time since I tasted it. 

“That settles it,” said Frodo. “Short cuts make delays but inns make longer ones. At all costs we must keep you away from the Golden Perch. We want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say Sam?” 

 “I will go along with you Mr Frodo,” said Sam (in spite of private misgivings and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing)”.  

ps. Like the quest for some imaginary Shangri-La, I have spent much of the last 40 plus years trying to find the Golden Perch!  

Perfect Five

Well just when I thought that beer couldn’t get much better than that totally unexpected pint of Young’s Ordinary, in the Tiger Inn on day one of my walk, another even more amazing beery experience managed to top that on day three.

Friday was the third, and final day of that particular North Downs Way section, and whilst I didn’t quite manage to close off the “Canterbury Loop,” I only missed out by four miles. That short stretch can be completed another time, but having walked the 10 miles from Shepherdswell, I was pleased with myself just for reaching Canterbury. 

There’s something deceptive about entering a town or city on foot, especially when you’ve just been walking through open countryside. First there are things to walk past like industrial estates, low-density housing, allotments, the odd school etc, and that initial flush of enthusiasm that comes with thinking you’ve arrived, soon gets lost when you realise there’s still a mile or two to go.

A city like Canterbury is particularly frustrating as you will have spotted the cathedral from some distance away, and the longer you walk towards it , the further away it seems to become. I remember a similar experience whilst walking into Lewes, on the South Down Way, when the castle which dominates the town from afar, appeared to do exactly the same thing. Still, at least it wasn’t pouring down with rain, this time around!

What my route into Canterbury did achieve though, was to take me through an area of the city that I hadn’t been in before; despite me thinking that I really knew the place. So after passing the remains of  St Augustine’s Abbey, the city gaol, and some brand new buildings constructed for Canterbury Christ Church University, I arrived at the inner-city ring road, which follows Canterbury’s still largely intact, medieval city walls.

I did think of calling in at the lovely little New Inn, and would have done so had I known that a group of West Kent CAMRA members would be heading there after attending the Kent Beer Festival (plastic glasses only, so no thanks!). Instead I kept going until  I reached the gate to the cathedral precincts.

I had planned to visit Canterbury Brewers in their recently re-sited Foundry Brew-Pub, but I was the wrong side of the High Street for that. Instead I headed for the Old Buttermarket, an historic old pub, owned by the Nicholson’s chain of slightly  upmarket pubs.

The pub fronts on to a small pedestrianised square, right opposite the cathedral gate, and the tables and chairs set outside always look inviting, especially in summer. With this in mind, my intention was to sit outside and enjoy a beer, whilst watching the world go by.

I’d been to the Old Buttermarket  on several previous occasions with friends, so I knew that whilst the pub is somewhat upmarket, it does serves a diverse and changing range of interesting beers. Upon entering I saw that Fuller’s beers featured quite prominently on the beer menu, but after deciding to go for the Dark Star American Pale, and being on the verge of ordering a pint, I noticed right out the corner of my eye a tap for Pilsner Urquell, almost hidden amongst some of the other keg taps.

I had an abrupt change of mind, as it’s not everyday you find a pub serving one of your all-time favourite beers, as along with St Austell, Proper Job, Pilsner Urquell is one of my go-to beers for drinking at home.

I just love its blend of rich, sweet malt,  with the juiciness that can only come from a traditional triple-decoction mash. This is set against just the right degree of bitterness from locally grown Saaz hops. Poured the traditional Czech way, with a thick dense head of wet foam, that seals in both flavour plus aroma, and adds a real smoothness, you’d be hard put to find a better beer.

And so it turned out on Friday afternoon, as despite its price tag of £5.10, that pint of Pilsner Urquell at the Old Buttermarket, was one of the finest pints of beer it has been my privilege to drink – and I don’t say that lightly! If CAMRA allowed world-classic beers to be scored, rather than just cask ales, that pint would have been a definite 5.0 NBSS!

Before taking my glass outside, I took another mouthful of the beer, just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I wasn’t, the beer was absolutely brilliant and I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I sat down at one of the tables facing the cathedral gate, feeling totally relaxed and at one with the world. This wasn’t just down to the smugness of having completed my walk, but much more to the excellence of the beer.

I was sorely tempted to have another, and almost succumbed, but thinking along the lines that you can sometimes have too much of a good thing, decided the moment had passed and a second pint would not taste quite as good as the first; even though nothing had changed. I also had an hour’s train journey back to Tonbridge, and wanted to be back in time to cadge lift back from the station, from son Matthew.

So feeling content with the world, I slowly made my way through the throngs of tourists and overseas visitors, to Canterbury West station. That 5.0 NBSS pint of Pilsner Urquell had been the perfect way to end my North Downs Way walk, and as I sat there admiring the scenery as the train hurried along the Stour Valley, I had a wry smile on face as I could still picture, and almost savour, that beer in my mind’s eye.