The ride from Kingston Upon Hull to York was going to be one of our longest rides – 68 kilometres – but aside from a hill at the beginning of the day, it would be flat. We knew enough to savour the flat profile of that ride because soon enough, we’d be in hilly Yorkshire and ….
We arrived in York after 4-1/2 hours of riding, at “Hedley House“, basically two townhouses connected. There is, apparently a hot yoga room somewhere in there (we’re not yoga people, so that feature was wasted on us.) We were numb after a cold and long ride, but rallied after we changed into warmer clothes, and set out down the street and along the River Ouse, for a walk about.
York Minster doesn’t offer a Choral Evensong on Monday evenings – just prayers and no music – and we had already visited the Minster and all of its offerings on a previous trip to York, anyway, so we skipped it. We kind of meandered aimlessly around town in the Shambles for a while, then decided it was time to find a ‘proper pub’.
What we were looking for is a ‘brewery’ or ‘tied’ pub, which serves only one brewery’s product. (A ‘freehouse’ serves product from any brewery.) Most pubs are now freehouses, with the majority being bought up by large chains such as JD Wetherspoon. An authentic ‘brewery’ pub is either lacking signage denoting ‘freehouse’, or has a placard above the name of the pub showing the name of the brewery.
In John’s visit to York in 1985, freehouses were looked down on by loyal pub customers, but now they dominate. This could be because younger beer drinkers do not favour ‘real ales’, which are served at ‘cellar’ temperature and must be drawn from casks with a hand lever. Artificially carbonated craft and mass-produced beers seem to be taking over. The traditional brewers have lost their grip on the pubs.
We finally found a pub ‘tied’ to a brewery on the nastier side of the River Ouse, and it was perfect. Three or four rough gentlemen watching a cheesy trivia quiz show on the telly, nursing pints and laughing at each other. The pub’s pup was running around with a huge pork bone. Lots of belching from the bartender. The place was just a wee bit filthy. The pint was less than half the cost of the same on the other side of the Ouse. For thirty minutes we didn’t understand a word of the thick Yorkshire accent. The gentlemen politely ignored us. It was perfect, and highly entertaining.
When we got up to leave it was as if they’d known us forever, hoping we’d enjoyed the pint, wondering what we were up to, where we were from, where we were going. It was jolly and keen. We didn’t really understand what they were saying, but lots of smiles, laughs and waves.
I bet if we went back anytime the scene would be exactly the same, and they’d wonder where we’d been.
York is a beautiful city, but we were observing that it may have been the first time we’d seen actual tourists since leaving London almost three weeks ago. Even in this early season the streets are filling up. We tried to be inspired by a city restaurant, but ended up having absolutely delicious homecooked meals prepared by our hotel host, Mandy. (For the record, we had the seabass and the lasagna. See the menu, below.) After the long cold cycle ride and the cold walk it was great to eat (forgot to mention the STP*) and get under the sheets early. At one point in the day, John said, “I’ve been cold since March 26th. (That’s when he left Toronto for his epic, month-long Eastern Bloc train trip with his buddy Ben, and later, Will and Rob.) The weather is supposed to get a little warmer around the 17th, but we’re heading north so…
68.3 kilometres and an unrelenting headwind, and 8400 steps.
*STP: Sticky Toffee Pudding. Mmmmm. British Comfort Food.
