On a roll now, I stopped ten minutes back down the line to Barrow, at Askam (not to be confused with Askham up the road, unless you’re BRAPA.
Loads of Beer Guide pubs round here, nearly all remote (compared to Kendall, anyway) and promising much.
Starting with the one on Askam Station’s doorstep, which was handy as it was a miserable night.
A small village with a bustling community no doubt settling in for the late afternoon session, I couldn’t wait.
Yes, obviously it was closed. Probably to deter the Black Eyed Pubbers.
Never mind. Courage fortified by those two pints in Foxfield, I activated my mobile phone torch and set off toward the Black Dog in the middle of nowhere (or B).
Plenty of places for a comfort break anyway, that’s the good point. A two mile walk uphill where you continually jump onto a sodden bank is good for the character, as BRAPA will know.
Still, the view to the bright lights of Sellafield competed with the smoke from bonfires and the smell of fertiliser. I thought I heard a tiger’s roar as I approached the Black Dog, the darkness gets to you.
Like an isolated drovers pub on the Welsh/English border or the Tandle Hill Tavern, remoteness adds character but does it mean a friendly welcome from the regulars, all of whom had clearly been driven.
Well, it wasn’t unfriendly. The locals, clustered at the bar, made way and the barmaid was Good Cheer herself, but you’re hardly going to pull a seat up to the bar, barge in and start discussing BREXIT, are you ? The only conversation I overheard centred on “the backstop“, and they weren’t debating the Chicago Cubs, Dick.
No-one seemed remotely interested in using the main body of the pub, of course.
So I sat close enough to the action, away from the giant fire, and actually just enjoyed a cool, clean, fruity half of Loweswater Gold (NBSS 3.5). Which is as ubiquitous as Adnams round here.
Yes, you noticed it. £3 a pint. An honorary micro.
I took my glass back, and said “Bye”. I don’t think they noticed.
It was a long walk back, uphill all the way.