Showing posts with label caledonian brewery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label caledonian brewery. Show all posts

Friday, August 12, 2016

#WestHighlandWay - A Drinker's Guide Part 2

Now....where were we? Ah yes that's right, Inversnaid. Having breakfasted at the superb Top Bunk Bistro, a fry up that included the world's greatest black pudding (from Stornoway for the unsure), we got a lift back down to the West Highland Way and continued our venture north.

The section of the Way from Inversnaid to the end of Loch Lomond was probably the single most trying part of the hike. It's not steep, it's not difficult to follow, it's not even a study in uninspiring countryside, nope it's just a narrow gauge rollercoaster with trees to the right and Loch Lomond to the left. It's almost claustrophobic, so that when you come out into the open expanse around Ardleish it's quite liberating to be done with the Loch, and then a few miles on you come to Inverarnan.

As you walk along the Way you can see The Drovers Inn from about a mile away, it teases you as the path drifts away and you wonder if you will ever arrive at the village, and then you arrive at Beinglas Farm and see this sign.


Suddenly all thoughts of walking an extra couple of miles for a pint and a feed go right out of your head and your feet throb just enough to say something along the lines of 'sod it, let's eat here' and you fall into a cozy little lounge bar, pretty empty, and you rejoice because a beer you love is on tap, and it will be the first time you have had it on draft.


I refer of course to Harviestoun's magnificent Bitter & Twisted, which is one of the inspirations for Bitter 42, the best bitter that I designed for Three Notch'd Brewing here in Virginia. Sure I've had it from the bottle many a time, but never before fresh from the tap, and what a revelation it is stripped of the abuses of bottling and long distance haulage, cleaner, crisper, hoppier, more delightful. So I had a couple with which to wash down my food, while Mrs V and I struck up a conversation with a Czech girl called Zuzana and the English guy she was hiking with, whose name escapes me.

By the time you are happily refreshed, the rain is looking ominous again, but when you aren't camping and have a B&B room waiting for you in Crianlarich, you just have to keep on going. The hike along the River Falloch was lovely going, despite the rain, and the mud, and the sheep shit, and the Mrs V suppressing her inner urge to hug on every form of livestock along the way whilst simultaneously being unnerved by the size of the sheep. The constant distant buzz of the A82 reminds you that civilsation isn't all that far away, and after another 4 hours plodding along, playing leap frog with families and couples that you end up on nodding terms with, you come to the side trail down the hill to Crianlarich, the Gateway to the Highlands.


Being Mrs V and I's 8th wedding anniversary I had naturally booked the smallest room in Crianlarich, old charmer that I am. Said room was at the inestimable Craigbank Guest House, a place I happily, and heartily, recommend to anyone looking for a room in Crianlarich. Obviously, being our anniversary I took Mrs V for a slap up meal to mark the auspicious occasion, to the pub next door, The Rod and Reel, where I saw a tap I had not seen in many a year, for Younger's Tartan Special.


I ignored the Tartan Special and went for the bottled Bitter & Twisted while Mrs V stuck with her cider, and eventually a hot toddy because she was starting to feel crappy. On a tip from Paul at Craigbank Mrs V had the chicken curry, while I went for an treat I loved at school, macaroni cheese and chips. Little side story, when I was a kid at school back home in Uist, the canteen had a weekly vegetarian day, it was on those days that discovered the delights of macaroni cheese and chips, with chips drenched in salad cream, I guess we all have weird things we loved as kids. Anyway, while it may have been the smallest room in Crianlarich, it was also a damned comfortable one, and the breakfast in the morning was a belter.

The next morning, Mrs V's birthday no less, we trudged back up to the trail, my right foot was starting to develop a magnificent blister, right on the tip of my pinky toe, which made getting going a little uncomfortable. Once momentum was gained though it didn't bother me all that much, and the walking was simply glorious as we made our way toward the Tyndrum Hills and the eponymous village, which has long been a stopping off point for my family on the drive north.

The Tyndrum Inn is a large yellow building that is simply impossible to miss, and it's public bar is an annex to one side. It was practically empty when we arrived, and so we leaned out packs against the bar and took seats facing the tap handles. I was in the mood for lager, I know you are shocked dear regular reader, and so ordered the Caledonian Three Hop, whose tap was beading profusely, and the dark golden liquid came in a branded mug. The beer itself was pretty good, though it became flabby as it got warmer, but I was drinking slower than usual so maybe that didn't help. However, the sweet potato and carrot soup was a corker that stoked a warming glow ahead of another 7 miles as we headed to Bridge of Orchy.


Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy was probably my favourite 7 miles of the hike to be honest, beautiful scenery and a good track underfoot so that my blister didn't bother me too much. We didn't go anywhere for a drink during our stay in Bridge of Orchy. The B&B we stayed in, Taransay Cottage, also did an evening meal by request in advance and so we shared a couple of bottles with the owners before turning in for the night.

There were three more days of hiking to come, and not one of them promised a midday pint, though plenty of evening drinking, so we'll leave that for next time....

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Where Good Fellowship Reigns

It was a glorious day, as many of the preceding 20 had been. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and we were sat on the early morning bus from Inverness to Glasgow. It was time to make the long trek back to our little corner of Virginia, and after 4 hours of beautiful Scottish countryside drifting past the window we were in Glasgow. Minor side note, while the A9 has an atrocious, and thoroughly deserved, reputation as something of a death trap, it is also one of the most stunningly beautiful roads I have ever travelled on.

I have always had something of a soft spot for Glasgow, I love the architecture, the vibrant city centre, and I have loads of Glaswegian friends. Although I have never spent more than a few days in the city at a time, I have enjoyed many an excellent drinking session in the city's pubs. When we were planning our few hours in Glasgow city centre, I tweeted for advice on the best places near Buchanan Street bus station for a feed and a drink. I had originally wanted to make it out to WEST, but decided that I would rather spend the time downing pints of real ale. Several answers came back, but I knew pretty much straight off where we would be spending our afternoon. We wandered to the edge of the city centre, through the crowds for the Commonwealth Games, under the M8, and having proven again that navigation by pub is a universal, into pub heaven.


The  Bon Accord is unassuming, unpretentious, wood laden, and clearly a place for serious drinkers, who know their onions when it comes to the delights of malted barley, whether as beer or whisky. Mrs V and I found a couple of seats at the bar, and got our first drinks in, Cromarty's Hit the Lip for me, and Kronenburg 1664 for her, in her defense she hadn't noticed the Budvar in the fridge, once the Kronenburg was done she was Czech for the afternoon. I would have stuck quite happily with Hit the Lip had I not polished off the last of the cask, did I mention yet that there we 10 hand pulls arrayed on the bar? With no more Cromarty beer to keep me company, a Caledonian Brewery Summer Valley filled the gap while I pondered what to have next.


One of the things I love about pubs is the people you meet, the random conversations with folk you are unlikely to ever meet again, whether the older gent doing the crossword next to Mrs V, the Patrick Thistle fan with whom I discussed the upcoming independence referendum (a conversation I pointedly avoided with my family), and most of all, with Paul, the owner. It's difficult, if not impossible, to describe Paul as anything other than a man of the world, urbane, sophisticated, and a mine of knowledge of whisky and beer. It was fantastic to just sit and chat the many pleasures of the demon drink. It was Paul that recommended I try the Kelburn Dark Moor. Oh. My. Goodness. What a beer Dark Moor is, served in tip top condition, a wonderfully complex, irresistible mild.


We ended up spending the best part of 5 hours at the Bon Accord before heading back to the bus station to pick up our bags and head out to Renfrew and our hotel for the night. 5 hours of superb, well kept, beer, supreme service, stimulating conversation, and an all day breakfast to die for. The Bon Accord is a must visit when in Glasgow, and the kind of pub that if I ever had my own, would be the role model.

Beyond January

Dry January is over, but my beer fast continues. Well, it continues until Friday. As a general rule I only drink at the weekend, thus my win...

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