I’VE had an enthusiastic response to earlier notes about my exploits on a racing cycle. As this is the weekend of the much trumpeted Grand Départ of le Tour de France, I thought I would share my own memories of a “Tour” in which I took part.

I raced in several events around Teesside, Co. Durham and Tyneside.

My main year of activity was 1953 (61 years ago!) when I was 17 years old, and I still have records of those races and other events. I did not shine in any of them but managed to complete most, but by that time I had shed my hand-built bike and, out of my wages of about £2.3.6d per week, (£2.17p) managed to save enough to buy a second-hand racing machine. It was a Frejus, the type used by a past winner of the Tour de France. I thought it would enable me to win something like the Circuit of The Clevelands or The Tour of the Durham Hills. But it didn’t work like that! It didn’t take long for me to realise it all depended upon the rider, not the bike.

In addition to races, there were trials of stamina such as the Teesside Cyclists’ Touring Club’s challenging 100 miles to be completed in 7 hours (known as a 100-in-7) around a mountainous course that began at Stockton-on-Tees, then Darlington, Richmond, Leyburn, Reeth and Arkle Town with lunch at Tan Hill Inn.

After lunch, we rode to Barrass Station, Reeth, Grains o’ the Beck, Middleton-in-Teesdale, Eggleston, Staindrop, Winston, Caldwell, Eppleby, Piercebridge and Summerhouse to finish at the Black Horse Inn at Ingleton to the east of Barnard Castle. From there, I had to cycle home to Eskdale in the North York Moors, 60 miles or so. I think I covered about 200 miles that day but I got my Hardrider’s Certificate.

Events such as the 100-in-7 were not races but more trails of strength, speed and stamina over long distances, but there was two forms of road racing – time trials and massed start races. In time trials, the riders raced alone against the clock, departing at one minute intervals over a given course of usually 10, 25, 50 or 100 miles. These were popular on flat roads long before motorways made their appearance and one benefit was that traffic was not impeded by lone cyclists. A 10 mile time trial was usually completed within half an hour – around 25 minutes – with other distances being pro rata. Massed start races were like mini a Tour de France and these were run over varied distances, usually 50 or 100 miles, or perhaps a mid-distance of 75 miles. Junior races, for the under 18s, were usually shorter than the seniors’ events, and success in such races often depended upon team work. Many races were organised in the north-east and depended upon the co-operation of motoring organisations, police forces and owners of premises such as football clubs or sports arenas, where races might start and finish.

I think the value of prizes might astonish modern society. I have a programme for The Wilton Road Races of 4th April, 1954 which started at The Cenotaph, Middlesbrough, and finished in Marton Road. Event No.1 for seniors was 70 miles long and event No.2 for juniors was 55 miles. Winner of event No. 1 received first prize of £2.10s.0d (£2.50), second was £1.10s.0d. (£1.50) and third was £1. Winners of the prime (the hill climb) in both races received 7s.6d (37.5p) and a tube of Radiol Massage Cream. Team prize for event No.1 was 10s. (50p) for each rider. One of the races in which I competed was for juniors and known as The Sloan Trophy. It began at Gosforth Park, Newcastle.

Run over a distance of 50 miles, it went via Hazelrigg, Dinnington, Ponteland, Belsay, Ottercaps, Elsdon with the prime at Gibbet, then onto Rothley Cross Roads, Bolam, Belsay, Whalton and North Road to finish at Gosforh Park. I cannot recall how I got to Newcastle from Eskdale – 70 miles or so – to start the race, or go back home afterwards. The winner’s time was 3hrs 16m. 21secs which included the neutralised zones, ie where no racing occurred, usually in built-up areas. With 100 riders entered, only 33 finished and I was a creditable 18th.

The senior event on the same day (August 9, 1953) was known as the Beaumont Trophy and covered 90 miles over an extended version of the junior course.

A race with the impressive title of Tour of the Durham Hills occurred on Sunday August 30, 1953. There were three senior events with staggered starting times over the same course from Gateshead to Annfield Plain, Lanchester, Wards End, Carterway Heads, Edmundbyers, Stanhope, Wolsingham Tow Law, then back to Wards End to finish at Saltwell Road South. The junior event in which I took part was a shortened version of 50 miles.

I can’t recall how I fared in this one but I think I got my front wheel wedged between railway lines on a level crossing somewhere in the wilds.

When I looked at it, it was shaped like a figure 8 but a team-mate halted, removed the wheel via its quick release system, laid it on the ground and jumped on the rim. The wheel sprang back to shape with its tyre and tube, and I refitted it to continue.

That’s probably why I can’t remember my result but the wheel was never a problem afterwards.

What I do remember from those times is that it was widely believed among British racing cyclists that none could even finish the Tour de France, let alone win it. For racing cyclists, it was then an impossible dream.

For the last 63 years, we’ve had our own Tour of Britain – mini-version of le Tour de France. The first race was from August 19th to September 1st, 1951 and it was won by Ian Steel of Scotland with French and Irish riders featuring in the final result. But now we’ve got le Tour de France actually starting in this country and visiting York and the Dales. I wonder if a British rider will win this year?

A RECENT outing (not on our bikes) found my wife and I enjoying the Lower Ure nature reserves near Nosterfield between Masham and Thirsk. These extensive areas of water are home to a wide selection of waders and other aquatic fowl. We missed a spoonbill by a single day but were rewarded by birds ranging from peewits (green plovers) to curlews via dabchicks and great crested grebes.

There were ducks aplenty from shelducks to wigeon via tufted ducks and the ubiquitous mallards, not forgetting the clumsy looking shoveler with its immense beak. Perhaps the most memorable was a flock of Canada geese and their chicks that suddenly decided to move and promptly formed themselves into a long single file to swim to the shore. I counted 24 in that military-style manoeuvre. They reminded me of racing cyclists with each taking advantage of the one in front as a wind-shield to speed their journey!