It seems November 1976 was a low point for beer drinkers in Devon...

I blogged here a couple of weeks ago about a fascinating old photograph I found in a 50-year-old book, of a beer brewer in Cornwall, and I went on to speculate about a possible lost golden age of ultra-local ale brewing in the Westcountry, admittedly with scant evidence to bolster my daydreaming.

The book suggested that a thriving beer culture had been wiped out between 1909 and 1959 and replaced by big breweries or nothing at all. The situation then, perhaps, was much worse than it is now, with a number of micro breweries in places like Devon, and new ones starting up all the time (Forge in Hartland, Wizard in Ilfracombe; both making fine beer).

In the same vein, this week I dug out my old paperback copy of Richard Boston's Beer and Skittles, a superb work of journalism about beer and brewing. It was written in the mid-1970s, just as Camra was starting to make noises about the vandalism of our pubs and beer. This was the era when keg lager and keg "bitter" was in the ascendency. Older readers than me might remember something called Watney Red Barrel, perhaps?

In Boston's "pubman's gazetteer", written in November 1976, he says that Cornwall, Devon, Dorset and Somerset is "cider country" and "the area as a whole is low in choice as far as beer is concerned." He says Devon does not have a single independent brewery and most of the beer is Courage, Whitbread and Devenish. He says North Devon is "Watney country" and there are few pubs in West Devon because of the influence of the temperence movement there. Some 30 years later, we are clearly far better served with breweries, many of which have been established in the past 10 years or so. We could well be entering a new golden age of local beer...

Boston mentions the Blue Anchor, which I saw in my picture book, and says this: "Geoffrey Richards represents the third generation of his family to brew at the Blue Anchor, which was bought by his grandfather more than 100 years ago. There are two very strong Spingo bitters, as well as special strong brews at Christmas and Easter."

I am delighted, and relieved, to find the following on the Blue Anchor's website:

The Blue Anchor is one of the oldest original Inns in Britain that continues to maintain a working brewery. Dating back to the 15th century, the Inn boasts 600 years of brewing. Originally a monks' rest house, which produced a strong honey based mead, it now produces a variety of 'Spingo Ales' to traditional recipes.  

The Inn still retains its original character and has no slot machines or piped music. However, live music is often performed in the skittle alley or main bars.  A major feature of the Inn, is the large garden to the rear, with its own bar and BBQ.

Landlords Simon and Kim Stone have been custodians of the Inn since 1993 and have sympathetically improved the brewery, kitchen, skittle alley and beer garden without changing the character or appeal of the Inn.

Blue Anchor website

Pub fanatics name their favourite boozers in North Devon and Torridge...

The best pubs in North Devon — according to the votes of local real ale fans — have been revealed in a new guidebook.

The pubs are contained in the Campaign for Real Ale’s Good Beer Guide 2010, which is published today.

There are 19 inns, alehouses and pubs in North Devon and Torridge in the guide, as well as five local breweries.

In Barnstaple, two pubs are singled out for praise: The Panniers, in Boutport Street, and The Rolle Quay Inn, on Rolle Quay.

The Panniers is a popular town centre Wetherspoon’s pub, whose landlord is Alan Young. Camra and Wetherspoon’s have a friendly relationship nationally.

The pub giant gives all new and renewing Camra members £20 worth of real ale vouchers to spend in its pubs.

The St Austell Brewery-owned Rolle Quay, next to the River Yeo, is described as a “spacious, well-run, two bar pub” which is handy for the local rugby and football grounds. The landlord there, Chris Bates, is a previous local Camra Pub of The Year winner.

Camra describes its guide as a “masterpiece of local democracy”, because the entries are chosen by local Camra groups.

The guide states: “We begin with the beer. Not roses round the pub lintel, Turkish carpets, sun-dried tomatoes, drizzled olive oil and the temperature of the oak-aged Chardonnay. The guide is committed to pub architecture, history, food, and creature comforts. But, for us, the beer always comes first.

“It has always been our belief that if a publican looks after the cask beer in the cellar then everything else in the pub — from welcome, through food, to the state of the toilets — are likely to receive the same care.”

In April the North Devon Camra branch announced that the Hunters Inn in Heddon Valley was its pub of the year, closely followed by the Castle Inn, in Combe Martin.

Some pubs have been struggling to survive in recent times, with many landlords complaining that the pub companies which own many pubs are squeezing them with higher rents and “tied” drinks prices far more expensive than normal wholesale costs.

There have also been dramatic changes in the pub industry in the past ten years, with the emergence of “gastro pubs” and the popularity of cheap supermarket alcohol.

Politicians, including North Devon MP Nick Harvey, have called for changes in the law to help save our pubs from decimation.

An unpretentious country pub offers hope

We headed east first, through one of Barnstaple's housing estates, with a fast-setting sun behind us, before wheeling on in to the crepuscular North Devon countryside.

Blocks of flats and prim lawns gave way to sheep-cropped hills, which were greenish then greyish, as a late-summer day turned into an early-autumn night. The thousands of people living in the pub-less housing estate were nowhere to be seen and the country lanes only carried people in motor cars, until we, two pub fanatic outriders, appeared on push bikes, catching flies.

I was keeping a quiet lookout for head-skimming bats, my favourite type, but the only wild beasts on the loose seemed to be unusually-gigantic black birds, which were flying low, indistinct and secretive behind the lowering hedgerows. I thought of a creature I had seen on the Taw estuary earlier that day which looked like a small dinosaur.

For what felt like the first time in months, no rain was falling from the sky. It's uphill as you go north east towards Goodleigh from Barnstaple on the road but the cycling was relatively easy, thanks to the never-ceasing westerly gale which has made the summer months such a joy in the Westcountry this year. My Adam's Ales friend had forgotten to put his lights on his bicycle, so I rode in the rear, illuminating him and the entire road with an unnatural white glow.

His bike was about 30 years younger and £300 more expensive than my old iron horse and he easily sped off on the downhill run. He must have topped 40mph at one point and I feared for his life as he took a sharp right bend without touching his brakes. I cooled it on the corner, having spotted a constabulary vehicle at the junction.

We went to Goodleigh specifically to visit the New Inn, which is listed in this year's Camra Good Beer Guide as a "traditional old village inn" where a "warm welcome" awaits. The New Inn is also know for its good food. So far in this beer odyssey I have been to more town pubs than country pubs, and have, in Barnstaple at least, not been overly pleased with what I have found. Stale corporatism and board room uniformity has infected our public house cultural treasures like woodworm burrows through an old village church.

Like many people, I often turn to the country pub for sanctuary. But the money wizards and pubco vandals, not to mention Taxman, have been playing merry hell with our rural pubs for decades; what good is left? Will places like the Goodleigh local offer any cause for hope?

We put out bikes in the beer garden, wiped the sweat off our faces, and went inside, thirsty as fat men on a merry-go-round. The pub was empty save for a handful of local people, including two well-behaved children, at the bar. The pub did not appear to have been modernised, or "ruined" as I prefer to say, so, like most good old pubs, it was unpretentious and comfortable.

You know you are in a good local when conversations start easily among strangers and the New Inn is that sort of place. There was no fruit machine, jukebox, piped music, or television. The windowframes were made of wood. I felt as if the pub had got to its current state by a long and friendly process of careful and intelligent use by human beings. When I walk in to a McPub I generally get the impression the pub has got to its current state by a brief and ruthless process of careless and shortsighted planning by beancounters emboldened by computer models.

The only small downside was a lack of Devon ale. We drank Cornish Jack, a light, thirst-quenching beer, which is made by Sharp's. This clearly did not fit the "local beer" category, but it was fine, robust, and supremely tasty ale, ideally suited for cyclists and all manner of professional outdoor sportsman. When I went to get the second round, two men were talking about keeping chickens and growing vegetables. If the New Inn was my local, I would be delighted and, more importantly, would make the effort to spend my beer money there.

It is wise to avoid drawing hyperbolic conclusions about the fact that such a very good pub was almost empty on a clear-skied Saturday night in early September; maybe it was just a quiet night. As I later hurtled home through the dark lanes, I hoped the villagers hadn't gone to the Wetherspoon's in Barnstaple, which I knew would be crammed, and which also features, as the vanguard of corporate mediocrity and local dominance, in Camra's Good Beer Guide 2010.

A couple of ales apiece refreshed, and after a discussion about the psychological implications of seeing UFOs, it had been time to leave, with no small sense of reluctance. When we took our pint pots back to the bar, everyone said goodbye.

New Inn, Goodleigh, North Devon

Adam's Ales Rating: 4 out of 5

Drink this: Sharp's Cornish Jack, 3.8%

Wilshaw stumbles on an intriguing suggestion of a "hidden beer history" for the Westcountry...

Leafing through a book called Devon and Cornwall in Pictures, which was published in 1959, I found an interesting photograph of the Blue Anchor Hotel in Helston, Cornwall.

The picture, apparently of a man in an apron in a beer cellar, caught my eye because it gives one viewpoint of how breweries were faring in those counties at that time, a full half a century ago.

The entry from the book, which was published by Odhams Press, London, reads: "Beer brewing as a local craft was once a feature of life throughout the Duchy of Cornwall.

"There are records of many inns which brewed their own beer, and scores of big farmhouses from end to end of the county were similarly self-sufficient.

"During the last 50 years (that is: since 1909) almost all the inns serving home-brewed beer have been taken over by the big breweries or have at least ceased to make their own brews, until now it is said that the only remaining house of its kind is that in which the picture on the left was taken, the Blue Anchor Hotel at Helston.

"The brewer is drawing off a sample from one of the great vats in which the beer is brewed at this old inn."

If this summary is accurate, and I can't be 100% certain it is, then by the early 1960s, say, an entrenched and highly localised beer culture was obliterated in Cornwall. It follows that if it happened there, it probably happened in Devon too. I find this an extraordinary and intriguing suggestion, not least because an entrenched and highly-localised beer culture is my idea of an idyll on planet Earth, which could be splendid for tastebuds and the environment alike.

I, a bitter-drinking northerner by birth, had always been led to believe that this was cider country, which, to some extent, it certainly was, and still is.

But I do very much like the idea of this "hidden history" of beer brewing and I'd really love to find out more. What type of grain did they use? And what about hops? Wild hops? No hops?

Whether or not any of this farmhouse beer was anything but revolting, of course, is another story. But it can't have been much worse than the can of sweet Marston's Pedigree I had last week.

Pub landlord celebrates new boozer - by getting baptised

A pub landlord has marked the start of his new life in Appledore with a baptism in the River Torridge, the North Devon Journal reports.

John Tompkins was baptised by the vicar of St Mary’s Church, Rev John Ewington.

John, a former chartered accountant has, with his business partner, just taken over The Champion of Wales pub in Appledore after moving to North Devon from Sussex.

He said: “I’m new to these parts and have had a bit of a journey in the past year. I was about 70% Christian before but am going the whole hog now.

"I thought the baptism would be a way to celebrate my new life in the village. I’m just over 60 and want to spend the rest of my life doing good things."

The remains of the George Hotel in Hatherleigh have raised hundreds of pounds for firefighters...

The remains of the George Hotel in Hatherleigh have raised hundreds of pounds for firefighters, the North Devon Journal reports.

The 600-year-old pub started to "rise from the ashes" earlier this year with some help from local potter Jane Payne, of Hatherleigh Pottery, who came up with the idea of creating pots and glazing them - using ruins salvaged from the historic pub.

She has already raised more than £200.

Together with her husband Mike, Jane managed to recover some of the smaller pieces of badly charred timber when the pub, which dated back to 1450, went up in flames at Christmas.

More than 100 firemen from across the county were drafted in to help fight the blaze at the coaching inn which was still burning well into the early hours of Christmas Eve.

Jane and Mike were among the crowds watching in horror as the listed building burnt to the ground.

They were re-burnt in the couple’s woodburning stove and then sieved when cold and ground fine with a pestle and mortar. The ash was mixed with a transparent base glaze which covered the small pots.

Jane said: “I was being very cautious because of the limited amount of ash but they all came good when they went into the gas kiln and I was absolutely delighted with the result.”

The £2.5 million rebuild of the George is due to begin in October.

Among the keep fit fanatics, I attend a festival of many local ales

The idea of holding a beer festival in a temple of fitness certainly appealed to me.

While the keep-fit-on-Friday-night bods were humping bits of iron about and whacking little balls at each other, you could be sipping a fine ale, watching the sun set over a particularly swollen Spring tide (who WAS that man on the big boat with the large beard?).

And why not? Friday evenings gurning in Lyrca are not my idea of fun. (Official medical note: you will die younger if you don't do some form of regular exercise, which can include a weekly moderate session of beer-drinking).

In the cafeteria area of the North Devon Leisure Centre there probably wasn't enough beer to fill a swimming pool, but there was certainly enough to replenish a large outdoor bath: 40 brews, and only 18 not local. I thought back to the recent North Devon Show which had no North Devon beer in its beer tent.

I was accompanied by two cheerful comrades who each voluntarily opted to drink cider. None of our party wore beards that evening, although we had briefly toyed with the idea of wearing heavy hairy disguises. As my companions were both women, the disguises might have come across as jovial, rather than serious, attempts to blend in, so we didn't go incognito in the end. 

I drank some good North Devon beer. Again, the Wizard brewery from Ilfracombe seemed to offer something special; its Lundy Gold (4.1%) was clear, refreshing, bitter, and satisfying. Second best was probably Country Life's Golden Pig (4.7%), which is such a startlingly friendly and summery drink that you would probably feel like a fizzly golden piglet after a few of them. I also tried for the first time beers made by Forge, from Hartland, and they were well-structured and quaffable scoops. If you see any of these beers in a pub, you should try them.

To be honest, and fair, I have never been to a beer festival without having at least one beer which I suspect has been included as a joke, given its total repulsiveness, and this occasion was no exception. I had a half of one foul-smelling stinker which looked like it had been scooped out of the River Taw and dosed with caster sugar. But, because I was quite, but not stupidly, trousered, I can't remember which one it was. And, such are the vagaries of the human tongue, someone probably thought it was indeed fine to imbibe in all seriousness. It wasn't from any of the breweries mentioned here.

We left after a good couple of hours of beer exercise at the temple of leisure. Joking aside, I'm not sure the cafe at the leisure centre is the very best venue in terms of atmosphere for a beer festival; the organisers had invited local music acts to perform on a stage, but I kept being distracted by sweaty-looking people in tracksuits (insert joke here). It was interesting to note that this was the least FMAMWBy (fat-middle-aged-men-with-beards-y) ale shindig I'd been to. There were lots of women and younger people there, and very few beards among either group.

There were 20 beers from North Devon on offer. The breweries represented were: Barum, from Barnstaple; Clearwater, from Torrington; Country Life, from Abbotsham; Forge, from Hartland; Jollyboat, from Bideford; and Wizard, from Ilfracombe. There was also cider from Winkleigh. These were complemented by 18 "guest beers" from other parts of England.