BRAPA in .... THE GRASSINGTON IS ALWAYS GREENER (ON THIS SIDE OF THE PENNINES)

Thursday 19th June 2025

Before my Gloucestershire liver killer (who sounds like a murderer influenced by the West's) came this perfect midsummer's day trip. I arrive in Skipton to be greeted by BRAPA alumni and chauffeur extraordinaire Ian 'BeyondThePale' Sutton for a trio of ticks in deepest North Yorkshire.

This was quite the departure for proud Lancastrian / Blackburnian Ian, who normally breaks out into a feverish sweat if our car journeys ever takes us east of Accrington, never mind God's Own County.

Our first stop was Grassington, a beautiful little town. But with beauty and high summer comes popularity and just like my first trip here with Daddy BRAPA nine years previous (Foresters Arms) parking the car (best said in Ian's accent) proved tricky. In fact, we may have parked in the exact same spot of the same (only?) car park and had the same wrestle with the same ticket machine of vague instructions.

With the heat keeping most of the Grassy-arses indoors, it was a ghost town of a walk to pub one which rears up atop some steps like a naughty horse ....

Oi Ian wait for me, a bike is trying to run me over

I wouldn't say it made the impression on me that the Foresters had back in 2016, not that there's 'owt wrong with the Black Horse, Grassington (3171 / 5657) - well heeled dining fayre in parts, bulky cool stone walls, a cheerful welcome, goes back a long way (both literally and historically), pretty much everything you'd expect from a well run food pub in rural North Yorkshire. Live music coming up in July from Dave Green .... possibly the same bloke as 'Teams Like Exeter' , listen out for his hit single 'The Steve Flack Shuffle'. I make a big show of ordering the Porter from Settle on this hot day, in a bid to impress everyone, but it doesn't quite work. 'Tis high quality, NBSS B+. Our barmaid gleefully chirrups that she's knocking off at 3pm to sit in the sun and she can't wait. We sit outside too, not a tactic I'm a huge fan of on BRAPA days but here it definitely was the correct call which might say something about the interior. Yet with the occasional passing cyclist dinging a bell, clompy horse or growly tractor, it made for quite an atmospheric experience. Decent start.

But it was today's second (and remotest) pub which really shone.

Before Ian offered me today on a plate, my 'BRAPA public transport research planning' (one of my favourite bits of BRAPA) told me that the best and probably only day to reach this pub by bus was on Sunday, which is almost always the WORST day to take a bus anywhere in this funny little land.

Having worked hard not to park in a space reserved for the staff, we enter a reassuringly rustic old stone pub. Multi-roomed too, cool and dimly lit with that fusty old smell of Dickie Bird's armpit. In a good way. Victoria Inn, Kirkby Malham (3172 / 5658) also knows the difference between a proper pie and a pastry case with a lid, which I cannot stress the importance of oop north. The quality on the Craven Blonde was immaculate, lacings all the way down to the bottom of the glass, NBSS A+, and to think I'd briefly flirted with the idea of a key keg Bad Kitty! I get irritated by those overly done loo signs found mostly in micropubs which read 'men to the left cos ladies are always right' but here was the first time I'd seen 'ladies to the left cos men are occasionally right!' Great stuff. A truly fine pub, I'd highly recommend.

We had to wait until 4pm for our third and final tick to open, though the military precision of Ian's planning meant we were bob on for opening time, despite Bentham being arguably even harder to park at than the other two.

Oi mate, camera's this way!

We ascend some cute steps into the nicely modern/traditional mixture that was Hoggs 'n Heifers, Bentham (3173 / 5659). It felt like a 'trying to cater for all, but actually succeeds at it'. Love the lady behind the bar, she had real star quality, like some Emmerdale Vamp (does Emmerdale have Vamps? Of that I'm not sure). Her and Ian both guilted me into a pint of 6.3% Fell Tinderbox on account of its IPA brilliance (they weren't wrong) NBSS B. I had a right fiasco trying to get to the loos. They were down the stairs, but when I find a bolted door with a sign saying 'footpath ahead closed', I wondered if these were fake jokey loos and the real ones were elsewhere, so I run around fruitlessly for a bit before plucking up courage to ask our star vamp & local, and they got a man with a key to open up, by which point I'd nearly wet my pants. Impressive pub though, I'd been expecting to dislike it. Why? Well, a few years back, I remember a tone deaf April Fools' joke where they pretended they'd been forced to shut permanently due to spiralling costs etc. at a time when a lot of pubs actually were .... but it sort of felt a CAMRA thing to do, you know like putting COVID spores on your beer festival glasses or getting Gary Glitter to write the foreword for the 1973 GBG probably.

So that was the pub ticks done, but I had a brainwave to really end the day on a high.

Ian's plan was to drive me the 40-45 minute ride back all the way to Skipton, so I came up with an idea to suit us both much better as Ribblehead station was only 15 mins.

And that takes us up through Ingleton, home of the only 2024 GBG North Yorkshire pub I failed to tick last year, the OPO (Old Post Office) on account of its late opening times not aligning with when Ingleton buses are running. So the perfect opportunity.

But as we step up for the photo, Ian notices it looks very dark, and there's a removal van just down the road. Like, just literally closed down! Most gutted I'd ever been about a non GBG pub closure.

And following day, I read Birmingham's Post Office Vaults has also just gone. A bad week for pub's with Post Office in the name!

Instead, Ian drops me straight off at the Station Inn, Ribblehead for a quick half before the train. Staff just as disinterested and beer just as poor as it was on my 2013 debut here.

But then the trains are all delayed and with no phone reception, announcements or shade, those waiting with me form quite the nice little 'keep our spirits raised during times of adversity!' group, before when all hope seems lost, a train going Skiptonwards appears on the horizon. Phew!

I manage to limp home via L**ds, thankfully my train ticket wasn't checked cos I'm not sure I was valid (though not strictly my fault). Thanks to Ian, and we already have vague plans for an E Lancs GBG 2026 day hopefully not too far into the future.

I'll aim to be back tomorrow for more rural tales where this bloke called Bernard says 'no Ian, I am the BRAPA #1 chauffeur'' with his longest pub drive yet!

Have a great week, and keep it pub.

Si