Into the Yorkshire Dales, almost, and one of those Craven villages you whizz by en route to the honeypot villages of Giggleswick and Feizor (?).
Luckily for the ticker, Hellifield (pronounced Heffer) have commissioned a railway station, just for my visit.
For a moment it looks like they won’t be getting my £1.65 as a return on their rail investment, as the Black Horse looks very closed.
But it’s just dark chic, and there’s a healthy mix of locals and tourists who’ve decided that Long Preston is a step too far.
Very much an unimproved rural hotel, I admire the lack of pretense but wonder what’s promoted it into the GBG.
Ah, local beers.
There’s no assumption I’m dining, and the Settle Porter is a rich, cool NBSS 4, a beer of the month in any other year.
Plenty of nooks and crannies to hide or eavesdrop or look for Azerbaijan on the globe.
Families, hikers and locals mingling, all enjoying a weird cover version of “I should be so lucky”, possibly released on the K-Tel label.
The children, forced to leave their laptops because it’s a Bank Holiday, look less than enthralled by the lack of WiFi.
One of the most authentic pubs in the Dales. Where has it been all my ticking life?
And what’s the Pig doing in the Beer tankard.