Motorists will recall the tedium of their crawl through the bottleneck that was Moate. Since the bypass was opened they will be relieved that this trial has been removed - but what do the townsfolk think?, asks Róisín Ingle
EFFIN Moate. Bloody Moate. For Jaysis sake, not Moate. Sitting in Terry Coughlan's pub in (feckin) Moate, locals are having a laugh about the fact that for years the name of the Co Westmeath town was preceded by some class of disparaging description.
"I was in Clifden two years ago," recalls 90-year-old Tom Young. "I went into a barber for a haircut and the man said 'where are you from?' and I said, 'have you ever heard tell of a place called Moate?' 'Oh Jesus,' he says, 'don't mention it. I know too much about the place. An hour extra on the journey to Dublin. That's Moate'." Or that used to be Moate, at any rate. The opening of the new section of the N6 motorway three weeks ago changed that status utterly. No more interminable three-mile tailbacks interrupting the journey on the Dublin to Galway road. No more marathon "are we there yet, no we're still in Moate" journeys spent inching past the town's Grand Hotel and Supermacs. Gone, that extra hour or so spent staring out at lorries, bumper to bumper. And no more struggling to squeeze into non-existent parking spaces just to grab a coffee to break a journey which never seemed to end. The old Moate is no more.
This is Moate now, on a damp bank holiday Friday morning, newly-bypassed like the nearby towns of Kilbeggan and Horseleap. Locals duck out of the rain into the Pantry Cafe, crossing the wide street easily, barely pausing to look right or left.
Apart from a trickle of passing cars, a few buses and the occasional bicycle, the road is unrecognisable from its years spent languishing as the worst bottleneck in the State or, if you were feeling really dramatic, the world.
A big red tractor trundles past, going around 60mph. The road ahead is free for the driver and empty behind him. The only thing more symbolic of the transformation wrought on the town by the opening of the new bypass would be a lone tumbleweed drifting delicately across the road. And it feels as though even this might be possible in the new, reimagined Moate this morning, if only it weren't so damp.
AS JOHN WATERS WROTE in this newspaper recently "we owe Moate an apology". His article outlining the years of hurt inflicted on Moate, which he described as a "national scapegoat", was welcomed in a place where locals are slowly coming to terms with their new environment. It's as if, after having been the most unpopular fellow at school, shunned for having bad breath and coming last in every race, Moate has suddenly blossomed. The only problem is there aren't many people around to see it.
"At this time on a bank holiday Friday morning, we would have been jammed," says Annette Dalton, owner of The Pantry, which this morning only has a handful of customers lingering over her home-made iced cakes, scones and brown bread. Before the town was bypassed, she wouldn't have had time to sit down and chat. "There's no doubt about it, business is down, we had huge passing trade but it's gone. The minute that new road opened you could see the difference."
In the old days she would have recognised half the people in the shop, families who had been travelling the Dublin-Galway road for years, always stopping in her cafe for refreshments. "There are a few who have come back, they say 'look we told you we would be back' and so I suppose we will get a bit of that, but there used to be 10,000 cars passing through this town every day and so businesses are going to feel the difference," she says.
At the next table, brother and sister Ed and Yvonne from Dublin are on their way to a yoga holiday in the Burren. The directions they got from the yoga centre instructed them to go through Moate, so that's exactly what they did. "We'd been looking for a place like this to break the journey," says Yvonne, tucking into an iced bun. "I would definitely come through Moate again. This place is lovely." Annette looks on approvingly, hoping there will be more customers like these, drawn back to Moate despite the efficiency of the new road.
IN COUGHLAN'S PUB, proprietor Terry Coughlan reckons it will be six months before locals can expect to have an accurate reading on how the new road has affected the town. "The traffic used to be relentless," he says. "It started at 3am with lorries coming in and it never really stopped. You just got used to the noise level, the dust and the dirt and the fumes. Sometimes in the evening with the door open, it was like New York with the sirens of ambulances or police cars trying to get through the traffic. We were frustrated but there was nothing we could do."
And now? "Well, you can see for yourself, there's still people coming into Moate, a steady flow of traffic but it's not the same place at all," he says. His customers, finding it easier to get into the town and to secure parking, agree. "I come to Moate to drink porter," says Tom Young who has been drinking in Coughlan's for 50 years and says the secret of his 90 years is just good genes. "And he's well minded," says his wife Anna, herself a thriving 82-year-old. "I do notice a difference," says Tom, considering matters over his lunchtime pint. "And I think Moate will be a better place altogether because of the new road."
Sitting at the bar, Jimmy Mahon says he's been speaking to people recently who, despite living only a few miles outside Moate, hadn't been into the town for 10 years.
"It was just too much hassle, especially for older people, it took them an age to get in and then they had to twist and turn to get into a parking space, so they'd head to Athlone instead," he says. Now those people are coming back and they are welcome, he says. "We don't miss the people who drove through without stopping, the ones stuck in their cars in traffic jams and the lorries, they were no good to Moate. But we are happy to get back the people who couldn't come before," says Jimmy.
In this sense, it's as though the town has been given back to the locals. "You can't beat Moate for food and drink and socialising and civility," adds Tom, who should really be signed up by Fáilte Ireland. Terry Coughlan brandishes a leaflet local businesses have produced. "Stop In Moate," it says.
Ask and locals will give you all sorts of reasons to Stop In Moate. The Grand Hotel has a great carvery, they say, and the Tuar Ard arts centre with its bustling coffee shop is well worth a visit.
The town is "the gateway to Clonmacnoise" and, if that's not enough to tempt you, Moate people are a genuinely friendly bunch. Everywhere local cars stop to let you cross the road, smiling and waving you on as though revelling in their new found non-pariah status.
IN ONE OF THE local butchers, Peter Gillivan reports business is up as locals turned off by the relentless traffic come back into the town. His shop is packed this morning. Miriam Doyle is buying chicken breasts and rolled turkey. "I think it's absolutely brilliant," she says of the new Moate. "I live in the next parish and I can drive straight in. I work in Athlone and now I can stay in bed an extra 10 minutes."
And despite the fact that her takings are down, Annette Dalton at The Pantry admits that it's not all bad news. She agrees the elimination of the legendary Moate tailback makes the town more pleasant and that the downturn in business has improved her quality of life. She got out walking four times last week and went horse-riding for the first time in 20 years.
"So there is a benefit," she says. "And now at least I get time to talk to the customers, where before I was so busy I didn't get the chance. People are in better form around Moate, these days, definitely more relaxed." Yet another reason to Stop In Moate. And maybe we should, just for old times' sake.