From the ridge that is Crinkle Crags, I could see all of Lakeland spread out around me: Scafell Pike to the west, Windermere in the east and there below, smack in the centre of it all, an emerald green lozenge of pastureland called Langdale. Further afield were the purple shadows of the Isle of Man, the Scottish hills and north Wales. On the summit of Bowfell in a fading light I found two other walkers already planning their evening.

"We'll probably carry on around the horseshoe and walk down by Dungeon Ghyll to the Stickle Barn. A pint of Westmorland Gold in there – if it's on. Very smooth, quite light and refreshing. One of those will do nicely."

"Or two," added his friend.

"Then yomp down the valley to Wainwrights. I like the Coniston Bluebird in there. One of those."

"Or two."

By the time this conversation had played out, I was ready for the most direct route I could find to the nearest pub, which happened to be the one where I'd arranged to meet my brother, Chris. He'd gone down from the fells an hour earlier, complaining of knee problems, but I suspected thirst had played a part in his decision too.

It was getting dark and any warmth the sun had brought was rapidly disappearing as I walked down into the head of Langdale. There was one light I was heading for. Crossing Oxendale Beck I lost sight of it in the trees, but finally it was there again under a sign, The Old Dungeon Ghyll Hotel: Hikers Bar. I opened the door. There was a fire going in the range and a fine spread of hand pumps. And what better sight is there after a long day's hiking than a selection of real ales? I joined Chris in what must have once been a cow byre and got started with Yates bitter from Wigton.

It was not always like this. Not so long ago a walker arriving at most pubs in Britain was likely to be greeted with the meagre and depressing products of a corporatised brewing world. I would quickly swill down a half-pint of horrible lager and beat a retreat. The day's walking would somehow have lost its crowning glory.

Those bad old days are gone, in Langdale at least. The eight pubs dotted around the valley are benefiting from an explosion in microbreweries – more than 30 in the Lakeland region alone. I hope the corporate giants are choking. When your tired limbs carry you into any one of these places there is the sweet sight of about half a dozen pumps, many of them carrying beers made within a few miles. You settle down with an OS map and a weather report and plan the next day's trek.

Ben Clarke, assistant manager at the Langdale Hotel near Elterwater (its bar is called Hobson's), puts it succinctly: "Nowadays Langdale is just the best beer garden in the world."

Clarke was one of a team of people who put the eight Langdale pubs into a smartphone app (langdale.co.uk/langdale.htm), a simple and free bit of software that gives you locations, names of beers and other information. It also gives you a 10% discount on the beers themselves.

"There was some suspicion about it at first," he says. "Not everyone understood that we did it for the community."

For us the benefit was immediately obvious. Having arrived in Langdale late and wanting a pint, we worked out that there was time to nip up to the Three Shires, a pub that many people scarcely know exists, so reclusive is its location on the Wrynose Pass. Without the app I would never have thought of it, and would have missed tasting Ulverston Brewery's Laughing Gravy.

Back down in the main valley, we popped into the Britannia, probably the best-known pub in Langdale, with a commanding position on the green in Elterwater village. The craic here was something else, with an Irish contingent volubly and hilariously describing preparations for the Bob Graham challenge, the famed 42 Lakeland peaks in 24 hours race.

"It's all in the nostrils," they assured us, knocking back pints faster than they would ever do fells. "Don't waste time training with yer legs and all that. Get your nostrils widened – more oxygen in, y'see."

Next day the weather was horrible, but we trudged up to Stickle Tarn, turned west and met a furious volley of hail. Our plan was to climb up the Langdale Pikes, but uncertainty was in the air, along with a second, even more vicious, blast of ice. That decided our direction: east, back down Easedale and into Grasmere. The weather perked up only a little, but the waterfalls were spectacular. Coming over Loughrigg Fell I spotted our nearest pub, Wainwrights, and within an hour, as darkness fell, we were pleasurably ensconced in front of pints of Corby Ale from the Cumberland Brewery (just two years old and with a great future, judging on this pint).

We stayed at the Langdale Hotel, which has a steam room, an almost unimaginable luxury after such a day of bleak weather (other hotels and campsites up the valley have deals with the Langdale's excellent spa). Once cleaned up, we tried its Hobson's bar and LangdAle, brewed by Jennings in Cockermouth.

The following morning, against all odds and forecasts, dawned clear and bright, a fabulous day in prospect. It seemed like a day for views, hence the decision to tackle Crinkle Crags, and finally that thirsty trudge back to the Hikers Bar in the twilight.

The Yates went down sweetly, followed by a Black Sheep (okay, a Yorkshire beer but a worthy companion). In front of the fire, the locals were getting up a head of steam.

"I like the winters here," insisted one, "Coming down from the fells with spindrift snow all in me beard."

A group of Japanese tourists arrived and sat on the stone window seat.

"You'll get piles," warned the locals. The Japanese consulted a dictionary, moved towards the fire and entered the craic. A group of male walkers couldn't decide where to sit.

"It's musical chairs," chuckled the locals, who now included the Japanese. The trio entered the craic as I dragged myself to bed. At 1am I woke for a moment and heard voices outside. Japanese and local. "When I started farming here …"

It had indeed been a very good night, in one of those English pubs. You may remember them: they served drinks nobody wanted, became outdated and had to close down.

• Doubles at the Langdale Hotel (015394 38014, langdale.co.uk) cost from £125 B&B. More information from golakes.co.uk, langdale.co.uk/dine/wainwrights, odg.co.uk, threeshiresinn.co.uk, britinn.net and bobgrahamclub.co.uk