The Tan Hill Inn - 1984
No, Orwell didn't include a famous Pennine pub in his dystopian masterpiece. In 1984 my dad visited The Tan Hill Inn for the first time. Next weekend he's planning to return after a gap of nearly twenty years to see what's changed. Here's his description of what it was like then, complete with photos:
"I first visited that Mecca for hill walkers, The Tan Hill Inn, in 1984, during a period of my life when I used to undertake solitary marathon walks, each night making a wilderness camp within striking distance of a pub.
"It was very late in the evening when I arrived at Tan Hill. In fact it was almost completely dark and a hill-fog had set in, making my track across the boggy moors more a case of dangerous guesswork than anything else. You can imagine how relieved I felt when I saw the lights of the Inn gleaming through the gloom. No more welcome sight had I ever seen on all my wanderings!
"Inside I found a roaring fire, good companionship and excellent real ale. Though CAMRA had hardly conquered the world in those days, the innkeeper, Neil, was a true believer and had a number of well-kept casks. The first pint ‘barely touched the sides’.
I fell in with a stout-hearted painter and decorator from Leeds, Stuart, who was celebrating his 50th birthday by doing the Pennine Way. What a character he proved to be! Where is he now, I wonder? Many pints we shifted together as we sat round the fire, the session lasting through to the early hours of the morning when Neil closed the bar.
"He served us a last pint then told us we could doss down in front of the fire until breakfast time. It was a decision he was to earnestly regret. Stuart snored so raucously that Neil came down at 5 am and threw us out to finish our sleep on the moor. Still, there were no hard feelings, as he served us later with a fine breakfast of Cumberland sausage and eggs for a very modest price. Plain fare and good beer, that’s what the Tan Hill Inn was all about in those days. I hope it hasn’t changed".
7 comments:
The Yorkshire Dales offer rich pickings for beer writing, the density of great pubs is staggering!
Absolutely. I'm struggling to think of a pub in the Dales that I don't love. Hmm. Maybe the Talbot in Settle - and that's inder new management.
I once had the best New Year of my life at the Tan Hill. It's a gem.
Unlike some others on the last thread I'm not driven into a frenzy of hate by Stonch's non-beer posts. Having said that these from Papa Stonch are a breath of fresh air.
Oo. I can't wait to hear your dad's report on the Inn. I recently became aware of the pub as it was featured on a television show I encountered while channel hopping.
I like going for walks with a purpose (read 'pub at the end'), as well as going camping somewhere with a bit of a story (read 'lots of pubs to visit'). This pub seems to fit the bill.
Anyone interested in my ramblings can log into my blog "beer, walks and history"
Neil-the-landlord, aka Neil Hanson, was, of course, editor of the Good Beer Guide for several years ...
THe only time I ever went to the Tan Hill (after Neil had left) I drove up there in the evening and when 10pm came realised I didn't have that much petrol in the car ... fortunately I made it down off the moors and to a late-opening petrol station, or I too might have spent the night on the pub floor.
Your Dad's tale reminds me so much of encountering the Flume of Feathers (I think it was called) at Princetown- high up on Dartmoor.
I was cycling end to end in april 2001 at the height of the foot and mouth epidemic. It was running very late into the day and panic wasn't far from setting in. If it wasn't for foot and mouth I would have put the tent down beside the road, but the Dartmoor wardens would have had a few words to say about that in the circumstances.
The large scale map I had didn't show much detail but I headed towards the 'tent' symbol that seemed to be somewhere near Dartmoor prison.
As the road climbed visibility became less and less as the fog drew in.
Then as the lights of Princetown emerged through the fog The pub sign became apparent with a sign on the street pointing to camping 'at rear'.
What a difference 5 minutes makes- soon I was there supping a pint from the on site brewery high up on the moor, shortly to follow with the second ..and so on. Later to roll out to the field behind the pub to pitch up and warm up some food.
Happy times indeed...
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