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O.C.O.T. Minutes

23rd September 2016

Hebden Bridge

Present: Dave Dalton, Andy Fildes, Steve Goff, Robert Holmes, Larry Johnson, Kevin Jordan, Mike Melia, Aidan Moy, Noel O’Toole, Bob Rial, Tony Statham, Dave Whittle

Following the previous Monday’s return from an excursion to Vienna, the number of attendees arriving for today’s outing was severely depleted. Those having travelled to Vienna appeared, albeit somewhat superficially, to have made a remarkable recovery from their hedonistic three day break. Many of today’s absentees had attended a walk organised by Alan the previous Friday that had shadowed today’s walk.

Our luck was in today from a meteorological perspective: a temporary ridge of high pressure had moved over the United Kingdom from the Azores resulting in fine sunny weather for much of the day until later in the afternoon when a cold front sucked in a layer of cloud.

Robert’s walk incorporated some pain inducing ascents that were inflicted upon us and helped to sow within us the seeds of regret nurtured from a diet of alcoholic largesse over in Vienna.

The route to Sowerby Bridge took us by the Calderdale Way over Crow Hill and to the stone monument Churn Milk Joan and on to Luddenden Dean.

We arrived at the Cat i’th Well – a Timothy Taylor abode at around 14:15 and we took the opportunity of a well earned rest. Shortly before our arrival, we had completed yet another harrowing Holmes’ ascent and sauntered into the best room of the Cat to be greeted by a roaring open fire. Your correspondent wondered whether it was just he who was feeling a tad warm around the collar. A cursory glance over at Dave, whose face was drenched in rivulets of perspiration, provided the necessary evidence that others too were feeling the heat in more ways than one. After being served with pints of Golden best and Strongbow, we quickly headed outside into the beer garden.

We continued on a high level route for our return to Sowerby Bridge.

We arrived in Sowerby Bridge at 16:45 and made a beeline for the Hog’s Head Brew House where we enjoyed some fine ales and ciders.

Our final port of call was the Bull On The Bridge Hotel and Sowerby Taps. It was during our visit to the Sowerby Taps that we came within a whisker of suffering our first group fatality. Your correspondent had sought advice from Robert regarding directions to the station for his return journey back to Manchester. Robert stepped out side of the basement bar to ascend the steps to ground level to give directions whereupon a full pint of bitter came crashing down from the entrance above to the Bull hotel. If not for Robert’s remarkable agility in sidestepping the beer filled Exocet, it surely would have made near lethal contact with his head. For all his fleet footedness, he nevertheless suffered the inevitable heavy drenching from a beer shampoo. He vented his palpable anger by verbally cursing those thoughtless beer- drinking smokers stood above who were responsible for kicking over the glass. Profuse apologies descended from above, which had the desired effect of removing the wind from livid Robert’s sails.


The group thanked Robert for a classic Yorkshire outing.

O.C.O.T. Minutes

13th May 2016

Ilkley

Present: Syd Bennett, Robert Brown, Dave Burrows, Steve Carey, Dave Dalton, Andy Fildes, Graham Fildes, Andrew Goff, Steve Goff, John Guest, Adi Hammond, Robert Holmes, Larry Johnson, Kevin Jordan, Sue Largee, Alan Larsen, Colin Larsen, Kevin McDonough, Paul Morrell, Dave Nichols, Noel O’Toole, Julie Sprigg, Tony Statham, Dave Whittle, Mike Worthington

Alarm bells were beginning to tinkle and members began to get twitchy as they assembled at Chorlton Street, enjoying the warm sunshine yet becoming increasingly aware of the absence of the coach hired by Goff and Son Limited, in association with O.C.O.T., as the time passed 09:30.

It turned out that any fears were unfounded as the coach duly arrived a little later together with father and son on board. Boarding commenced almost immediately. Today’s payload consisted of 22 members. At around 09:40, following some momentary hesitation by Andy, our driver for the day, as to his optimum exit strategy from Manchester city centre, he duly elected to head towards Portland Street by hanging a right off Chorlton Street followed by another sharp right and heading eastwards up Portland Street making a beeline for Lever Street which would in turn take us towards Oldham Road towards the M60 and M62 motorways.

It was a largely uneventful journey that took us into Ilkley town centre. That said, there were one or two mildly harrowing moments as we narrowly avoided bridges with low load limits. Andy duly engaged his mental agility by performing some quick arithmetic around load calculations, whilst simultaneously navigating his way along narrow lanes taking care not to inadvertently crush any badly parked cars. With around ten tons of unladen coach weight inflated by a conservative estimate of an additional two tons of payload, he probably erred on the side of caution therefore to avoid a particular bridge displaying an eight tons maximum weight limit. It proved to be just one of the many advantages of being driven by a transport professional of several years standing (no offence to Chris intended).

It could have been considered by some as an unfortunate coincidence that we selected a coach parking space immediately adjacent to a school sports playing field that was hosting a rounders match consisting of teams of young adolescent girls. Matters weren’t helped when everybody stood by the side of the coach after disembarking, looking intently over at the playing field (Julie and Sue excepted). A casual observer could have been forgiven for arriving at an inappropriate conclusion when looking at the gathering of assembled silver foxes. John Guest and Dave Burrows joined us at the parking spot, having made their own respective ways to Ilkley. Dave had decided once again to bring along his executive ‘man bag’. Presumably, not yet wanting to fully relax his grip on the reins of his erstwhile role with H.M. Inspector of Taxes, his bag likely as not, contained the case notes pertaining to David Cameron’s ongoing recent tax avoidance peccadillo in connection with Blairmore Holdings. In Dave’s opinion, perhaps Mr Cameron does have a case to answer.

We duly set off on the circular trek, the weather now having turned to overcast skies and a nagging northerly wind. Barely ten minutes had elapsed before fractures began to appear in the group. Bizarrely, Tony headed into a local butcher’s shop. But for what your correspondent asked him self? Perhaps a ‘T’ Bone steak? A tasty piece of rump steak? Or a Barnsley chop for his evening meal later that day? Yet others disappeared into a local sandwich shop presumably having neglected their forward planning regarding the making of their own sandwiches. Several minutes later, we were reunified and continued a gradual ascent along Old Keighley Road towards Ilkley Moor.

We journey on towards Cowper’s Cross, Whetstone Gate and up to the Trig Point. A short break ensued before we resumed in the direction of the Twelve Apostles Stone Circle. After visiting the Lower Lantham Dam, we headed towards the Cow and Calf public house. There we enjoyed a selection of bitters and ciders.

After emerging sometime later, we continued towards Darwin’s View and from where we made our way to Ilkley town centre. Our opening port of call was the Crescent Hotel. Members enjoyed Copper Dragon, Citra and Voodoo Mild from the Great Heck Brewery. Aspall’s cider was also on offer.

The Daleside Hotel was the next port of call. Featured bitters here included: Dragon Slayer (Wharfe Bank Brewery), Timothy Taylor Landlord, Saltaire Blonde and Ilkley Dale (both from the Ilkley Brewery). Symond’s cider was also on offer.

Our final port of call was the Flying Duck. We enjoyed a wide selection of bitters from the Wharfedale Brewery.


The group thanked Alan for another superb north Yorkshire trek.

O.C.O.T. Minutes

13th to 15th March 2016

Castleton, Derbyshire

Present: Syd Bennett, Steve Carey, Dave Dalton, Andy Fildes, Steve Goff, Adi Hammond, Trevor Heywood, Robert Holmes, Larry Johnson, Kevin Jordan, David Lamb, Alan Larsen, Colin Larsen, Sylvia Larsen, Kevin McDonough, Mark Nutter, Noel O’Toole, Bob Rial, Neil Shortland, Annette Statham (Monday), Frankie Statham (Monday), Tony Statham (Monday), Debbie Thomas, Dave Whittle, Mike Worthington (Monday)


History was in the making during this year’s spring short break as we were introduced to our inaugural member of the canidae family or perhaps more recognisably known as canus familiaris. Frankie, to his credit, given his very brief introduction to such a large family of homonidae, was impeccably behaved during Monday’s trek. With barely a single whimper or whine, he scampered up the hills and ran down the dales with only a brief respite for his lunch which, most unusually for the canine palate, included a Bakewell slice kindly donated by Sylvia which he wolfed down with great gusto. During his walk, because he only had minimal clearance between his lower torso and the muddy ground, he accumulated considerable splashes of mud on his belly and so, to spruce himself up, was treated by Annette to a natural power wash – a fast running stream that we happened to chance upon. He almost completed the entire walk but his short legs were unable to endure the final few miles and so, with great reluctance, he decided to avail himself of the train service for his return to Castleton and was accompanied by Tony, Annette and Sylvia.

The previous day had seen members begin to arrive from around 09:30 onwards at our four locations of accommodation: The Swiss House, Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese Inn, The Bull’s Head and the Causeway House Guest House where Larry and Mark had arrived on the previous day. Your correspondent had been accommodated, along with several others, in the Swiss House where we were met by the elderly sisterly double act: Martha and Mary. It quickly became apparent that of the two, it was Martha who “wore the trousers”. An illustration of her feisty personality was painted for me as I was summarily admonished by her for loitering outside the kitchen’s water closet awaiting Adrian to finish his morning ablutions. I was given a verbal tongue lashing and told to wait in the reception area.

When everybody had assembled, we headed out of Castleton towards Hollins Cross. Our seven miles trek took us trough Lose Hill and into Hope where we seized the opportunity of an early afternoon break at the Cheshire Cheese pub. We enjoyed an impressive range of bitters: Bakewell Best (Peak Ales), Moonshine (Abbey Dale Brewery), Barnsley Bitter (Acorn Brewery), Farmer’s Blonde (Bradfield Brewery) and Addlestones Cloudy Cider. Upon our departure we bid farewell to those members electing to watch the Manchester United match in Bakewell that afternoon which apparently, was the nearest location to Hope, of a pub authorised to broadcast the game since the rights were acquired by British Telecommunications plc. From Hope, we continued onwards to Lose Hill Farm, duly returning to Castleton.

That evening, we collectively enjoyed an evening meal at the Bull’s Head. The meals had been forward booked earlier in the day by Secretary Larsen. Upon our arrival at Castleton, his carefully laid plans had been thrown into disarray by the late arrival during the day of Tony and Annette who had ordered alongside the pre-booking. Thankfully, Colin’s calming influence pacified the pub management which was becoming increasingly incensed over the late changes to the order. Following the meal we visited The Castle and The Nag’s Head.

The fine weather continued into Monday. After a thoroughly enjoyable breakfast we set off for a ten miles hike that took us out of Castleton on to Old Road and on to a climb up Mam Tor, along Rushup Edge and continuing on to Barber Booth, Edale and Hollins Cross returning to Castleton. We had a mid afternoon break in the Rambler’s at Edale. Here, we enjoyed Cheshire Cat Blonde (Weetwood), Farmer’s Blonde (Bradfield), Rambler’s Gold, John Smith’s and Hereford Dry cider. Conversation turned at some stage to a discussion over the pub’s restaurant menu. The choice of a Barnsley Chop appearing under the main meals section provoked heated debate. Secretary Larsen voiced some scathing commentary lambasting the trend for modern pub restaurants to elevate fundamentally simple meals by assigning them flowery descriptive nomenclature such as Barnsley Chop and Grimsby Gammon and then subsequently increasing the meal’s profit margin by some eye watering percentage. The pub management was likely as not hoping and praying that he hadn’t appeared on the premises under the guise of a newspaper restaurant critic.

That evening, schisms began to materialise within the group with different sub groups electing to visit restaurants of their choosing with the proviso that everybody reconvened later at the Cheshire Cheese for the evening’s quiz organised by Dave Dalton.

Tuesday morning’s breakfast at the Swiss House was noticeably livelier than Monday’s. A minor altercation occurred at the breakfast table, which was expertly handled by Kevin Maximus following an accusation levelled at him by Martha, the governess, of misplacing the key to the front door. The key apparently had not been lodged in its usual place - on the inside of the lock - from the night before when Kevin had returned following his traditional evening ritual of a tobacco nightcap. Kevin quickly realised the gravity of the predicament he had created for himself. He meekly explained to Martha his rationale for depositing the key where he did because of his fear that any later returnees may not have been able to gain entry because of a lockout due to a key being lodged on the inside of the lock. Martha in her inimitable magisterial manner, grudgingly accepted his explanation and interpreted Kevin’s innocent explanation as a quasi admission of guilt, perhaps in much the same way as a school headmistress would have when admonishing a recalcitrant pupil for not having completed a piece of homework. Unknowingly, and most fortunately for her, she narrowly avoided a diatribe from Kevin as, sitting adjacent to him at the table, I could see him visibly bristling at her unbridled effrontery. Your correspondent too narrowly avoided an earlier spat with Martha over his modus operandi of the toaster. In an attempt to avoid the calamity of burnt toast, he made a premature ejection of its contents in order to make a visual check of his toast’s progress. Unluckily, hovering behind him in his blind spot, Martha stepped out of the shadows and castigated him in an overly loud voice so as to maximise her sadistic enjoyment of his crushing embarrassment as she reprimanded him for not using the toaster’s eject button when undertaking such a manoeuvre. Red faced and visibly chastened, he warned others about committing a similar assault against Martha’s toaster.

Following the depositing of luggage in vehicle boots, we began a closing three miles hike out of Castleton taking us towards Speedwell Cavern, Winnats Pass, Winnats Head Farm, Blue John Cavern, Treak Cliff Cavern and Old Road, returning to Castleton. The weather that morning had changed dramatically. The sunshine of the previous two days had been replaced by low hanging cloud and air that was pregnant with moisture.

We had a final meeting in the bar of the Cheshire Cheese where Colin gave his traditional oratory and the group took the opportunity to thank Alan and Robert for their input into organising and policing the treks and Colin, for his planning, administration and organisation of the accommodation and meals

O.C.O.T. Minutes

15th January 2016

Adlington/Chorley

Present: Syd Bennett, Steve Carey, Dave Dalton, Andy Fildes, Steve Goff, Trevor Heywood, Robert Holmes, David Lamb, Barry McGuinness, Mike Melia, Alan Larsen, Colin Larsen, Kevin McDonough, John Nelson, Dave Nichols, Noel O’Toole, Bob Rial, Steve Sawczuk, Neil Shortland, Tony Statham, Dave Whittle, Mike Whittle, Mike Worthington


It was fortuitous indeed that the timing of today’s outing would be aligned to a temporary ridge of high pressure. It would be the first occasion during the last two months following wave after wave of Atlantic low pressure systems, that the barometric reading was around 1,020 millibars. The north west of Manchester had endured plummeting temperatures during the previous night. The atmosphere was frigid on the Adlington platform as Alan and your correspondent awaited the arrival of the Manchester contingency.

We departed Adlington station, after several minutes delay waiting for the arrival of the Manchester train service, greeted by bright sunshine and, as we made our way along Rotary Way to Anderton we were soon made conscious of the benefit of sub zero temperatures as the previous day’s soft mud had solidified, sparing our booted feet from a soaking.

Steady progress was made as we headed towards The Shawes, Lower Rivington Reservoir and onto our first break at Rivington Bowling Club. Upon our arrival, members began to form sub groups with some electing to patronise the café bar and others remaining outside to enjoy their sandwiches. One particular group chose to sit at a table positioned at the perimeter of the bowling green. It wasn’t long after making ourselves comfortable at one of the many wooden tables, that we observed the resident green keeper heading towards us. We were to quickly learn subsequently that this wasn’t to be a social visit from him to jovially pass the time of day with us. He wasted no time in inquiring of us whether we had purchased our sandwiches from the café. We countered that we had prepared them prior to our arrival. He retorted, rather irritably: “In that case, I would prefer that you didn’t consume them alongside the green, availing yourselves of our seating facilities and not having visited the café.” It proved to be no defence that we were the only patrons at the green and that a significant proportion of the group had purchased food and drink from the café. He added further that if he turned a blind eye to this episode, it might well prove to be the ‘thin edge of the wedge’ and that others would soon begin to ‘abuse’ the facilities in a similar way to our selves. We assessed that the gentleman was utterly implacable and that discretion was the better part of valour and so we bid him farewell. We continued our refreshments on the outer boundary of the club away from the keeper’s view.

We shortly continued on our way alongside Anglezarke reservoir to Healey Nab. The steady rise in the ambient temperature began to gradually make the ground underfoot become somewhat treacherous. A rising number of bleating voices were beginning to be heard as some members discovered to their dismay that their boots began to fail as the watertight seals started to allow the thoroughly unwelcoming ingress of muddy water as they progressed along the boggy terrain. Those two dreaded words, “Trench Foot”, were at the forefront of members’ minds as the squelching of boots became quite audible.

During our descent into Chorley town centre and somewhere between Healey Nab and White House farm, we negotiated a field that could be best described as water logged. The depth of the water, given just a conservative estimate, must have been between six and twelve inches. Harrowing moans and agonising groans were beginning to reach a crescendo as we headed out of the field to the comfort of a trail, the surface of which, had some form of an aggregated surface. A scream emanated from the rear of your correspondent as he was exiting the field. Turning quickly around, I was greeted by a pitiful sight that will stay with me for the foreseeable future. I was faced by the forlorn image of one, Mike Melia, drenched from chest to toe in putrid bog water. The water had penetrated deep into his clothing, which was hardly surprising following reports that had been received that he had fallen a multiple number of times. And yet; for all his tribulations, his stoicism was unwavering. His stiff upper lip and overall stalwart demeanour - reminiscent of an example of the humble Tommy from early last century floundering around in the trenches at Ypres - was a sight to behold. Mike: we salute you!

During our approach towards Chorley town centre, our collective thoughts were directed towards Mike. What was he to do now? He would clearly be debarred from entry to any licensed premises given the state of his extant attire, leaving him with the unappetising alternative option of an early return home. Mike, renowned for his ability to think laterally and outside of the box, had already crystallised in his mind a neat little solution to his predicament. Walking along the high street, not far from Chorley, he made a hasty left turn into a charity shop: namely, Cancer Research. In due course, he emerged with a two or a three piece outfit for around a princely sum of £10. A pitfall of far greater magnitude would be required before Mike would be denied his evening’s entertainment around Chorley town centre.

We headed towards our first port of call: The Crown. We passed the Shepherds’ Hall bar and, as we headed towards The Crown, several renegade members opted for the former, led almost militarily by Colin. We were to discover later a revelation that Colin, probably caused by advancing years, is developing an increasing, noticeably intolerant and hardening attitude towards the mundane and mediocre offerings at certain licensed premises: the Crown unfortunately, was now the present target in the crosshairs of his ire.

Following our sampling of bitters at the Crown: 4TS, Brewdolph (Dunscar Bridge Brewery), Mucky Duck and Chestnut Red, we had to confess that we were distinctly underwhelmed by the quality of the offerings. We reluctantly doffed our caps towards Colin in recognition of his astute choice of hostelry but demurred towards his uncharacteristic lack of sociability.

We duly joined Colin and others in the Shepherds’ Hall where we enjoyed bitters including: Darkside (Spire Brewing Co.), Freak Show (Great Orme Brewery), Dark Mild (Bank Top Brewery), Wobbly Bob (Phoenix Brewery) together with ciders, of Apples and Pears and Thistly Traditional.

Several members visited the Wetherspoon’s bar located nearby.
Our final port of call was the Malt and Hops where the choice of bitters was: White Prussian (Elland Brewery), Wobbly Bob, White Witch (Moorhouses Brewery), Rat Hole (Rat Brewery) and Northern Hemisphere Hopped Ale (Lancashire Brewery).
From here, we made our way home in two tranches with some members electing to leave on the earlier train.

The group thanked Alan once again for another splendid and entertaining outing.

Steve Goff, Kevin Jordan, Larry Johnson and David Lamb boarded the 8.46 from Manchester to Windermere on Saturday 28th December. I joined them at Bolton. Introductions were made to David, whom I hadn’t previously met A pleasant journey passing waterlogged fields saw the Five arrive at 10.27. During the journey, KJ proved that he must have had plenty of Christmas crackers as the quality of his jokes was underwhelming. In fact, KJ went on to be the focal point of most things that happened during the day. After a brief visit to Booths to allow Larry to purchase the obligatory Rennies, we set off towards Bowness. We attempted to visit an exhibition about Ambleside and Auschwitz during the war, however, the Library was closed. It was a pleasant day and I certainly didn’t need the number of layers I was wearing. As we approached the lake, KJ became increasingly agitated. We had been talking about lake crossings and cruise trips, trying to ease him into the idea. But, KJ is not a sailor and he wasn’t having it. Large numbers of swans and Canadian geese massed around the lake edge, whilst people fed them. Many children were observed being chased by hissing swans which were intent on eating a whole child rather than an old crusty cob. Our stroll took us around the lake, through a small coppice and out to the car ferry. Having seen the ferry in action KJ agreed to the short crossing. Ignoring the pedestrian route, Steve was almost decapitated by the bright yellow descending barrier that he didn’t see!! 50p one way. Pity Colin wasn’t with us to negotiate a return fare. Having disembarked safely we strolled around the corner – pointing out the lack of public house or café. Various ideas were discussed about pooling codger pensions and opening a welcoming hostelry. Waiting for the return ferry, we marvelled at the views and size of the lake; remembering that our codgerette, Julie did in fact swim the bloody thing. She rose even further in our estimation as we discussed how cold she must have been and how knackering the swim was. Larry rang Julie to confirm which route she actually took. Turns out she swam nearer the Ambleside end. The Ship Inn on Glebe Road was our first hostelry. Jennings’ Cumberland ale being the first pint. (Sorry, KJ drinks lager but I don’t know which one). I had prepared a list of the pubs I intended to suggest, but this wasn’t on it. The quality and price were both fine and I will visit again. Heading back to Bowness, we stumbled across The Stag’s Head. Never been in before and it didn’t show up on my t’internet search of good ale pubs. But undeterred we entered. A large roaring fire with a convenient empty table greeted us. Moorhouse ales were on sale. Sadly the barman had had a humour bypass. Very grumpy unwelcoming and miserable. (he was about 25!!) I used my new cask ale app. For those with app phones, download it. it helps find cask marqued pubs and has a scanner for you to record your visit. A modern day trainspotter’s delight. Also, once you have visited 100 bars you get a free pint! Ignoring the White House, which seemed to be a restaurant rather than a pub our thoughts turned to food. So, one more pint. This was taken at the Royal Oak. Coniston Bluebird being taken. As well as sweets from the bar. Steve was told off for taking more than one. Another roaring fire. Larry and KJ conversed with fellow music lovers, with Larry playing name that tune with a lady who had northern soul tunes on her phone. Carrying on an old tradition; when KJ went to the toilet, I put a large log in his bag. It was rather large and KJ rumbled me straight away. From here we went to the chippy. The fourth pub and location of KJ’s first spat was the Hole in t’ Wall. Mostly serving Robinsons ales. We overheard KJ raising his voice with the young chap behind the bar and saying something like “your havin a laugh”. Turns out he was charged £4 for a pint of lager. As we sat and discussed the merits of dick turpin, we agreed that £4 was steep. But KJ then confessed to simply asking for lager and he was actually given a pint of strong Czech lager so £4 was probably about right. With time pressing, we had to bypass other targets and set off at a fairly rapid pace up Lake Road towards the station. The final stop was The Ellery up in Windermere. Not sure what the beer was, but yet again KJ fell foul of the bar staff. Paying with a £20, the barman only gave change of £10. When pointed out he apologised, said it was a mistake but “there is no need to look at me like that”. Can anyone imagine our dearly loved KJ giving anyone a dirty or threatening look?? Having observed final score we marched to the station to board the 5.06 back to Manchester. Once on board, KJ produced a glass from his bag, saying having been ripped off twice he was getting his own back. Not sure which pub is now one glass short A great day out, fine weather, good beers and great company. Watch out for the next Five go to….. Kind regards Mark