Before we set off a few people said to me how much they wanted to do a beer tour of Belgium by bike. A better place to neck pints of session ale, amend your ferry booking and rain down curses upon Google Maps I could not imagine.
We escaped to the peaks and troughs of the A20 across a field whose primary crop was bicycle-clogging clods of clay, then on to the roaring fires and well-kept pints of the White Hart pub in Hythe 71 High St, Hythe CT21 5AJ; A race along the seafront through Folkestone brought us to the suburbs of Dover and the foot of the White Cliffs, where I took a wrong turn then insisted we climb a strange iron staircase to the start of a ft trail up the cliffside.
Then amended the ferry booking. A wonderful little pub at the top of Dover Hill, which we cycled blindly into after scaling Dover Mountain and setting up camp in a nearby field, the staff are friendly, the darts are loud, and the ale Real and very well kept.
No matter! We entered Dunkerque on the motorway. Testament to the greatness of this beer, which was conceived on a bike trip hopefully better planned than our own, was how much we enjoyed it in our sticky trench.
A nutty, pitch-dark ale, it rolled dark fruit and coffee; thick like a stout but lifted by a bit of fizz although that might have something to do with rolling down an embankment and zingy hops.
