After a very pleasant first ramble in the Peak District we arrived back in the small hamlet of Crowden and were informed by our man in the know, Sir Edmund, that there was a pub. He then revised this to there wasn’t a pub…I beg your pardon Sir Edmund??? No! what now??
So after a quick check with his pal Gordon, he decided we could head out on the road to Tintwistle, where Gordon indicated there was definitely a pub, or we could head back on the route whence we came and stop at the first pub we happened across. With Tintwistle in the opposite direction to home, it was unanimously decided (by the women, as per usual, and we concurred at least, as per usual) that we would head back and sample whichever was the first pub we arrived at. So off we went, up the roller coaster ascent of the A6024 and coming down the other side, we came to Holme, and as luck would have it, The Fleece Inn. Parking at the rear seemed to bit a little cramped, especially if the Range Rover besides us had to get out before me, I was a tad concerned he might take my passenger wing with him…
Hey ho, I would worry about that upon leaving, first we had to grab a beverage or three…
As luck would have it, The Kirklees Way passes right through Holme, and there seemed to be a fair smattering of walkers either passing through or calling in. Upon entering the bar we were greeted by pleasant bar staff and a friendly landlord. They had signs dotted about advertising various different themed food nights, and we were also confronted, on draught, by several exotic sounding ales, my personal favourite being Boondoggle! But being the boring heathens that we are, it was lagers, pop and crisps all round…
There were about half a dozen tables out front between the pub and the road, and despite there being masses of room inside, we plumped for the outdoors. Well it was a glorious Saturday and we were still having some great October temperatures so why not. It seemed such a shame we had taken food with us again, as once more, the food here seemed top notch. We snaffled a menu with a view to coming back one day, but that didn’t stop the women partaking in their new found pastime of judging the establishments chips (fries for the young and/or uneducated). It seems the qualities they look for are chunkiness and gourmetness, ahem…
The way they each raced through their £2.50 worth would indicate a seal of approval, which pretty much sums up the pub all round. A lovely place to stop at and have a beverage, and yet another on the must-come-back-and-stay-longer-next-time list.
Oh and the Range Rover had left before us, but the trusty old Passat was still intact…well as intact as it was upon arriving.
You had best check with Sir Edmund on the bar prices however, he is a generous chap you know…
Review submitted by
Beaky
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