Normanby - Normanby - London - Middlesbrough - Sheffield

September 23, 2008

Normanby - Normanby

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I was up early enough. A pair of local builders were cutting stone with a heavy bench cutter, set up in the pub car-park. There was talk in the bar the previous evening of the house being built next to the pub, so far just a concrete floor- slab. The foundation reinforcements had been misplaced. The two masons would have to sort it all out. While they waited for a decision from the local building control office, they were cutting stone for the outside walls.

Porridge inside me, I set out towards the North Yorkshire Moors, anticipating some more serious hill-climbing. I crossed into the North York Moors National Park and stopped in Hutton-le-Hole, probably the most picturesque village in the park. I was to have a slack day. The friend I was going to stay with on Teesside, would not be back from work until after 7pm.

I decided to have a look round the Ryedale Folk Museum. This extensively depicts North Yorkshire life from the Iron Age up to the near past, including reconstructions of domestic buildings and workshops. I took over 100 pictures. For those with an interest: http://picasaweb.google.com/mickajennings/RyedaleFolkMuseumHuttonLeHole#

I was hungry now. There was no village shop [should have gone to Kirkby Moorside] I ate a forgettable meal in the café next to the museum; Heinz baked beans and a Cornish pasty spring to mind, after which, it was time to go over the top. I learned from school geography, that the North Yorkshire Moors N.P. is a dissected plateau., in other words an area of high ground cut by river valleys. High here, is a comparative term, meaning high for England. The highest point is only 454 m. [1490 ft.] above sea level. For more information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/North_York_Moors

I was faced with a seven mile climb up Blakey Rigg, to a little beyond the Lion Inn. It was a slog, but rideable in low gear even with my load. If however, I had been climbing out of any of the side valleys, it would have been a different story. Of these, the steepest, the excruciating Rosedale Chimney Bank has a gradient of 33% or 1 in 3 as we would have said, when I last rode this way at the age of 15. Even then, I left the former iron-mining village of Rosedale, well alone. I remember watching a stage of the Tour of Britain bike race on TV as they rode over the moors. I saw an Italian, professional road-racer get off and push his bike up Rosedale Chimney Bank. I assume he was badly advised on gearing.

Road to Farndale, famous for its carpet of daffodils in spring.

More moorland. It's there so rich men can shoot little birds.

The descent was disappointing, steeper and shorter than the way I'd climbed. I had to keep an eye out for wayward sheep. Below Castleton, I now had to climb out of the Esk valley. I too was forced to walk a section, up to the first bend of the ascent; road too steep, bike too heavy. Oh the shame

In the distance, Roseberry Topping, the Cleveland Matterhorn.

Once above Castleton, I'd more or less cracked it. Teesside's downhill from here. Or so I thought. On the A174, there was another uphill run, I'd forgotten about, to the top of Birk Brow, a spectacular hairpin drop off the moors down into the town of Guisborough.

Evidence of a more recent Iron Age. Lingdale mine shale tip. A faint North Sea in the background.

First sight of smokestacks, from Birk Brow.

I was brought up in the nearby town of Redcar. Until 2006, when my mother died, that's where I would have been going. Now though, I was to stay at a friend's house in Normanby, South-east of Middlesbrough.

My intention was to take a minor road, which skirts the eastern edge of the Eston Hills, through the village of Wilton, whose name was given to the massive chemical works, which lies just below. First I had to find it. I couldn't remember where in Guisborough, it started. I asked directions from a middle-aged couple. They warned me about the potential danger of the very narrow Wilton Bank. I thanked them and expecting an easy run in, found myself climbing again. It should have been obvious really, what goes down must go up. Still, given that I was so close to an explosion of industrial landscape, not to mention the occasional real life explosion, I should have been grateful for the quiet. Traffic was almost non-existent.

Sun shines on New Marske, from the Wilton road.

Ships on the tide, about to enter the Tees.

I hit the A174 road and for the next few miles was gifted with intermittent views of industrial Teesside. I arrived at Pete's house just after 7pm about ten minutes after he and Faith, his wife returned from work in Workington.

Middlesbrough's transporter bridge, centre distance.

Today's ride: 56 km (35 miles)
Total: 530 km (329 miles)

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