BRAPA - More from the Moors

Saturday morning and for once, Mr Sat Nav wasn't the main source of our frustration as we journeyed north through the beautiful North Yorkshire Moors, past Malton and Pickering - today it was "Mr Windscreen Washer" who kept beeping every 5 minutes to remind Dad his levels were low.

The mist and fog swirled around once we arrived on the top, surrounded by grouse and heather, you could just imagine Basil Rathbone being chased by a devil dog with the face of Tom Irvin.

Back on the other side by the busy coast (it was half term week, spit!), it was all sunshine again so as we arrived at our first pub, which was admirably open at 11am despite the old Inn sign and front door looking unpromising.

1030.  Brown Cow, Hinderwell

We walked in through a very narrow corridor, the landlord (a sturdy steady stoic man in green) breathed in to let us past, and served us a great Farmers Blonde (I should've got it in Ackworth the night before) with Cameron's Strongarm the other ale on offer.  What also excited me was a Carling Premier font, not sure I've seen that since I accidentally spilt a skinhead's pint in Cardiff circa 1998 and had to run to another room!  This was a lot more serene, and it was one of those "almost someone's front room pubs", but with bird themed curtains, darts trophies galore, walking maps of the local area and the voice of Myleene Klass reverberating around the building (sadly, only on Smooth radio and not there in person) and classic 80's hits played.  We sat in the sun at the far end, I think we were the only customers, a great pub.

Dad basks in sunshine fun

My view of the bar

The Smooth radio screen

We then drove into the middle of nowhere back on the Moors, located our pub, but a fleet of cars were parking up and a big group were lurking the car park, so we parked down the road and Dad suspected Ugthorpe was a very odd place.  

1031.  Black Bull Inn, Ugthorpe

Back in the car park, Dad asked the friendliest looking chap in the group if we were waiting for the pub to open.  "I am open" was the quick reply, and he walked us inside, explaining these people were waiting for some kind of photo opportunity (and as a consequence, my BRAPA outdoor photo had to wait til we'd left the pub).  He was a very personal bald slimline young chap, explaining there's no point having more than 2 ales on in a pub like this - we agreed and had the "guest ale from Stockport", explained to us in a way which made Stockport sound continental and mysterious.  In truth, it was a guest Robinsons ale with lemon in it.  With the photo opportunity complete, the big group came inside for a hearty feed, plenty of beer bellies and beards flying about so the young girl who looked like Willow from Neighbours seemed a bit out of place.  Their shirts said "Audis and Dubs" and sure enough, loads of glittering Audis were parked outside.  Good job I find cars interminably dull.  Our genial host seemed to have the job of "entertaining them" aswell as running the pub, turned out his father and his father's father had the pub before.  He was definitely the right man for the occasion and he was definitely impressed by BRAPA, probably.

Dad ticks off one of he trickiest remaining Yorkshire pubs

My pint and the bar, pre-Audi gang

Which artist did this view remind me of (clue, this is the most highbrow BRAPA q ever)

On the way out, finally got my pic!

We took the short drive on to the incredibly scenic village of Egton Bridge and found a free carpark and walked over the "historic" (rebuilt 1989) actual Egton Bridge. The drive made me realise how much I nearly killed myself that BRAPA day of yore when I walked Beck Hole-Grosmont-Egton-Lealholm - a killer!

1032.  Horseshoe Hotel, Egton Bridge

We walked in through a rabbit warren of corridors and side rooms (this was our third residential pub of the day) and a huge group of feeding women were laughing like chimpanzees.  We got served this incredibly chocolatey pint of Great Newsome ale (better than any in 'Ull) and Dad told me a 'lazy wind' is a wind that goes right through you, because it is too lazy to go around you - it's a Hull thing so don't worry if you don't understand, just be thankful.  No sooner had we sat in a corner when a crazy, outgoing chap commented on my obviously amazing drinking trousers - though his older female friend (his Mum?) was less than impressed.  He'd love a pair the same but was worried his friends would take the mickey, they already judge his parking by giving him marks out of 10 (his highest score is 5, even when he parked perfectly and he seemed mentally scarred).  On the plus side, he had once dressed as a dog to raise money for charity, so claimed he knew what it'd take to wear such trousers.  Hmmm.  After practising barking, he left, no wonder Dad thought he was a bit weird, perhaps just a bit 'flamboyant'.  After that, Dad tried to send a picture on his new smartphone, which took what seemed like an eternity and didn't work.  I admired huge fish that locals had caught in the River Esk and hung on the wall in years gone by.

The visiting "Biker Mice from Mars" arrive for a drink

One of many giant fish

On the way back to the car, we cleansed our souls with a trip to the amazingly huge but also amazing village church.

Dad hiding behind some flowers and the crotch of Jesus

I was staying in Naburn for tea so the usual Fox post-pub trip couldn't happen.

Now I'm not saying we went to either/and/or the New Inn at Cliffe & Wadkin Arms at Osgodby, but if we had've done, we may have been offered/seen/taken advantage of free buffets at each.  Okay, so the New Inn might've been packed with footballers from Cliffe and/or Barton Town, the pasties may have been 90% pastry, 10% filling, and the brilliant Wadkin landlord might've heard what beer I was ordering from two miles away, moved us from 2 reserved seats, taken pity on us, and offered us free sandwiches and bhajis whilst Wolves messed up their chance of cup glory.

But all is hypothetical cos it probably didn't happen ...... but here's how it might've looked....

Three more off the list!  Only 6 left in North Yorkshire, and 5 in West Yorkshire to do.  The "completion by end of March" dream is still alive, and I'll be back in some fictional outer Huddersfield village tomorrow, which hopefully has better transport links than Emley.

Good bye, I'm off to see Sutton Utd set up a quarter final defeat against Lincoln City.

Si