New Newcastle
Think it’s been over thirty years since I’ve been to Newcastle (yes, I'm THAT old), but last week I finally made it back. It’s about three hours fifteen or so to get there by a direct train (similar to driving time) and I booked a cheap night in a hotel in Gateshead (thirty odd quid). My pub research involved simply messaging a couple of people who were either from that neck of the woods and/or were regular visitors (a lot more regular than once every thirty years at any rate).
The bus strike that was due to be on at the weekend in Liverpool had been cancelled so getting to Lime Street wasn’t as problematic as it had been the week before (which had required catching multiple Arrivas rather than the usual one Stagecoach). The train was on time and pretty full. Trying to find a ‘Green Light’ seat for one not reserved was a bit of a battle and the game was on at every station when new travellers got on board. It was a nice trip though with no issues and plenty of lovely views of the northern English countryside. The train left Liverpool on time and arrived in Newcastle on time too. Nice. Timetables, hey! Who knew they weren't always works of fiction or aspirational?
I’m usually pretty good at finding my way around. But when you first get somewhere it helps to stop and sense where you are and ID the directions to a few places early doors. So that is my excuse for walking sod all distance across the road from the railway station to one of the closest pubs: the Newcastle Tap (a Pivovar pub). I wasn’t aiming to get to the hotel until later on as I didn’t really need to get in there and then get back out to Newcastle later. So I soon formulated a rough plan which involved getting down to towards the river/bridge end of Bigg Market before heading on over a bridge to Gateshead to some hostelries there. I would of course be taking advice from customers and bar staff along the way; local knowledge is a valuable commodity.
Dog Leap Stairs - and who can blame them?
Newcastle Tap, Crown Posada (what a beautiful drop!), Redhouse, and Bridge Tavern
It was a pint of ‘Sheaf Street Pale’ from Track Brewing at the Newcastle Tap and the fleshy bones of plan were made. Next up was to be the famous Crown Posada down the Bigg towards the iconic bridge. The walk wasn’t particularly long, but it did involve some precipitous steps which challenged my knees and resolve (just a fortnight after my first physio appointment to look at my interesting knees). I suppose the steps down have the advantage over a curving sloping street in that the are handrails (just in case of any worrying wobbliness). As you can see—I’ve typed this up—I survived the first great grand northern knee challenge.
Not far from the bottom of the steps (which were signposted ‘Dog Leap Stairs’ not Andy Fell Here Stairs) was the lovely old and narrow bar that is the Crown Posada. Had a nice chat with a few locals about things beer and pub related and to the barman. Had my first and far from last Two by Two beer of the trip (‘Pale’) and my first Flying Gang, ‘Liars Dice,’ oh and my first Almasty, ‘Air Walk’.
It was a great pub but I couldn’t stay beyond three—could I? Well maybe, but I didn’t. I headed around the corner closer still to the Bridge into the Redhouse. I had a complete flashback to the time I was in Newcastle all those decades ago. Amazingly at the bar I found there was a beer on from Liverpool, ‘Baritone’ from Colbier. They’ve only been going a few months so it seemed amazing to see it all that way from home. Welcomed a couple to join me at the table and we ended up chatting about weekends away (and beer, of course).
Those Scousers get everywhere Colbier and Neptune in successive Bigg Market pubs.
Next was just out the door and a very short walk to the Bridge Tavern. And lo! It was another Liverpool drink, a Neptune ‘Forecast.’ It was 5pm and a Friday so it was pretty loud and busy in there. Just had the one, again, and I headed back up those Dog Leap Stairs to cross over the High Level Bridge to Gateshead.
Not far over the bridge was the a lovely micro pub: Microbus. The weather was such that I sat outside too with my pint of Turning Point ‘Stuck in a Metaphor' and chatted to a couple of local Likely Lads. Just around the corner from Microbus is a nice old traditional pub, The Central Bar. It was time for another Two by Two ‘Pale’ here. I’d been recommended to head to one of the rooms at the back of the bar which were worth dropping into. I ended up with a room to myself too (the front bar was busy).
Finally for the day, very close by, was Station East. I had a Hadrian’s ‘Northern Pale’ here. Decided to make a cautious retreat from the pub when things got a little weird with a couple and their mate. People sometimes make a pub, sometimes they can fook it up too.
Microbus, Central, and Station East
It was an odd end to the beery expedition section of the day, it was time to head to my hotel. The bus stop was just around the corner. The bus trip was interesting. I rang the bell as it approached the stop I wanted and the bus proceeded to careen past my stop. The following one was the terminus (about half a mile from my hotel). I asked the driver why she didn’t stop, “I heard the bell, but it goes off all the time. Didn’t think anybody wanted to get off…’.
At the terminus I was told by driver a couple of bus options heading back my way. One was there just a few minutes later. I pressed the large button for the door to open up at the appropriate gate, and it was broken. The door wouldn’t open. Through the plexiglass I saw the bus reverse out of the bay and drive off with nobody able to get on. I was beginning to feel a little pissed off by the whole bus situation. I got on the next one with relief and got into the tired hotel tired. The bus people hadn’t wrecked my day completely, they’d just made it worse than brilliant—which I guess isn’t that bad.
Saturday started with an unusable shower. Not the best start after traipsing through the hotel to get there. It seemed in keeping with her buses the night before. Onwards and upwards. It was more important to get a decent breakfast down me. After speaking to the barman at the Crown Posada, and doing some verification online, I’d decided on the Quay Ingredient, just across the road from the Bridge Tavern. It was pissing down. Rather than walk down those damnable Dog Steps I walked down a steep road nearby. In hindsight the steps would have been better—they have rails.
I found the Quay Ingredient easily, unfortunately it had already been found by lots of others and was packed. Rather than wait for a space I volunteered to sit outside despite the rain: one of the two tables outside was relatively dry thanks to the road bridge above it. It was certainly a wonderful breakfast. The bacon and mushrooms were lovely, but the two poached eggs… gawd they were delicious. Can’t remember the last time I hadn’t had fried eggs to be honest. The service and the food was exemplary, and plenty of people walked away rather than wait; they really should have waited.
Quay Ingredient breakfast
Newcastle photos that weren't beer or pub related—whilst waiting hopefully for a bus.
So my day was set up and it was time to move on. First up was to be the Free Trade Inn a short bus ride to the east. The thick misty rain was still going when I walked to the nearest (very) bus stop. A bus was just passing as I go there, which turned out to be the bus I wanted. Ho hum. Twenty minutes until the next one, so I took the opportunity to walk along the riverside to the next stop so I could at least see a bit more of the city than the four walls of a pub—and the disappointing buses.
I got to the Free Trade Inn in good time (around 11:30) and had a couple of pints (Fyne Ales ‘Jarl’ and Burning Sky ‘Aurora’). It was all but empty when I arrived but soon enough people were coming in for one or more than one. It was both popular with regulars and visitors that were seeking it out.
Free Trade Inn, Town Mouse, Mean-Eyed Cat
Walking back over a road ‘bridge’ (not over the river, but just a steep section of general physical geography) it was back on to the same bus route I came in on (a No.3 I think) it was back westward toward the city. I was to get the bus to the end of the route to pick up some more pubs in the centre and then walk down to the station and ultimately back to Liverpool.
The Town Mouse was next among my recommendations from friends and colleagues. Took me a while to find it as I didn’t realise it was a basement micro pub and I was walking too and fro looking up and not down. Got there in the end—was probably two or three minutes but it felt like a lifetime-ish in the wet Tyneside rain. The barman in the Town Mouse was welcoming and giving me recommendations on places to go to. And the rain still rained. Started with an Elusive Brewing ‘Oregon Trail’ which was nice but not one to repeat (abv wise) so early in the day so followed up once more with another Two by Two, this time a ‘Summer Pale.’
No more buses were needed now. Thankfully. It was a pretty short walk (in the rainy rain) to the Mean-Eyed Cat. It was a bright place and had nice beer choices. Ended up with a Flying Gang once more, this time it was ‘All Fours.’ What with the run of pubs of mice and cats I supposed all fours was inevitable.
Anyone see I mean-eyed cat around here?
Heading back towards the station the next pub was to be the Wobbly Duck (still animal related but no longer one on all fours). Took a tiny detour as one thing that Newcastle suffers from is the multiple levels of the place. Google Maps finds it difficult; don’t sit beneath a bridge and ask Google for directions. When I did get to the square with the Wobbly Duck on the Google map wasn’t helping much. I almost asked a policeman for directions. The poor bobby was stood there on his lonesome next to a load of large deckchairs set up for a big screen showing the Women’s Wimbledon Final. Not sure whether the rain made any difference, but not one person was watching the tennis; there was just the copper with his back to it looking resigned (and possibly considering it).
The Wobbly Duck once again was a basement level bar. Had a nice vibe and chatted to a few people there. Didn’t take any photos and I have no idea what I drank. I dare say it may have been a Two by Two if I was a gambling man. I don't write these things down, I'm not so much a ticker and as photographic record kinda guy.
The final stop was to be the Centurion Bar in the railway station. Had a Hadrian Border ‘Northern IPA’ there before getting the train back. I was on time, and the train was on time. Basically the buses had been a bit of a nightmare over the weekend, but the trains had all been fine; maybe even dandy.
Centurion's Bar. Cheers, Newcastle. You've been ace.
It may have been thirty years since my last visit, but it wont be thirty more until the next one. Probably not anyway. Thank you Newcastle (apart from your bus drivers) you were a blast (if a slightly damp one).
The bus strike that was due to be on at the weekend in Liverpool had been cancelled so getting to Lime Street wasn’t as problematic as it had been the week before (which had required catching multiple Arrivas rather than the usual one Stagecoach). The train was on time and pretty full. Trying to find a ‘Green Light’ seat for one not reserved was a bit of a battle and the game was on at every station when new travellers got on board. It was a nice trip though with no issues and plenty of lovely views of the northern English countryside. The train left Liverpool on time and arrived in Newcastle on time too. Nice. Timetables, hey! Who knew they weren't always works of fiction or aspirational?
I’m usually pretty good at finding my way around. But when you first get somewhere it helps to stop and sense where you are and ID the directions to a few places early doors. So that is my excuse for walking sod all distance across the road from the railway station to one of the closest pubs: the Newcastle Tap (a Pivovar pub). I wasn’t aiming to get to the hotel until later on as I didn’t really need to get in there and then get back out to Newcastle later. So I soon formulated a rough plan which involved getting down to towards the river/bridge end of Bigg Market before heading on over a bridge to Gateshead to some hostelries there. I would of course be taking advice from customers and bar staff along the way; local knowledge is a valuable commodity.
Dog Leap Stairs - and who can blame them?
Newcastle Tap, Crown Posada (what a beautiful drop!), Redhouse, and Bridge Tavern
It was a pint of ‘Sheaf Street Pale’ from Track Brewing at the Newcastle Tap and the fleshy bones of plan were made. Next up was to be the famous Crown Posada down the Bigg towards the iconic bridge. The walk wasn’t particularly long, but it did involve some precipitous steps which challenged my knees and resolve (just a fortnight after my first physio appointment to look at my interesting knees). I suppose the steps down have the advantage over a curving sloping street in that the are handrails (just in case of any worrying wobbliness). As you can see—I’ve typed this up—I survived the first great grand northern knee challenge.
Not far from the bottom of the steps (which were signposted ‘Dog Leap Stairs’ not Andy Fell Here Stairs) was the lovely old and narrow bar that is the Crown Posada. Had a nice chat with a few locals about things beer and pub related and to the barman. Had my first and far from last Two by Two beer of the trip (‘Pale’) and my first Flying Gang, ‘Liars Dice,’ oh and my first Almasty, ‘Air Walk’.
It was a great pub but I couldn’t stay beyond three—could I? Well maybe, but I didn’t. I headed around the corner closer still to the Bridge into the Redhouse. I had a complete flashback to the time I was in Newcastle all those decades ago. Amazingly at the bar I found there was a beer on from Liverpool, ‘Baritone’ from Colbier. They’ve only been going a few months so it seemed amazing to see it all that way from home. Welcomed a couple to join me at the table and we ended up chatting about weekends away (and beer, of course).
Those Scousers get everywhere Colbier and Neptune in successive Bigg Market pubs.
Next was just out the door and a very short walk to the Bridge Tavern. And lo! It was another Liverpool drink, a Neptune ‘Forecast.’ It was 5pm and a Friday so it was pretty loud and busy in there. Just had the one, again, and I headed back up those Dog Leap Stairs to cross over the High Level Bridge to Gateshead.
Not far over the bridge was the a lovely micro pub: Microbus. The weather was such that I sat outside too with my pint of Turning Point ‘Stuck in a Metaphor' and chatted to a couple of local Likely Lads. Just around the corner from Microbus is a nice old traditional pub, The Central Bar. It was time for another Two by Two ‘Pale’ here. I’d been recommended to head to one of the rooms at the back of the bar which were worth dropping into. I ended up with a room to myself too (the front bar was busy).
Finally for the day, very close by, was Station East. I had a Hadrian’s ‘Northern Pale’ here. Decided to make a cautious retreat from the pub when things got a little weird with a couple and their mate. People sometimes make a pub, sometimes they can fook it up too.
Microbus, Central, and Station East
It was an odd end to the beery expedition section of the day, it was time to head to my hotel. The bus stop was just around the corner. The bus trip was interesting. I rang the bell as it approached the stop I wanted and the bus proceeded to careen past my stop. The following one was the terminus (about half a mile from my hotel). I asked the driver why she didn’t stop, “I heard the bell, but it goes off all the time. Didn’t think anybody wanted to get off…’.
At the terminus I was told by driver a couple of bus options heading back my way. One was there just a few minutes later. I pressed the large button for the door to open up at the appropriate gate, and it was broken. The door wouldn’t open. Through the plexiglass I saw the bus reverse out of the bay and drive off with nobody able to get on. I was beginning to feel a little pissed off by the whole bus situation. I got on the next one with relief and got into the tired hotel tired. The bus people hadn’t wrecked my day completely, they’d just made it worse than brilliant—which I guess isn’t that bad.
Saturday started with an unusable shower. Not the best start after traipsing through the hotel to get there. It seemed in keeping with her buses the night before. Onwards and upwards. It was more important to get a decent breakfast down me. After speaking to the barman at the Crown Posada, and doing some verification online, I’d decided on the Quay Ingredient, just across the road from the Bridge Tavern. It was pissing down. Rather than walk down those damnable Dog Steps I walked down a steep road nearby. In hindsight the steps would have been better—they have rails.
I found the Quay Ingredient easily, unfortunately it had already been found by lots of others and was packed. Rather than wait for a space I volunteered to sit outside despite the rain: one of the two tables outside was relatively dry thanks to the road bridge above it. It was certainly a wonderful breakfast. The bacon and mushrooms were lovely, but the two poached eggs… gawd they were delicious. Can’t remember the last time I hadn’t had fried eggs to be honest. The service and the food was exemplary, and plenty of people walked away rather than wait; they really should have waited.
Quay Ingredient breakfast
Newcastle photos that weren't beer or pub related—whilst waiting hopefully for a bus.
So my day was set up and it was time to move on. First up was to be the Free Trade Inn a short bus ride to the east. The thick misty rain was still going when I walked to the nearest (very) bus stop. A bus was just passing as I go there, which turned out to be the bus I wanted. Ho hum. Twenty minutes until the next one, so I took the opportunity to walk along the riverside to the next stop so I could at least see a bit more of the city than the four walls of a pub—and the disappointing buses.
I got to the Free Trade Inn in good time (around 11:30) and had a couple of pints (Fyne Ales ‘Jarl’ and Burning Sky ‘Aurora’). It was all but empty when I arrived but soon enough people were coming in for one or more than one. It was both popular with regulars and visitors that were seeking it out.
Free Trade Inn, Town Mouse, Mean-Eyed Cat
Walking back over a road ‘bridge’ (not over the river, but just a steep section of general physical geography) it was back on to the same bus route I came in on (a No.3 I think) it was back westward toward the city. I was to get the bus to the end of the route to pick up some more pubs in the centre and then walk down to the station and ultimately back to Liverpool.
The Town Mouse was next among my recommendations from friends and colleagues. Took me a while to find it as I didn’t realise it was a basement micro pub and I was walking too and fro looking up and not down. Got there in the end—was probably two or three minutes but it felt like a lifetime-ish in the wet Tyneside rain. The barman in the Town Mouse was welcoming and giving me recommendations on places to go to. And the rain still rained. Started with an Elusive Brewing ‘Oregon Trail’ which was nice but not one to repeat (abv wise) so early in the day so followed up once more with another Two by Two, this time a ‘Summer Pale.’
No more buses were needed now. Thankfully. It was a pretty short walk (in the rainy rain) to the Mean-Eyed Cat. It was a bright place and had nice beer choices. Ended up with a Flying Gang once more, this time it was ‘All Fours.’ What with the run of pubs of mice and cats I supposed all fours was inevitable.
Anyone see I mean-eyed cat around here?
Heading back towards the station the next pub was to be the Wobbly Duck (still animal related but no longer one on all fours). Took a tiny detour as one thing that Newcastle suffers from is the multiple levels of the place. Google Maps finds it difficult; don’t sit beneath a bridge and ask Google for directions. When I did get to the square with the Wobbly Duck on the Google map wasn’t helping much. I almost asked a policeman for directions. The poor bobby was stood there on his lonesome next to a load of large deckchairs set up for a big screen showing the Women’s Wimbledon Final. Not sure whether the rain made any difference, but not one person was watching the tennis; there was just the copper with his back to it looking resigned (and possibly considering it).
The Wobbly Duck once again was a basement level bar. Had a nice vibe and chatted to a few people there. Didn’t take any photos and I have no idea what I drank. I dare say it may have been a Two by Two if I was a gambling man. I don't write these things down, I'm not so much a ticker and as photographic record kinda guy.
The final stop was to be the Centurion Bar in the railway station. Had a Hadrian Border ‘Northern IPA’ there before getting the train back. I was on time, and the train was on time. Basically the buses had been a bit of a nightmare over the weekend, but the trains had all been fine; maybe even dandy.
Centurion's Bar. Cheers, Newcastle. You've been ace.
It may have been thirty years since my last visit, but it wont be thirty more until the next one. Probably not anyway. Thank you Newcastle (apart from your bus drivers) you were a blast (if a slightly damp one).