Coast to Coast Folks

CoC-ers ahead

It's probably with some relief for you that I announce at the start of this thread that it's my final words on the subject of Lucky and Me's Coast to Coast walk.

This is about other people; people I came across on the way. Some, most, good, a few dozy, nobody bad, really...

First, a word about other walkers.

Other CtoC-ers near Littlebeck

It happens on almost all long distance multi-day walks that you keep coming across the same people, one day after another. You soon get to recognise their approach by their kit and their company and a comment, a joke, a bit of banter, bordering on camaraderie develops day by day. I met parties of Americans and Australians and people with dogs - there was a black lab, for instance who kept turning up with her owner, and a collie dog. There is no class distinction, we're all in this together (who said that...?) But it's not entirely true.  I met Dave, from Stoke, for instance who, like me, had a big pack and was camping - in fact, our itineraries coincided closely between Borrowdale and the finish. It took me a while to remember his name (I have a problem remembering names) - which is why I can't remember the other lad who had a slight Edinburgh accent and usually arrived just after me and Dave had put our tents up. What glued us together was that we weren't using a luggage-carrying service or other support which most of the walkers were doing. So , despite our friendliness to these lesser beings, there was a certain sense of superiority. I guess it may have worked the other way too, - courier service users may well have doubted the wisdom of carrying such big packs when it wasn't necessary at all....

Outward Bound putting their tents up next to mine

Then there were other walkers on other missions.

Take the Howtown Outward Bound peeps, for instance. Me and Dave had erected our tabernacles widely apart - a bit more than 100 metres, I would suggest, when half a dozen chaps turned up. Relations were friendly at first and we jokingly suggested that they find their own patch of Angletarnside over on "The Island" They weren't allowed to do that announced the Rupert in charge. They had to camp where instructed, which just happened to be next to my akto. In wasn't happy, but put up with the increasing amount of noise and their failure to get a tent up in the space of an hour or collect any water or have a wee, or anything. Then another half dozen arrived, along with a blind lad. And so the process of swamping the akto with little brown tents began. I wasn't happy. Rupert's boss came over to where I was ranting at Dave and said "I understand you're not happy"  And, readers, it was at this point where I had to explain to Leaderess that this statement was indeed, very true. They decided to move. Luckily, representatives of the local mental health emergency on-call team, aware of this urgent development, and leaping into action, went shopping in Penrith (This is what NHS mental health teams do in emergencies)


Outward Bound new camp - apols for the tilt - they sell scotch in Patterdale y'know...

Next, I met a Geordie with a poodle on High Raise. The poodle hated Lucky and Lucky wanted to kill the poodle. The thing was that the poodle had a backpack just like Lucky's. And the Geordie was just as scruffy as me and was off on a few days backpacking. We had a long, long North-Eastern-style chat and then, still strangers, but somehow connected, we parted in a marginally happier mood than before. Except for the dogs who still wanted to fight.

No need for this - loadsa room on the site

And it seems to me that the farmers I met were general tuned-in to coast-to coasters. Some were making some money from it by selling refreshments and so on - and some were doing it in some style - specially Ravenseat who do cream teas, Rukins at Keld, and Intake Farm whereas on the other hand, a couple of the campsites didn't exude friendliness. My impression of Cote Ghyll was of misdirected snootiness where a camping and caravan-site attempts, a bit pathetically, to be posher than it really is, even though its infested with rabbits crapping everywhere and teasing my dog and eeejits who put their tent up too close to mine. And there was that unfortunate incident at Middlewood at RHB involving their refreshment van.

I don't have a pic of the tea-van!

We'd dined there the night before - I'd had some Thai fishcakes and chips - an ideal accompaniment to a gut full of beer, and Dawn had some protein/fat/lard in a bun thing and in the morning whilst off to seek a bus to Whitby, I decided that a breakfast bun at £3.50 would be Just The Thing. And I could use their bin to dispose of the container from the Thai Fishcake thing. I was attempting to get the bin lid off  when a dark and mysterious face appeared saying "Don't put that in there, there's a skip down there"...pointing vaguely towards Middlesbrough.  The boss-lady said it was all right to put the stuff in the bin, but our minimum-wage Saturday-morning job friend glowered darkly in a murderously, seething fashion that, had this been a restaurant, would have had customers walking out. He seemed to be almost growling and he was certainly snarling in a way I'd only seen previously on this walk by a Geordie poodle carrying a set of Ruffwear panniers.. Even Lucky picked up the vibes and raised a hackle or two.  So I walked away, dragging Dawn with me. The breakfast bun is still being fried as far as I'm aware.  I feel marginally guilty about this and should the owner of this franchise contact me, I would gladly submit to her the sum of £3.50. I will increase this to a full fiver if she gets rid of Heathcliffe and sends him back to the job centre,. He's really not cut out for customer service. He'd be better off working in a benefits office dishing out sanctions to people who missed their bus. Or he could do wheel clamping. Or slaughterhouse work. I'm trying to be helpful here.

But most of the pubs and cafe's "get it" and special mentions must go to the village store in Patterdale, The Crown at Shap, Rukins at Keld, The KIng's Arms at Reeth (bless 'em)whatever café it was at Richmond (!), The Lion at Blakey,  Falling Foss Tea Gardens, and, specially Intake Farm at Littlebeck.  There's probably lots of other good places, but they just didn't feature on my walk.

Well, that's about it for the CtoC. In the morning I'm off to High Cup Nick to reccy a guided walk.

But finally, I must add some thanks to Dawn and Andrew and Little Brenda for their donations on the virgin giving site. It all adds up. I'm ever grateful.

Coast to Coast Cafe’s Pubs and Route Comments and Diversions Pt 2







Lucky approaches one of the tops. Not sure which one! Roseberry Topping in the far distance, though





There’s a huge and miserable diversion around the A1 roadworks at Catterick Bridge and I avoided some frisky beef by sneaking around them in another place. Eventually we rolled up at Laylands Farm which, according to the guide, does camping, but they’ve stopped because they want to build a new kitchen where the toilet and showers are. Happily, they let me camp on their lawn, but they probably won’t do this for anybody else, so my advice is not to go there (although they’re quite friendly).

Lucky finds the way

And if you have a dog, it's a dairy farm with lots of inquisitive cows, which you might not enjoy anyway.

I took more cow-avoiding diversions the next day, principally by sticking to the road in a couple of places. I took advantage of the pop left out at Moor House farm and went into the shed for an ice cream – which was lucky because this is when the big hailstorm hit. So me and the dog stayed dry.

Lots of Cows to be avoided

Lucky suspects he's being watched

A1 Motorway upgrading

 

Eventually, I rolled up at Ingleby Cross, after hitting an unusual break or hiatus in the fast-moving stream of A19 traffic, but where the Bluebell Inn was closed for another two hours. They allow camping, apparently, but I was impatient, so pressed on to Osmotherly where I presented myself at the Cote Ghyll caravan and campsite and hostel and bar and other stuff. They chucked me out of reception because they served food (they had some tinned pop in the fridge). My impression was they they were quite a long way up their own bottoms but I accepted a spot Pitch 61 which turned out to be groundsheet-damagingly stony. I did manage to squeeze the akto up to the edge of the pitch. Shortly after pitching we were visited by the campsite’s wildlife in the form of Mrs Duck and her brood of little brown ducks. Lucky considered these as a pre-chewstick snack and bolted after them. Back under tent-arrest, he decided that the cute population of baby rabbits which also infested the place (you can guess than I’m a bit grumpy here, probably..) would also make a fine post-chewstick snack and….

I zipped up the tent and tucked into the fine malt provided by Dawn at Richmond. I had the radio on and ,,drifted…off… and …..  more of this later, too.

Pooch at Lordenshaws

View Indicator shows direction of Pietowers (Weardale)

Joining the ridgewalk/Cleveland Way

 

The next day was the hardest. The task was to follow the Cleveland Way till it turned off for better things and then walk along an old railway line to Blakey Ridge, some 20 miles and 3800 feet of upness later. The first half of this walk is beautiful and lumpy and I could almost see Crook from the hills. A view indicator indicated the direction of Weardale and the Cross Fell/Dun Fells hills could clearly be made out.

And Lord Stones Cafe has bacon rolls, tea and beer and water for the dog – although he can’t go inside. The staff were friendly and helpful, though and I stayed a while even though I got rained on a bit. A bit of a shelter like the have outside some popular Lake District pubs would be a cracking idea for this place.

Retrospect towards Crook

Wainstones for Weaselling

Another retrospect. Never look back or you'll be turned into a pillar of salt. A poor do unless you have a bag of chips

Lucky looking knackerd

 

At Wainstones, the walk gets a little bit rocky, but there's no time to be scrambling about unlike the school party who were, apparently doing some "weaselling" This involved squeezing through holes between the boulders. This is just the kind of thing the Pieman likes to do, and, would have liked to do whilst at New Road County Junior School. But it's too late now. Another group of sproglings out on a school walk enjoyed making a fuss of Lucky and having their faces cleaned of any sweet and sugary substances that may have been smeared there. Lucky is quite good at that.

Dull walking point and fire and turn off the brain

Route by-passes the nice places

 

The second half of the walk is dull. Dull, dull dull. Its like having the Lion Tamer job then being promoted to Circus accountant's part-time clerk. It drags on and on with hardly a contour to disturb the steady blister creating plod. The never-ending plod. It must be horrible, just horrible in the rain and fog. Who’s idea was this? Shirley there must be a better way. Enticingly, there are beautiful dales to be seen to the right and to the left of this brain -devastating tramp. But the route speeds through the countryside as if to try to get it over with. I suppose that diversions into valleys might add a day or two..  and some contours... but also, probably , some more cake and tea...

 



Camping at Lion Inn

Finally; eventually, and only just in time to save the last few braincells from wasting away due to the Lack Of Stimularion  we arrived at the Lion Inn which was heaving with car-borne customers all tucking in to huge meals. They allow dogs inside and they allow camping for £2.50, so I dined there after puttiing up the akto next to Dave's tent and a Dutch bloke's tent. This is where a customer donated half of his T-bone steak to the dog. They’re very efficient at the Lion at dealing with massed customers and the meals have BIIIIG portions and are good value. Its a bit windy, but hey…

In the morning, the tedious road walking in a tedious brown landscape that God seems to have forgotten, or at least given over to chinless ha-ha's for the grouse shooting, continues ever onwards. There are short sections of bridleway but final relief only comes when a path down to Eskdale is taken. In Eskdale, things get much better. The locals are friendly , the sun warms the meadows, the flowers bloom, insects buzz busily and there are shops and tearooms and pubs and tea and cakes and beer and, yes, chips too. I met Dawn in Grosmont and we had tea and cakes at Hazelwood house tearooms which have an outdoor bit where the dog can go. The cake was nice.

Tea and cake welcomes campers at Intake Farm

Playtime 1

Playtime 2

Playtime 3

 

We left for Littlebeck over yet more roadwalking. Eventually, tiring of the tarmac we spotted a bridleway which cut over a heather moor and was a bit shorter than the official route. It was a bit hard to follow at first, but eventually dumped us back on the A169 where another diversion on farm tracks took us to Intake Farm – an oasis of sanity and civility where we camped on the lawn and were greeted with a tray of tea and cake. I meantersay, other places could take a leaf out of Intake Farm’s book on this. I meantersay, tea and cake…. They do B&B too.

Falling Foss

 

The last day started well with a ramble through the woods to Falling Foss waterfall and tearooms where yet more scones and tea were had. They’re very friendly and helpful too, and , being outdoors, it's doggy friendly.

Miles of flat brown

 

After the woods, though, more roads lead to some fairly flat and dull moorland traipsing and starts to cone very close to Robin Hoods Bay before rushing off past it for some cliff-walking. We decided just to go for RHB, and turned up there shorlty afterwards, even after some navigationally incorrect shenanigans on my part which saw us approaching the same point from two different directions. It was soon over. We camped at Middlewood then took a stroll down to the beach and the Bay Hotel, where almost all the customers were sitting outside in the sun. Hard Northern children were immersing themselves in rock pools (brrr) and one tough lass came down the hill on her bike using her bare feet as brakes on the tarmac. Never pick a fight in a Robin Hood's Bay playground is my advice. Just a tip, there, for you.

And that was that, More about Middlewood later, though….

...and rest

 

There’s a few places on the “official” route where improvements could be made, I think. The last thirty miles are sub-standard in my opinion. They’re pretty dull. And hard on the feet. And the choice of Robin Hood’s Bay as a finish seems odd.  Saint Bega – an Irish princess, apparently has no link with St Hilda, who was a member of an Anglian royal family – but an early Christian church link between St Bega of St Bees and St Hilda of Whitby Abbey seems logical and a finish at Whitby abbey with a nice ramble down Eskdale instead of that damned railway line and the driech and flat moors would seem to be a much more attractive proposition. And, as Alf Wainwright suggested – you should really be inventing your own routes.

Dawn takes our picture - RHB, the end

 

But all in all, I enjoyed the walk even though I may never return to it. It has, usefully, confirmed my view that the North Yorkshire Moors aren't really worth the effort of navigating the knipemobile through Middlesbrough to get there and one walk every three years on NYM is quite enough for me, ta.

Maybe, next year, I might try to return to May's TGO Challenge - anhd, for CtoC-ers who have carried their own camping stuff across England, I would say that the CtoC compares well with a TGO chally, apart from the availability of tea and buns on the CtoC.

 

 

Coast to Coast Cafe’s Pubs and Route Comments and Diversions Pt 1



camp at angle tarn

Sorry – this has to be in two parts cos it does go on a bit. If you fall asleep or otherwise drift off into a reverie, I hope you enjoy it – the dreamy sleepy snoozy times, that is… anyway – Part 1 – The First Half up to Bolton on Swale.

And the other thing is that Livewriter's not working so this post, and probabky subsequent ones are written in Blogger. Which isn't as good.

The Coast to Coast walk starts off well at St Bees by heading roughly West for a bit before finally and, apparently reluctantly turning East. I suppose this is OK because the St Bees Head cliffs are interesting and, maybe, actually the start ought to be at St Bees Head…?

Mile Zero Dog 1 (so an away win for dog, there...)

 

Me and the dog went along with this oddity and ended up 12 miles later at Low Cock How farm where we camped in a beautiful semi-wild and superbly sheltered garden where we were entertained overnight by the antics of juvenile hedgehogs and the howling of the wind in the trees. 12 miles is more than enough for me on a first day and my alternative plan of camping by Nannycatch beck would also have been all right, but, maybe a touch breezy.


Camp near Black Sail



Pooch hides under a tree as I sort out the tent

The next section goes along the South Shore of Ennerdale Water and then either over the High Stile ridge or along the road past Black Sail Hut and over to Honister and Borrowdale. My plan was to camp near Black Sail Hut. The weather was foul – damp and drizzly and stupidly windy. The campsite owner advised against the South Shore path in view of the wind in favour of a more sheltered North Shore walk. I thought this was a good idea and so did Lucky, so that’s what we did. I was lead to believe that somebody died on the Ennerdale Fells that day (I can;t find any record of this by the way) and that somebody had also died recently on a CtoC walk along the South shore.(unfortunately this, though, is true) In any case, at Black Sail, I could barely stand up against the wind and my proposed camping spot was exposed to the worst, so I retreated back into the shelter of bits of the forest that hadn’t yet been cleared.


On the way to being demolished by the breeze

In the morning, I was blown over three times on the high crossing to Borrowdale, once into the beck and on another occasion the wind removed my specs for me. I took a Northerly route off the top and contoured round through boulder fields to rejoin the path near the drum house. This route was a lot les windy, which is why I did it. Honister mines provided a nice cuppa and a bacon roll to cheer me up.

I camped at Chapel House Farm and dined at the Riverside Bar where some of the staff remembered Lucky and made a fuss of him.

Eagle Crag Borrowdale (I once lost a pipe up there...)

Day three saw me follow the route properly over Greenup to Grasmere where I shopped at the co-op and found a nice camping spot high up Tongue Gill roughly where I’d predicted the otherwise tilted landscape would provide a place.

Angle Tarn camp

And then on Day 4, I followed the low route to Patterdale where the shop supplied a huge cumberland sausage butty, doggy bix and water for the dog and sweeties and whisky for my in-tent entertainment. I camped in a lovely spot by Angle Tarn along with some Taliban and Dave from Stoke. More of the Taliban later.

On the way to Rampsgill Head

 

Day 5 was a big diversion. I followed the proper path to the main ridge then diverted over Rampsgill Head and High Raise and High Kop, descending to the Haweswater Dam, thus having an easy and wind-assisted walk on springy turf whilst avoiding the rubbly switchback of the Haweswater shore path. Further diversions for speed, ease, and to avoid naughty-looking moo cows involved using the concrete water board road which goes almost to Keld and then by lanes and footpaths to Shap. Here was Dawn who somehow had predicted my Shap approach. The B&B, whom I won’t name for fear of embarrassing her, didn’t take dogs (Dawn had persuaded them to accept Lucky) and thought that Lucky was “smearing” himself on her carpet. Shap is generally very friendly, though, has an excellent chippy providing a high standards of fishy, chippy and mushy peasy delights and a special doggy mention goes to The Crown Inn which is very doggy friendly, where staff made a fuss of the pooch and provided water and where I could have had a meal had I not already been full of Fish and Chips and Mushy Peas. The Crown Inn had been dismissed by our landlady as being “villagy”. Whatever that means. Pah! I liked it. I’ll probably go back.

 

According to Lucky, this is a limestone pavement. But I meantersay, what do dogs know about carboniferous geology?

Onwards and sideways – next day was a longish stretch over limestone countryside which is a touch on the dull side if I’m honest, for a camp at Smardale. I’d considered bashing on to Kirkby Stephen but Lucky voted for Smardale by curling up and going to sleep there. Its a nice place to camp anyway.

Stone Man. Fluffy dog

 

Nine Standards

I met Dawn again in Kirkby Stephen but stayed only long enough to shop before cracking on over Nine Standards to Keld. I stayed on Rukins campsite which was heaving with people camping by the river, but, by following Dave from Stoke, we camped in a sheltered spot in an empty field. Rukins sold beer and provided a bacon roll breakfast next morning and let the dog sit with me in the cafe. Ten points for Rukins is what I say. Woof is what the dog says.

Lucky smears himself on the caravan seat

A group of Australian CtoC-ers approaching Swinner Gill

 

Whichever day was next saw me and Lucky steaming over to Reeth the next day where we rehydrated at the King’s Arms, where they like dogs and are very friendly and the Orchard Caravan and Camping Park put me up in an old, battered but cosy caravan for the same price as camping, which was just as well because it siled down all night. Mrs Pieman attended with fresh undies etc and we dined back at the King’s Arms cos we like it there. There was farmer-style dialect talk of “snaw” on t’fells…. at the bar. (They can’t fool me by talking dialect coz I iz from Yorkshire, init?) (For southerners, the “t” is not actually sounded, but it does have a sort of sound which you can;t detect, but which northerners can, so we know when you’re trying to fake a northern accent see?)

Retrospect to Richmond

Lucky drags me through the wild garlic

There followed a long walk down Swaledale for another meet-up with Dawn and a cafe which let the dog in whilst we had teasted toecakes and tea – and provided water and a fuss for the dog. Unfortunately the name of the place escapes me, but it does have a “dogs welcome on the ground floor” sign outside. After shopping, I accidentally abandoned my walking pole outside the co-op and bashed on to Bolton-on-Swale. A chap walking his dog by the river continued along the riverside where the CtoC route goes off through some mud and up a busy main road and then back to the river, where this chap and his dog turned up again. It seems there’s a route along the riverbank and this would avoid car fumes and cow muck if taken.

More follows shortly…………

lick this clink

Click and give ( a quid will do….)

Wainwright’s Coast to Coast With Lucky The Dog

Observant Pieblog readers may well have noticed several hints in the Pieblog that me and Lucky have been walking the English CtoC route (the Alf (what’s that girl doing in my socks?) Wainwright one.

This went well – specially in terms of the fact that we started at the start and finished at the end and didn’t cheat very much in between.

And you’re expecting a trip report very much on the lines of the TGO reports – you know – Day One, got up, ate porridge, walked a lot, put tent up in the rain and went to sleep till ….Day 2…  got up, ate porridge….   But no, not on the Pieblog – based on the assumption that you can get details of the route and various accounts of people’s walks on line and that such accounts often, or at least, sometimes do go on a bit and there’s be fourteen days of it and , AND, mind you, I have a life and so have you.

So, instead, I just thought I’d do a few blog posts about Lucky’s adventures and the kindnesses shown to him, how friends and family helped with the canine feeding regime logistics; another post about the route and how good it is in some places and how absolute bollix it is in other places and a few small but useful diversions or alternatives; a selection of pictures and my adventures whilst meeting pillocks. All this whilst I get on with getting on with High Cup Nick, a return to the Ingram Tumps and walks at Rothbury.

Those considering taking their pooch on a multi-day walk might (or might not) find some of this stuff useful.

Lucky, of course, had been kitted out with a set of panniers, in which , almost every day, people declared him to be “cute” and go “ah, look, has he got all his stuff in there? What he did have in his panniers was up to four days supply of Bakers doggy kibble (1.2 kg in all), some empty poo bags – occasionally one full poo bag (care required!) a spare short lead and some dentasticks, bonios, and a cycle lock to be used as a security device, as suggested by Geoff Crowther who is currently cycling from Land’s End to John O’ Groats. He also carried two fabric doggy dishes – one for dry food and one for water. The water dish leaked, unfortunately but he seemed to prefer slightly warmed water from my Primus kettle thingy anyway and this was easier and more stable.

Each day several people commented on the dog with the panniers and how cute and/or lovely he was. This did get a bit wearing after a couple of days. Several made a fuss of him (he liked this) and others donated their own dog’s doggy treats (Lucky liked this, too). He also attracted the attention of other dogs who could easily detect his food supply. The most persistent were spaniels (who would have guessed?). This almost lead to several fights. One farmer stood in the middle of the road on the Flat Bit In The Middle and asked if the bags were where he kept his money. At least a dozen people took photos of him.

I was careful not to load him with more than 10% of his body weight. This was just a guess, but it meant that anything over 1.6 kg was carried by yours truly. This is four days food, the panniers and the other stuff.

And one person, after we’d entered the Lion Inn at Blakey to drink beer and enquire about camping, was, apparently greeted and tail-wagged by an exhausted Lucky – after 20 miles and 3800 feet of contours, gave him half of his T-Bone steak – food which he didn’t quite recognise as food at first and which he spat out, but ate after I’d demonstrated what to do with it.[koff]

A woman in Robin Hood’s Bay appeared from her bungalow with a bowl of water for Lucky

For scoff, he had 300 grammes of doggy food per day and he didn’t eat all of this at once, but “grazed” during the night, once making me think we had a badger in the tent due to the snuffling and crunching in the dark night.

Cattle were a problem on a few occasions. Some were uninterested, specially the galloways on the moors. Dairy cows were over-interested and sucklers were a nightmare. We took a few diversions and some sneaky routes just out of sight. On a few occasions, the cattle just happened to be looking the other way. We enjoyed bullying our way through a herd of calves.

Lucky wasn’t really very fit when we set off and would be running out of steam by early afternoon. When this happens he digs nests when we stop and curls up to have a nap. By the second week he was bouncing around in the mornings, clearly enjoying the trip. He was pretty quiet for the first few days and I think he was a bit stressed about what was happening, but by the end he’d really got into the routine and emerged two weeks later with no apparent damage at all, apart from , maybe half a kilo or so of weight loss.

I carried a piece of karrrimat and he slept on this on my Rab anoraky thing and underneath a Berghaus down gilet. He likes the tent and once in place on his bed, doesn’t move again till he’s dragged out next morning.

Dog food is a problem for the unsupported walker. 14 days at 300 grammes per day would have been a huge 4.2 kg – too much for either me or the dog to carry and re-supply in buyable and carriable amounts would have been a problem. This was solved by Dawn who brought pre-packed bags of dog food to Shap, Kirkby Stephen, Richmond and Grosmont, where she joined me for the last day and a bit – plus other essentials such as gas and dehydrated food. Mrs Pieman also delivered dog food, plus fresh undies, socks, fleece and legging thingies to Reeth and The Bro, Mrs Bro and June (with whom I attended New Road County Junior School Earby and nostalgicated with about the eleven times table ) visited Shap for the drinking of beer and some jollifications.

During the walk he learned that if he ignores sheep and lambs properly, he gets a tasty treat, so he put on a special “I am ignoring those lambs” expression whenever we came across them. He failed to ignore rabbits, grouse and pheasants, though, barked and growled at cattle and horses and randomly got quite feisty with dogs, or playful with other dogs, with no apparent reason or logic which was humanly detectable.

 

Without some kind of logistical support, this walk would have been quite difficult, I think, and it may be, that unsupported, I could manage four to six days.

Bur I’m chuffed, and, even gruntled to have done the walk, and so is Lucky. And I’m grateful, specially to Dawn, who put a lot of effort and thought into the supporting role – and extra specially for the additional supplies of fine malt which were more than appreciated.

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