Normanby - Normanby - London - Middlesbrough - Sheffield - CycleBlaze

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.

Riverside campsite
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Stonecutting, Normanby.
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The Sun Inn Normanby
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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.

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Hutton-le-Hole
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Hutton-le-Hole
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Hutton-le-Hole
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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#

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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.

Blakey Rigg climb, looking back....
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... looking forward.
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Blakey Rigg view.
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Blakey Rigg view.
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Road to Farndale, famous for its carpet of daffodils in spring.
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More moorland. It's there so rich men can shoot little birds.
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View south.
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I'm still climbing.
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Lion Inn, in the distance.
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Add one.
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Road to Westerdale.
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Click for history.
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Rosedale
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Ralph's Cross
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Alternative route to Westerdale.
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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.
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Road to Rosedale.
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Road out, top left.
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Castleton, village and cricket field.
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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.

Moors north of Castleton
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Iron Age? burial mound
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Evidence of a more recent Iron Age. Lingdale mine shale tip. A faint North Sea in the background.
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Close to.
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First sight of smokestacks, from Birk Brow.
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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.
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Ships on the tide, about to enter the Tees.
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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.

Farm and furnace.
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Middlesbrough's transporter bridge, centre distance.
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Today's ride: 56 km (35 miles)
Total: 530 km (329 miles)

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