Eston Beacon

You know those days where nothing goes to plan, you're lost within minutes, there's a siren wailing in your ear, and you somehow end up rock climbing with vertigo? That was this day on the Eston Hills - and weirdly, it ended up being absolutely brilliant and one that sticks in the mind for the right reasons, not just the near death (OK, I might be exaggerating) experiences.

I set off from Eston village on what was meant to be a simple little explore - just a wander up to Eston Nab and a bit of mining history. Plotting a route using Google Maps (rookie error), everything started off well enough... until the footpath got steeper... and steeper... and then I found myself face to face with what was basically a cliff. Any sensible person would've turned around at that point. But this isn't a story about sensible people, is it?

Nope, I scrambled up like a budget action hero, clinging to roots and regretting every step. If you're reading this for advice: definitely don't do that. But the top? Totally worth it.

Eston Beacon

In 1808, a sandstone beacon tower was built right here during the Napoleonic Wars - part of a national network of signal towers ready to warn of a French invasion. The plan was simple: if enemy ships were spotted, fires would be lit on hilltops across the country, one after another, relaying the alarm inland. (If you're a nerd, it's like Gondor lighting the beacons in Lord Of The Rings!

After the war, the tower stuck around - and ended up being used as a home. According to the 1851 census, Nicholas and Ann Jones lived there with their four children and four ironstone miners! Eight people living in a former beacon tower, right on top of a windswept hill. Makes my climb up there seem like nothing really.

The tower stood until 1956, when it was sadly demolished. But in its place, a stone monument now stands - dedicated to the men of Eston who lost their lives fighting in war. It's a simple but powerful marker, and honestly, there's something quite moving about seeing it rise out of the heather.

An inscription on the monument poignantly reads:

This monument is placed here to mark the site of the beacon tower which was erected by Thomas Jackson of Lackenby about 1800 as a look-out post against invasion during the Napoleonic wars and which again served the same purpose in the second world war of 1939-1945. It stands within a Bronze Age fortified camp whose outer defences can be seen. Erected in 1956.

Once I'd caught my breath and the legs had stopped shaking, the drone went up - and that's when things really clicked. The scale of the land, the shape of the hills, and the layout of the old earthworks suddenly became visible. A new perspective on something ancient.

All while a siren from the nearby works blared in the background, which definitely added to the drama (and mild sense of panic). But hey, it all adds character to the moment, right?

If you're into your trig bagging, there is a trig point right next to the beacon.

Eston Nab

The very top of the hill is called Eston Nab and the views here are spectacular. You get the full sweep - Redcar, Middlesbrough, the Tees estuary, even the sea in the distance. It's the kind of panorama that makes you stop and breathe for a bit (once your lungs recover from the climb).

But it's not just the view that makes this place special, it's what's beneath your feet. Long before my slightly daft morning adventure, Eston Nab was a place of huge importance. The flat plateau on the summit was once home to a Bronze Age burial site, and later, an Iron Age hillfort.

Archaeologists have uncovered pottery, tools, and ancient ramparts here, showing that people were using this spot over 2,000 years ago to watch over the land.

Eston Fan House (SS Castle)

After admiring the views and trying to shake off the effects of a blaring siren from the nearby chemical works (great timing), I got directions to the Eston Fan House - also known locally as SS Castle thanks to its stern, stone-built form that looks like it's come straight out of a gothic novel.

The structure was built to ventilate the ironstone mines below, part of the vital infrastructure that kept the underground workings safe and breathable. The design is very similar to the fan house at Huntcliff, with its arched doorway and solid construction. It's a little battered by time, but it still stands strong - an eerie, almost forgotten part of the landscape.

Surrounded by trees and brambles, it's got that post-industrial magic: something important that the world moved on from, but that still clings to the hillside in defiance.

Eston Ironstone Mine Drift

Finding the mine drift was thankfully a bit easier. Though, I say 'easier' in the loosest sense - these trails are rough, churned up by quad bikes and trail riders, so it's slow going in parts. Still, when you arrive at the mine entrance, the sense of history hits you straight away.

The Eston Ironstone Mines were once among the most productive in the country. First opened in the mid-1800s, the mines supplied millions of tonnes of ironstone to the Bolckow & Vaughan Ironworks in Middlesbrough - fuel for the furnaces that helped build the industrial north. Without this mine, there might never have been a Middlesbrough as we know it today.

The drift entrance, where the mine sloped gently underground is now sealed off, but you can still make out the stone walls, rail bed and ventilation shafts. You don't need to go inside to get a real sense of the scale and effort that went into working here. It's a place where thousands of men once spent their days underground, hewing stone in the dark, damp tunnels below the hills you're walking on.

The ironstone mined from Eston Hills played a massive part in building Middlesbrough and even helped fuel the construction of the Sydney Harbour Bridge! That's right - this quiet little stretch of North Yorkshire helped shape skylines on the other side of the world.

Sure, I wouldn't recommend my exact route (unless you fancy clinging to tree roots on a near-vertical slope), but that's half the charm of the place. Eston Hills doesn't hand you the goods on a plate - you've got to go and find them. And when you do? You'll get history, views for days, some cracking ruins, and the kind of day out that sticks in your memory - not because it went to plan, but because it absolutely didn't.

Here is a route that follows a permissive path all the way to the beacon, so give that a try and mind how you go.

Follow the route above or find it on OS Maps. Just over 2.5km to the top and 153m of ascent.

Thanks to DJ Aerial Photography for this amazing write up.