Outward Bound

The last seven decades have seen more changes in our way of life than perhaps in any comparable period.
This is certainly true of our way of 'getting about' - of transport. Unless one was well off, 'shank's pony' was the order of the day. To get to Castleford, for example, one had three options. The first was to walk 'over the locks', which was a short cut. The land at Copy Corner at Newton was not then under water and one could walk past Newton Abbey, over the fields, and over the canal by a bridge across the locks - actually the lock barrier, and so into Lock Lane and Castleford. The first stop was a cafe of sorts in the market for a cup of tea, then shopping and home - exhausted. Alternatively, one could walk down past the cut to the river and there take the ferry boat across to the other side and then on through Fryston Pit Yard to Castleford. The boatman had a hut this side where he would wait for passengers. It was a terrifying but fascinating trip across. The ferryman didn't go straight across but diagonally and the boat wobbled from side to side. It was a terrific thrill but I was always glad to have my feet on terra firma afterwards. Sometimes one had to wait until the barges, which plied regularly up and down the river, had passed and their wash subsided. These were horse-drawn in those days and the horses plodded stoically along the towpath on the side of the river, pulling the barge along with a thick heavy rope, which slapped rhythmically on the bank, or in the water. The barges were gaily painted with traditional flowers, castles, etc. The whole family lived aboard and children scampered about as though they were on dry land. The rivers and canals were a thriving means The ferry boat was mainly for the use of the miners going to work and the boatmen - Mr. Wilkinson, Mr. Green were twi I remember, -were paid by the colliery. However, if it was foggy or the weather rough and the boat could not be used, the miners would climb on to the railway and walk down the line. One man was killed on such an occasion and after that the colliery attached the footbridge to the railway bridge and so the ferry boat came to an end. If one fancied a different route, one could walk down Burton Lane to the station at Burton Salmon and take a train on the London and North Eastern line to Castleford, or the London Midland and Scottish line to Pontefract - a much less harassing and comfortable way of travel. This way too there was the possibility of a lift home. Mr. Joe Bramley had a horse and trap and if he had been to the station on business (the railway being the chief means of carrying freight) and had room in his trap, he would give us a lift home. Mr. Ben Wright, too, led coal and other goods from the station and he would take our parcels if they were heavy. However, mechanisation was well on the way and, in 1924, Mr.Thomas the curate at the parsonage built the garage on the Great North Road. He was a mechanic and he built a wagonette which took us on outings to Fryston Hall and Roundhay Park. It was like a wagonette, high with seats along the side, uncomfortable and very dicy, but it got us to Castleford and back. Often we had to climb out at Caudle Hill and walk up, as the engine wouldn't take the load. Sometimes, we had to push the bus up, but it was worth it.

There were no time-tables, it was a case of pick up your passengers, race your opponent, and back again. This came to an end with the advent of Bullocks Buses, who bought out the others and instituted a regular service. It was daily, half hourly and 5d return. Meanwhile, Ford, with their small car and Austin with their Austin II, selling at £100 each, were putting cars within the scope of more people. After World War II, cars became more available and many families possesed one. The bus service was no longer viable and has become a skeleton service - at £1.28 return! For those who own no car things have almost gone full circle - shanks on!!
Then the garage changed hands and Mr. Milman bought the Rio -luxury indeed. The Pontefract brothers, Ken and Eric bought a bus, too, Chuck Robinson ran a car. This was a Saturday only service, and the competition between the transporters was terrific.