Today, a lesson in the violence of the motorway; the violence of the ever-speeding traffic thrusting through Junction 23 below Outlane – its noise, the disruption in the air; but also and mainly the violence of its construction. For Outlane is a severed village. Viciously severed. You might sense this if you’re driving eastwards and notice just by the bridge across the junction, a row of houses directly abutting the carriageways’ edge, rising high and sudden above the road. You certainly sense this if you stand where those houses are, for this is New Hey Road, cruelly cut-off at Leeches Hill, a long road out of Huddersfield which has been re-routed to continue across the motorway roundabout but whose original course on the opposite side of the motorway has become another cruelly inflicted dead-end.
In the part of Outlane now parallelling the north of the M62 there’s a hotel called The Old Golf House. Further on there’s evidence of the old clubhouse, and a road running underneath the motorway which is an access route to the course itself. In other words, the motorway runs right through Outlane Golf Course.
Along New Hey Road a new house is being built opposite the Methodist church. It’s in the spooky old churchyard and the new owners have inscribed its name above the arched doorway: THE CRYPT. At the church (articulated wagons tearing past the windows of the beautiful new prayer room) Rob the minister tells me that many Outlane newcomers come because they want a quiet place to live which is convenient for their daily commutes to Leeds or Bradford or Manchester; but they don’t need any amenities because they’re not here in the week. So the Post Office goes without a protest. Meanwhile older folks keep the remnant of community life going – though some move out to areas closer to shops and other places of meeting. I wonder if this pattern will change as the young families grow older, take early retirement and begin to want to move in more local circuits themselves. Maybe then the Post Offices or equivalents will begin to return.
A rich day’s walking, from Lindley with a few folks gathered by Nicki, and some good conversations with folks living on Leeches Hill including an older man, building a new wall in York stone, content to be living alongside one of the nation’s busiest stretches of road. He was even at ease about the prospect of a proposed M62 widening, which would position his house right on the side of the expanded roundabout. Perhaps thinking that he may not be around to see that expansion happen; perhaps content that ninety percent of the view from his home is one of the loveliest anywhere, the motorway a shining shunting distraction from the expanse of ancient green on which it sits.