An Ode To The Calder Valley: Home

There’s this loop I love to do on all sorts of kinds of days. The ones where you’ve just finished working from home and need to get out and stretch your legs. The ones where you’re filled to the brim with excitement and need to rinse the whizzyness out of your system. Or, the ones where you’re a bit sad and want to feel it, gently.

This is how it goes.

Out The Back Door

You walk behind the length of the terrace’s backyards, sidestepping the recycling bins and giving a quick wave to the boys playing cricket. Then across the road and past the bus depot across the road from the little Tesco. Down the cobbled street next to the old mill with the big trees behind and the mossy wall that I like to peer at.

That’s the wall where I once noticed Sycamore seeds germinating in the crevices, and webs made by insects linking plant to plant. Where once, with my loves, we stopped for Dad’s favourite steak sandwiches in The Shears, like we used to back in the old days.

And once, with another love, I had crouched to flick the arm of a moss to show tiny spores releasing into the wind and turned to notice a glimpse of wonder in his eyes.

There’s a steep bit after the industrial estate where I fast-walk if it’s a running day, or slow-walk if it’s a walking-and-looking day. Then, you emerge on the other side at the The Cross Keys pub. Another steep cobbled lane (a Calder Valley trademark!) before the flat road behind the back of the new-build estate where you catch your breath. To your left, there are fields surrounded by thick hedges where the birds congregate and sing in a choir. There’s the first view of Halifax to your right.

At the top of the hill is where I like to stop and look. Sometimes I sit on the stones of the drystone wall. Usually, I stand, chin up, shoulders back, and feel a bit like I’m surveying my kingdom. A feeling that was embodied by another love, my not-so-little-anymore brother, Dan, when he stood and looked out over that land that is his kingdom too.

Dan and Huddersfield Road, glistening in that drizzly sunshine.

My eyes find Huddersfield Road and follow it along to Mum’s allotment just beneath Calderdale Royal Hospital. They pick out our end-of-terrace house from the rows of chimneys above The Shay football stadium, catching the rays of sideways afternoon sun.

They trace the length of Free School Lane to the moor and watch the clouds pass behind Wainhouse Tower. Then, they settle to rest on Granny’s house, Middle Cottage, nestled in the middle of Manor Heath Park. Appropriately named and easily recognisable!

I’ll call in for a cuppa later.

Wainhouse Tower and the terraces.

On a clear day, in every direction, you can see right down all the valleys that stretch out between the hills like veins. I notice the trees. They are still relatively abundant here, for England. I acknowledge my gratitude for the steepness of our valleys.

If it’s dusk and you look behind you, you’ll see the twinkling red lights of Emley Moor mast above Huddersfield, a physical marker of college days and hours spent queueing in traffic at Ainley Top on the 503.

Then, I always turn back and gaze eastwards to squint down the Calder Valley, longing to see the point on the moor that is Stoodley Pike. It's funny how it’s Stoodley rather than Wainhouse Tower that feels like it’s mine.

Wainhouse is Dan’s tower! He always used to announce that to us on Sunday nights as we arrived back from a weekend exploring in our tent or a YHA hidden in the hills somewhere. Forehead pressed against the window, and finger orientating the direction of home on breath-steamed glass.

Choose Your Version

If I do the short version of my loop, I run down from there across the field that is filled with Dandelion, Creeping Buttercup, and Ribwort Plantain in the summer. Then, weave my thighs through thick vertical stones that style the drystone walls and turn right down Rosemary Lane. Saw a really good double rainbow there once.

A summer loop day.

Otherwise, if I choose the long version, it’s on over the crest of the hill and down the other side, through Cromwell Wood towards Elland way.

There’s some magic in those woods. Do you know that feeling where it’s like someone switched a light on when you’re fumbling around trying to find a lost belonging in a dark room? Sometimes that happens to me in there.

Today, I met Wood Anemone in those woods for the first time, couldn’t believe I’d never seen her before. A sweet, delicate soul!

Wood Anemone.

Once, on a tired-legs-tired-head day in winter, I lay in a bed of Polytrichum moss under the tall, leafless Oaks and Beeches and watched their fingers gently swaying in the wind. I just lay, watched, and breathed. The worries seeped out of my synapses into the soil. Grounded. Earthed. Whatever you wanna call it.

Moss-eye view.

A Chance Encounter

After I met Wood Anemone, I met a man crossing the gate coming up from the river where the cows tread their heavy hooves and leave the soil in a right mess. I was laughing sheepishly from having to stop myself from promptly colliding with both him and the gate, just in time. It was a buzzy head day.

This guy looked familiar though, and I wondered if I’d seen him earlier that morning outside Tesco. I’d smiled to myself when I’d seen a fellow dancing to himself and bobbing along as he walked, he must have been listening to some tunes. I like it when people express themselves.

I glanced at his jacket pocket which indeed had a red scorpion embroidered on the right side, and I clocked his epic sideburns. Yep, that was him alright! I was intrigued by what he might have to say…

We greeted each other with a cheerful hello and talked. He’d moved over to Sowerby from Burnley if I remember correctly. I asked why he chose the valley. He said he’d come over as a kid to visit the Piece Hall with his family. Liked it. We fondly expressed our love for this place where we’d stumbled upon our respective homes.

He asked what I was up to. I told him I was living with my parents for this in-between period before going to South America soon, and that I’d been there in 2022 and loved it.

“Yeah, but come back here won’t you?”, he said.

Ohhhh. I vented some exasperation about the state of the UK at the moment; how worn out we are as a nation, the state of our Nature and just how much needs regenerating. Plants, people, and soil alike.

“The good people can’t leave, right?”, he said, “It takes time, but it’ll get better. That’s generations worth of restoration that, innit.”

I just put my hand over my heart and turned to look at the river.

Before we parted ways, he invited me to come to his open mic night “Technical Difficulties”, experimental music with alternative rock, free jazz, and freak folk. Sounded curious. “First Wednesday of every month”, he said. He encouraged me to come before I go away, or “you know, in a couple of months, when you get back”. Hmm.

“It’s in Halifax is it?”, I asked. “Nah, Sowerby. Sowerby Bridge is where it’s at nowadays”, he replied. “Yeah! My friends just bought a house there!”, I exclaimed back, proudly.

He wrote the details on the back of his business card which he handed to me. I turned it over in my hands and slid it into the pocket of my leggings. Wondered if I might be able to go and who might like to come.

“It’s nice to talk to someone friendly, you know. Everyone has their heads down these days” he said, gesturing to cover his eyes like a horse wearing blinkers.

I nodded and wondered if that was something that might change.

There’s been many a time I’ve wished us Brits would just loosen up a bit. If someone could just give us a shake, would the unnecessary stresses seep out of our systems? Then we could just chill out a bit.

That’s part of the reason I like South America so much. The people are relaxed, and they welcome you with open arms!

It’s just pretty engrained here, isn’t it? We’ve got a reputation for being a bit uptight, and straight, checking our charts and watches. It’s those ties from post-colonial societies, old-fashioned traditions, and outdated educational systems. Or troubled childhoods. They wrap around us and become deeply embedded. Like the tree whose skin curls over the wire fence that restricts her growth.

The thing is though, we don’t even realise that it’s bothering us until someone points it out. Then, you start to notice the pain it’s causing and you have to prise out those wires that are buried deep in flesh. It leaves open wounds at first.

But wounds heal! Pretty wonderful that, isn’t it? It just takes time, loving attention, and patience.

Anyway, we said our see ya’s, turned on heels and went on our separate ways. I carried on with my loop.

On The Home Straight

After crossing the muddy river bank you go up the hill past the Wild Garlic and down again to cross the road at Cromwell Bottom Nature Reserve. I had a good chat with a smiley couple who were working on a van they were doing up there once. They made like six grand off doing up that van. Lucrative business nowadays. More people are getting out and about.

You cross the canal bridge and bounce down the steps where the ducks are always bobbing, waiting to be fed. That’s where you start seeing those people who’re enjoying being outside along the canal.

There are groups of friends donning matching puffy jackets and sunnies, gossiping. There are families with little ones wearing wellies, dinosaur hats and jazzy patterned leggings that I wish existed in adult sizes. There are people out solo jogging with dogs, or people meandering in pairs, coffee in hand, chatting.

I smile and say “Hiya, you alright!”, “Morning!” or grin and exclaim “Oh no, just looking at the moss!” when old ladies stop to ask if I’ve lost something.

You have to walk, quite far, actually, along the canal. Through Elland back towards Halifax. You keep walking until you go under the bridge where the light positively dances when the sun shines. Then, you navigate through the orange temporary fences next to the new roundabout at Salterhebble, where they’ve been opening up that new carriageway for what seems like my whole adult life.

Eventually, you get to the locks at the bottom where the canal boats are moored. Then there’s the sharp bend that goes round up to meet Huddersfield Road at the Premier Inn and Maccies. I always say hello to big Willow dripping her fingers just close enough to kiss the water. Today, I also saw a dead duck floating on the surface, head submerged, beak to the sky. Damn.

Nearly home now. It’s just a bit further along the cycle path and you’re back out at the industrial estate. You pass the converted mill which houses Artworks CIC (opened by Quentin Blake himself, a fact I didn’t know until recently!), the gym and the pottery cafe. It’s Shaw Lodge, a former textile mill and one of the many remnants of the industrial age that are now peppered throughout Calderdale, but once provided our bread and butter.

There you meet the cobbled lane with the mossy wall where we started. Then it’s up past the bus depot and the little Tesco. Behind the row of backyards, all the way to the end of the terrace, through the gate, and into Mum’s garden. And we’re back!

Mum’s garden.

There’s so much I like about this loop. I like it when Dad’s washing up and he’s left the back door open so I don’t have to get my key out when I’m back. I like it when it’s golden hour and the clouds are fluffy, dancing through bright, blue skies like giddy, happy girls who’ve drunk a little bit too much at a party. I like it too when it’s drizzling, quiet and grey. I really like that fresh light rain that dampens rosy cheeks. And, when it’s so cold and blustery your hair whips your face and sticks to chapped lips.

I like it when go on my own, listening to a podcast or BBC Sounds, because the radio has been feeling comforting, recently. I prefer it though when I’m listening to the world around me.

I like doing this loop in the company of myself because it feels like it’s mine and I have to protect it, maybe. But, I realised that I like it a bit more sometimes when one of my loves comes with me. Things are better when shared, I reckon.

You know what though. I think what I like best about this loop is that it just makes me feel like I’m home. You can write loads of words about it but it’s as simple as that. Isn’t it obvious?