The curlews at Garsdale Station welcomed us with real razzmatazz, presumably well aware of the impending downpour that hit the station just as soon as the train had dropped us on the platform and disappeared around the bend towards Kirkby Stephen.

We hadn’t expected to use the built-in raincovers on our rucksacks quite so soon, at least not until the next morning when we were due to start walking. But Mother Nature was determined to give us a taste of things to come…

It’s year three of a five year plan to conquer the Pennine Way with my Dad, breaking the 20 day trek into five stages of four days each. And stood in the rain we reflected on how glad we were to not be able to take 20 days off work to walk The Way in one sitting.

We’re heading for Hawes, the small Yorkshire market town where we finished last years leg: Garsdale is the nearest stop by rail, 6 miles down the winding A664 that links Cumbria with Wensleydale.

It’s here we meet Raymond, a lifelong railwayman from the heart of the Dales. He turned out to be a lucky charm – we waited an hour for one of the two scheduled bus services before a clocking-off signalman took pity on Raymond and us and dropped us into town on his way home.

Hair dried and spirits warmed with hot tea, we head out into Hawes for the evening. We cross the Ure, hidden between thin stone houses and the narrow one way loop that bridges the fast moving water.

First stop is the the Crown. Dripping pints of Old Peculiar straight from a fresh cask brimming with rich plum tart and apple fudge are an olfactory flashback to the places we’ve visited along the way so far, of windswept trails, muddy boots and welcoming pubs.

We avoid Raymond’s local, partly from choice but mostly because the White Hart is shut down and for sale, and I felt a pang of guilt for not being too surprised.

Next stop is Chaste, a small ever-evolving bistro in the heart of the town. Since last year Belgian beers have made their way onto the inventive menu and Pilsner Urquell adorns the bar, and so it was that Chimay Red accompanied our grilled chicken dishes.

7% beers were unsustainable the night before attacking Great Shunner Fell, the highest part of The Way above sea level so far. So Pilsner Urquell – lacking some of its usual herbaceous aroma – helped fill the hole that abstinence from desserts left.

Two pints later and we’re talking to the only simultaneous winner of the J. Sleightholme Trophy For Largest Cod and the Dr King Cup For Other Fish, a feat not rivalled since 1984/5. The Fountain is a drinking pub compared to the pastel-coloured gentrification of the Crown, but fishing hasn’t been on the cards since the turn of the millennium.

It’s Black Sheep not Theakston’s now, a which-one-will-it-be lottery that you have to get used too pretty quickly in the Dales. But for our sins were drinking very cloudy and poorly poured Blue Moon followed by crisp pints of Copper Dragon Conqueror – freshly nosed and quenching.

The crowd gets younger and the bottles of Becks are starting to dominate the empties on the bar. Luckily the juke box hasn’t come to life yet, though by the looks of its age it’s more comfortable with rock and roll than the dub step that the youngsters are reciting in the corner. Seconds from announcing retirement to the B&B Dad throws the gauntlet down with a last gasp round. Two pints of something else hit the beer-drenched bar towel; was it Black Sheep bitter, or perhaps an Old Peculiar nightcap?

Bending down to tie our laces the next morning we both groan, perhaps a little in the way that my grandfather – dads dad – has perfected over the years.

“Shouldn’t have had that last beer last night, should we?”

And with that we head for the high road and start the long slog up Great Shunner Fell. 6 pints down, just 4 evenings, 60 odd miles and god knows how many gradient lines to go…

Garsdale station

The route

Graham Nuttall

Russwarp

White Hart Hawes

The Crown Hawes

The hop goddess

Conqueror

Hawes club

Day Two. A coffee and a banana were the best Earby had to offer for brekkie and we set out before 9am towards Thornton in Craven, the official start of our second day walking.

Farmland dominates the Pennine Way until the path hits Yorkshire again, and despite a near miss with a quicksand mud field we made onto the Leeds-Liverpool canal hoping to hit Gargrave for noon. A mile from our lunch stop my OS Explorer ran out and we swapped for my Dad’s Landranger map.

This was significant, as Landranger’s (the pink ones) don’t go to the same level of detail, whereas Explorer’s outline the landscape down to individual fields. Within minutes we were off The Way, only a field or two out but with no idea whether the path lay East or West and not enough detail on the map to gauge our bearings. Glacial drumlins blocked the horizon in all directions so we headed aimlessly north in the hope of reacing the crest of a hill and spying Gargrave.

At the point that all the fields were protected with barbed wire we became a little uncomfortable and descended cautiously into the umpteenth trough of the umpteenth sheep-shit covered peak. Crossing the field diagonally the quiet group of cows in the corner looked up and watched us intently. Something didn’t feel right*. As we hit the half way point the herd bolted towards the gate that was our destination and when they crossed our route they rounded to face us, lining up in fighter jet formation. I’d never seen a cow run so fast. I’d certainly never seen 8 cows run so fast.

A depressing point giving we started the walk in 2009...

The bastards had clearly blocked us off and were now peering at us ready to charge. I scampered straight back up the hill leaving my Dad wandering bullishly towards his untimely demise. At which point he scarped after me and with the aid of a prickly thorn tree we jumped the barbed wire into the adjoining field.

A few circulars later and we stumbled on what seemed like a path. Rejoicing, we followed it, somewhat out of desperation. As we passed the herd of cows from the safe side of a thick hedge we saw their calves beyond the gate we’d been headed for and understood their aggression. Vindicated in my situation analysis we serendipitously stumbled upon another path, this one with a huge pointed cross stump hailing the Pennine Way. How did we miss that?!

A simple lunch in Gargrave and a map purchase made for a more successful afternoon and we followed the River Aire, winding through fields and villages towards Malham, our next stopover. As he heavens opened we found refuge under a gazebo in a Quaker’s graveyard at Airton, and they lived up to their friendly name offering us tea and biscuits. Hardy Yorkshire men as we are we didn’t stop long though and soldiered on through the downpour (we had to put our waterproof coats to use after all!) Eventually were within sight of our destination and the huge rocky outcrop of Malham Cove rose up in the distance. Somehow it looks even bigger from a distance than it does up close.

The Buck Inn, Malham. Comes with beautiful bar staff as standard.

The Youth Hostel didn’t open until 5pm and we’d completed the 1o-ish miles by 3pm despite getting lost in fields of angry cows. The Buck Inn provided much needed refreshment exclusively from local breweries (Timothy Taylors, Thwaites and Copper Dragon) and we were half cut by the time we checked in and showered.

Lamb Henry for me and chicken curry for my Dad were provided at the pleasure of the Lister Hotel, where Old Peculiar was a revelation. A couple of hours of pool and oggling the Eurovision song contest ensued (as well as the fantastic bar girls back at the Buck).

(*though I should point out that I’m terrified of most creatures including cats and dogs, let alone farmyard animals)

Shrouded in uncertainly it’s been a a funny ol’ festive period for Copper Dragon. Since mid December rumours of administration and liquidation have been quietly circulating and the future for Skipton’s growing brewery wasn’t looking bright.

Brass in pocket: the brewery have reorganised their coppers and weathered all that this winter could throw at them

But fresh from the Christmas holidays with their finances restructured Copper Dragon seem to be back on their feet and fighting fit for whatever 2010 can throw at them.

Online business news website The Business Desk and Bradford’s Telegraph and Argus newspaper report that Copper Dragon’s pub business was liquidised in November 2008 throwing the brewery into a turbulent period, during which the administrators were called in on the Friday before Christmas by a high street bank, which is pretty annoying by anyone’s standards. Steve Taylor, the brewery’s founder and MD subsequently took his stake in the company from 75% to 100% after refusing to give up further equity or intellectual property rights.

It’s rarely a good time for a company to go into administration but teetering on the edge of oblivion at Christmas time is particularly unpleasant, with customers looking for mini-pins for parties, pubs filling up for the festivities and staff looking forward to well earned family time. Just getting home in the snow in Yorkshire was bad enough!

So we’re really pleased that it looks like it’s all sorted and that the jobs, brewery, bistro and six of the pubs have been secured, and we look forward to sampling some of the new beers that come out of Skipton’s finest this year.

Okay, I’ll say it: I’m sick of it as well. For well over a year now, we are bombarded with horrendous doom-mongering phrases such as ‘credit crunch’ and people cannot talk about ANYTHING without the grating expression “…in the current climate”. Yes, it’s a bad situation; but in the face of adversity, I often prefer to take a look at the positives, if only to have a holiday from the negatives for a while.

Which is why I felt a glow of enthusiasm whilst browsing the various news sites and blogs this morning and noticing there was much talk of the financial success and growth of Skipton’s Copper Dragon brewery.

Now I confess, I have a huge soft spot for CD; their Golden Pippin ale was the first beer that truly converted me to real ale, and began a sequence of events that has led me and my companions to invest a ridiculous amount of time talking about, writing about and (most importantly) brewing beer. In a garage, using a converted Hotpoint Twin-tub washing machine, we have spent around nine months simply trying to create an imitation of our favourite beer (for the record, our recipe is tantalisingly close now; brew three gave us a lesson, however – you CAN have too much alcohol in beer!).

It is this kind of creative spirit and dedication to finding a high quality ale that has generated a rapidly rising industry that is on the way to becoming big-business. There is money to be made in running a relatively small brewing operation it seems, if a professional approach to business and high quality of products can be achieved.

In the past year, Copper Dragon has increased turnover by 50% to £4m, as well as moving into a new £4.5m brewery and visitor centre last November and increasing staff levels by half.

This is an incredible growth for a fledgling company of seven years competing in a market that has in the past been considered very tricky to break into.

Other micro-breweries across the country are also making huge leaps in production levels and standards. Mark Dredge over on the ‘Pencil and Spoon’ blog reported on his visit to Thornbridge’s new multi-million pound brewery that looks incredibly advanced and futuristic in his photographs (also see Reluctant Scoop‘s photos of the opening). As well as the move (and increased capacity) the company were projected to be reaching sales of £650,000 this year, another company that was only founded this decade (in 2004).

All the evidence of why such companies are increasing their trade can be found in the confines of a neatly-packaged glass bottle. The breweries have developed exciting brands and terrific, boundary-pushing flavours that can only have been blended together by those who are excited, and want to excite, with their craft.

The country may be bust, but the boom of one of the most exciting growth industries continues through the hell of recession (there – I said it; no need for that phrase again!).

Just got back from my first Thursday night music quiz night at the Rosebud near Rothwell, South Leeds.

The Rosebud is Sam’s local pub, located on a quiet road of houses that overlook pleasant fields. It’s one of last pubs in the area that still regularly brings in guest ales and is a nice little spot for watching Leeds United with a real ale in hand.

Anyhow I met Sam and the chaps and the four us got to trying the guest ales, which were Ginger Pig by Springhead (who’s web site SEO isn’t great!), Sharp’s Cornish Coaster and Copper Dragon’s Golden Pippin.

Copper Dragon's Golden Pippin - pride of the Rosebud pub this Thursday

Firstly I ordered a half (yes, it’s a school night!) of Ginger Pig which had caused an amicable rift amongst the table; Sam believing it to be a little heavy whereas the rest believing it nice and refreshing. The elusive Springhead Brewery have created a straw coloured beer that is light and, if I’m honest a little bland and watery.

Perhaps it’s just very subtle, but this beer is named after it’s core differentiating ingredient, ginger. This is no Blandford Fly by any account, but whilst it sips easy and is refreshing and enjoyable, it’s not much more than pleasant and would benefit from a little extra complexity and depth. Not that it’s bad, I can se it been ,much better on a hot day as a refreshing light ale, but just not as entertaining as I was expecting on a dark and rainy night.

Second up came Cornish Coaster, one of Sharp’s ‘Other Beers’ (again with the poor SEO – titles of their web pages could with some improvement!).  Now this beer is interesting! In my notebook I simply wrote ‘you can taste the country air’ (which would have been the first line of my review had I taken a picture of it). Read the rest of this entry »