After a family friend’s 60th last Saturday Clare & I decided to act particularly middle-aged and use the ‘50 Walks in West Yorkshire‘ book my mum got us for Xmas. We decided it doesn’t take much to get out & enjoy the lovely Yorkshire countryside (excluding serveral snooze presses and LOTS of caffeine), so we consulted mum for a walk that ended at a tasty gastro-pub (of which she’s a walking encyclopedia), and drove out to the village of Farnely Tyas.
We’d detoured via an miss-tapped SatNav postcode into an impressivly rough Huddersfield council estate (my bad) that clearly wasn’t an idyllic West Yorkshire village. But at 11am we passed the closed pub and hit the trails…
I’ve decided again to play faded 70’s photo processing on the pix. No doubt it’ll be a fad, but I rather like how they feel.
Clare in her hot pink £6 Primark walking coat.
I do believe we climbed 84 styles.
Castle Hill, with the Victoria Tower atop. There was a detour on the walk to climb that, but we were starting to think the words ‘gastro’ & ‘pub’ by then.
A cheeky beck.
Style over content?
Shot from the hip 1
Shot from the hip 2. Not all turn out to be much cop.
One of two friends we made on the trip.
The other, an excitably bouncy little fellow who we couldn’t decide if he suited Colin or Gordon.
Either way he walked with us for about 10 minutes, much to the bemusement of his farmer owner, who had to treck up and collect him.
West Yorkshire and excellent skies
Ahhhh, FOOD! Now we’re talking. 2hrs walking and we’re ready for…
WHAT!? You sure??
Denied.
What a start to the ‘Walks that end at a good pub’ series.
So I rang me mam. “Are you near your AA good pub guide?…”
And across the way we drove to Hepton to the Butcher’s Arms. A pub cheffed by Raymond Blanc protege Timothy Bilton…
…a chef it turns out I was once commissioned to photograph out at Skyes Farm. He’s a cool guy and represented the North East region in The Great British Menu 2010. It was kinda bizarre seeing one of my portraits in their promotional literature!
But his grub certainly was up to scratch.
Just what the doctor ordered, a rare doorstop of local rib-of-beef.
Washed down with a Sam Taylors Golden Best.
When we got home, the last thing I felt like was setting up the Sunday Service gig, so took a quick powernap to recharge the cells before heading out.
I’m not sure this’ll be the last of the good pub visits. Might skip the walk next time though…