The Denton Pub and Getting There

Monday I made it to Denton. This time I had a map I'd found over the weekend that showed the villages in the area and a few of the public footpaths. Still, it is hard to follow the map because, as you can see in the picture, a public footpath is rarely a physical path. If I'm lucky, the grass or other vegetation is slightly worn down, giving me some sense of where to go. Most of the time I don't have any idea if I'm still on the path until I come across the next fence crossing.

I took the scenic route to Denton, not wanting to get to the pub too much before it opened. After all, Denton is only about 2 miles away and it was just after 9A when I started out. So I headed toward the Denton Reservoir. It is a small body of water with ducks and swans and a few fishermen. From the reservoir I used the map to get to the village of Denton. I had been told I'd go through a field with horses, but there are multiple footpaths that lead to Denton and I was on one that went through another field of cows. Crossing over the fence I could see the cows up ahead and I could also tell that the path went right between two black cows. I wouldn't have had the courage to keep going, but just then up a small slope walked a couple and their dog. I asked if it was safe to walk so close to the cows and they replied that it was no problem. On I went. Just after taking this photo, as I approached the two black cows, I looked around me and saw this:

'It's a f---ing bull!' I exclaimed out loud. A British person would have said the same thing, but in a casual tone. They use the word rather liberally here. I said it in an alarmed voice. Still, I charged onward, determined to 'Grab life (if not the bull) by the horns.'

Actually, I proceeded cautiously and made it safely

through the field. When I got home and told the story to Rodd, he tried to minimize my adventure and told me it was likely a steer, not a bull, that I had seen. Whatever it was, it had horns and we were in the same field. Besides, there were a lot of calves around and they had to have come from somewhere.

I reached Denton about 10:30 but discovered the pub didn't open until noon. There is absolutely nowhere in Denton to pass time other than the pub and the church. I spent 1 1/2 hours exploring every detail, every corner of the small, 14th century church. I have vowed to never go anywhere again without bringing along a book.

British pubs aren't what I expected. I thought I'd find centuries-old buildings with dark, smoke-filled rooms full of old men who pass their days drinking beer and eating cheese sandwiches. The Welby Arms in Denton, like the other pubs I've been in so far, is nothing like that. It is a bright, nicely decorated restaurant serving fairly expensive meals - and smoking is banned. How disappointing! True to my expectations, though, they serve great beer. The pub in Harlaxton, within walking distance of the Manor, held its Summer Fest 2008 this past weekend. They had 21 ales on tap. Rodd and I went twice, the second time taking the boys along and they had a glass of pop while we sampled some more. There were ales from all over England and their tastes are definitely unique and quite different from our beer in the U.S.

The Welby Arms in Denton

This morning I went on a long bike ride along the Grantham tow path. There is a canal that runs east-west and passes by about 2 miles from the Manor. Alongside the canal is the tow path. Rodd jogs on it most mornings and he took me and the boys to see it on Sunday before we went to the pub. The college has an assortment of unreliable bikes for use and this morning I took one out. I haven't heard of anyone yet who has taken a bike out and not experienced some problem with it. The easiest to solve is the chain coming off, the worst I've heard is the back tire popping. I experienced the lesser of the troubles. It probably wouldn't have happened at all but I stopped on the ride home to pick blackberries and when I layed the bike down, the chain came off. I had no difficulty putting it back on but my hands were totally black when I was through. Apparently the one bit of maintenance they do on the bikes is to keep the chains well greased. I had a bottle of water with me and Rodd's backpack which he keeps well-stocked with napkins so I was able to clean up enough to not ruin my clothing.

On my bike ride I came across a pub called The Dirty Duck located just off the tow path. Its doors were wide open at 10:30A and I could hear men's voices coming from inside. I had no money on me so I didn't go in, but it sounds and looks promising so I plan to return next week.

Cheers!