Presuming you’re not a swimmer, it’s likely the word “crawl” evokes a limited set of associations. You may recall being stuck on a packed train which “slowed to a crawl”, usually within a hundred feet of your destination. You may be reminded of certain politicians who “make your skin crawl”. Or perhaps, particularly if you’re from Great Britain, you may alight on that long-established and widely applied phrase: “pub crawl”.

The first two examples suggest “crawl” often comes with negative connotations, whether connected to transport or members of Parliament. It’s also true that for some, when the term is applied to a period of drinking in different establishments, less positive images might spring to mind.

Groups in fancy dress lurching obliviously through rush-hour traffic. Ill-considered, al-fresco toilet stops. A lone straggler swaying towards the neon oasis of a takeaway.

Yes, some pub crawls can bring out the worst aspects of British drinking culture, which include peer pressure, mindless and harmful over-consumption, and minimal thought for how boisterous, boozy behaviour can impact on anyone who happens to be nearby. However, they can also result in some of the most fun, unique, and beloved drinking memories.

Whereas one or two drinks in a single spot can limit conviviality, a pub crawl helps remove atmospheric constraints. Key to this is the inherent rhythm of the event, especially when you walk between watering holes. Not only does stretching the legs help prevent inebriation reaching undesired levels, but the switch from seated to strolling and the different durations of each walk echo the dynamics of conversation. Pub crawls permit long, looping chats as well as short bursts of observation and humour; they provide time and space to vary the pace and subjects of discussion.

““There are also important decisions to be made during the crawl, which can present equal potential for triumph and disaster.””

Even before the event itself, satisfaction can be found in deliberating the optimal route for a given crowd or day. It’s pleasing to feel that your group has plotted a course free of repetition, redundancy, and, ideally, the requirement to go back in the direction you came from.

There are also important decisions to be made during the crawl, which can present equal potential for triumph and disaster. Do you opt for a pint of that 6% IPA as your first drink? Delicious, yes, but potentially the equivalent of sprinting the first mile of a marathon, with similar implications for the rest of the exercise. (One similarity between pub crawls and distance running is that drinking water at some stage is advisable.)

Some drinkers take the opposite approach: a soft launch of bitter or mild, then a gradual shift through stronger tipples towards a crescendo of inky imperial stout. For those who want novelty, other philosophies are available. You could trace an alphabet of pump clips, starting with Amity Brew Co and reaching Zapato by way of The Kernel and RedWillow. Alternatively, pick a geographical point and work your way north or south as desired. If you’d like to travel the UK, see if you can open with something from Fierce Beer or Beak Brewery.

What about refuelling? Food is essential on any long voyage, but that tempting plate of pie, mash, and peas could result in a strong desire for a nap after pub three, sabotaging the rest of your carefully curated plan.

Balance, then, appears key. And along with the pleasure of picking the perfect blend of food and drink comes another treat: the mix of venues. You might alternate venerable, dark-wood institutions with places where the paint’s barely dry, or snug spaces with cavernous coaching houses. Catching up with seldom-seen friends may first call for a quiet corner, before you head to a place buzzing with human energy to shift your night forwards.

Personally, I believe crawls are best served in winter. That rush of warmth on entering a pub hits even stronger when it replaces the cheek-tingling air of a December evening. There’s also something lovely about meeting friends in the day, then emerging from your latest stop to see dusk has cloaked the rooftops and the streetlights have started their shift. That visible change bolsters the sense of setting aside time for people you care about: since you met up, nobody’s glanced at the clock.

Speaking of care, one rather touching aspect of a crawl is knowing someone has put real thought into it. “I knew you’d like it here,” they say—and you do. If you’re lucky, your crawl conductor will be a natural at raising anticipation levels. My friend Matt did such a good job extolling the virtues of “the snug” in Sheffield institution Fagan’s that by the time we arrived, a stretch of faded green seating had attained near-mythical status. When the door creaked to show the hallowed ground unoccupied, there was a joyous outpour of relief, laughter, and, shortly afterwards, Guinness.

““The beauty of the pub crawl is the sheer range of possibilities it can offer.””

Discovering previously unknown pubs, and indeed entire areas, is an especially joyful facet of a crawl. On one London excursion our group ventured down a street which, appearing entirely residential, suggested we were adrift in unfamiliar territory. However, the darkness unveiled a corner and beyond it, glowing through the mist like a lighthouse, was Belgravia’s The Grenadier. I’m yet to experience a more vivid example of a pub “revealing itself”, as the comedian John Robins puts it.

Conversely, it can be just as satisfying to know exactly where you’re heading. For instance, those lucky enough to be drinking in Newcastle Upon Tyne might begin at the Crown Posada, before turning onto the city’s Quayside and heading towards the Ouseburn area. This would mean that, on a clear day, they’d have sight of their ultimate destination throughout the rest of their walk.

On the way, they could enjoy superb snacks at The Broad Chare and perhaps some live music at The Tyne Bar, before processing up the final hill and arriving at the magnificent Free Trade Inn, where, for a final flourish, they could place their perfect pint by the pub’s high window and gaze at the postcard picture they’d just strolled through.

The beauty of the pub crawl is the sheer range of possibilities it can offer, enhanced by the growing range of good no or low-alcohol options for those who wish to remain clear-headed. You can decide whether you want a day of exploring and expanding your mental map, or the comforting inevitability of settling into a sequence you’ve enjoyed many times before.

With all that said, the one essential ingredient—beyond any particular beer, building, or food—remains the same: your chosen company. The pace of life can sometimes make it feel like the only realistic option is “a swift half” with the one friend who’s free on the way home from work, with the location determined by convenience and capacity. I think that means it’s more worthwhile than ever to set aside as much time as you can, round up some mates, and slow to a crawl.