The Black Lion at Consall Forge is not a pub one finds by accident unless the day has already made up its mind to be interesting, and the road down, rough enough to slow the wheels and sharpen the eye, leads you steadily through woodland until the place reveals itself in its own pocket of the Churnet Valley, tucked well away from the ordinary traffic of the world.

It sits above the River Churnet, with the Cauldon Canal and the Churnet Valley Railway close at hand, so that arrival feels less like pulling into a car park and more like crossing a small but definite threshold, reached by track, by canal path, or by the quiet logic of a valley that has long carried boats, trains, walkers and working lives through it.

On a sunny late spring day, the setting does much of the work for you, with trees holding the place in, the river moving steadily below, and the canal lending everything a slower, more deliberate rhythm, so that the effort of getting here, never difficult but always just enough, settles into the satisfaction of a first drink that feels properly earned.

Just beyond the pub, the old lime kilns sit quietly against the valley side, their curved stone openings still intact and darkened by time, offering a reminder of the industry that once shaped this stretch of the Churnet and lending the place a sense of depth, as though the valley had been working long before it learned to receive visitors.

The Black Lion works because it belongs to its setting and makes no attempt to be anything other than what it is, carrying the feel of a well-used countryside pub that serves walkers, railway visitors, canal wanderers and those who take some pleasure in finding themselves somewhere slightly removed from the usual run of things.

The railway, running close by, brings with it a quiet history that sits easily alongside a pint, first opened in the mid-19th century to serve the valley’s industry, carrying limestone, copper and iron as well as the men who worked them, before falling silent as road transport took over, and later returning in a more measured way as a heritage line, where steam trains now move again through the valley, not out of necessity but out of respect for what was built here and the steady rhythm it once kept.

For visitors, the drive down requires a little care, particularly where the surface has taken weather, although the better approach may be on foot along the canal from Froghall or Cheddleton, where the journey becomes part of the visit and the valley reveals itself gradually, with water, woodland and railway all keeping company.

The Captain would mark this one plainly, as a great pub in the wilds, reached by track, canal and railway, sitting above the river without fuss or pretence, and on a clear spring day it is difficult to think what more could reasonably be asked.