As you drive down the A19 and pass the turn off for the A179 into Hartlepool the crest of the long, slight hill you’re travelling down gives way to an amazing view.

At first it looks like a dark line across the sky. Like a strip has been torn from the paper sky on the horizon. Thick, grey clouds ahead, maybe.

In reality, it’s the Cleveland Hills dominating the background above the Tees Valley and practically filling the entire horizon. A level step over Teesside.

Where I grew up in North Wales it was easy to orientate yourself wherever you happened to be. Huge mountains were familiar regardless of the angle you saw them from, and from there you knew where the coastline was. The permanence of the geography - features that had been there for thousands of years before us, and would be there for thousands more after we’re gone - was a constant anchor for me in the area.

Read more: Amazing drone photos of the Redcar Blast Furnace before it was demolished

Everything I did, my entire existence, was in relation to those permanent features.

The Cleveland Hills provide the same function in Middlesbrough and Stockton. Spot the hills, and you know where the sea is. You know which way is up.

The Northern Echo: The remains of the former Redcar blast furnace slump to one side as it waits for scrap merchants.The remains of the former Redcar blast furnace slump to one side as it waits for scrap merchants. (Image: Leigh Jones)

You can get a sense of comfort from the continuity that geography provides a place, and as the freeport area seeks to redevelop 4,500 acres of land that was once the heart, soul and lifeblood of Middlesbrough, this sense of continuity on the south side of the Tees is becoming a precious and scarce resource.

The start of the private road along the South Gare - where you cross the orphaned railway tracks - is the point the sea once reached before the Victorians reclaimed the land.

As the site redevelopment continues apace the landscape here now changes every day. The road along the Gare hugs the edge of the steelworks site, the perimeter fencing almost literally in spitting distance of the old blast furnace - on the day I drove past it was reduced to a crumpled heap of twisted metal.

The Northern Echo: The crumpled remains of Redcar blast furnace.The crumpled remains of Redcar blast furnace. (Image: Leigh Jones)

The first storey remains while the metal above it for another fifty feet is slumped over to the side like a drunk in the back of a taxi.

If you’ve ever driven along the M4 through South Wales, the steelworks at Port Talbot make an unmistakable landmark as you fly past the feet of the valleys. The motorway hugs the edge of the mountains on the outskirts of the town, as if happy to observe the heavy industry from afar. Your back against the wall as you edge safely past, plastering a smile, politely waving and anxiously praying for the wind to not change direction.

In contrast to this pretentiousness, the road along the South Gare puts you right down in it.

The Northern Echo: The view of Port Talbot steelworks along the edge of the South Wales valleys is 'pretentious'.The view of Port Talbot steelworks along the edge of the South Wales valleys is 'pretentious'. (Image: Google)

Standing on the bank of earth on the opposite side of the road to the fence, the first thing that struck me was the sulphuric, ferrous smell on the air. I could hear the distant clatter of the demolition teams chipping away at the different buildings on site. It’s like a light version of the stench and din that would have overwhelmed the senses on the same spot only ten years ago.

Read more: How the Redcar blast furnace and steelworks helped Teesside build the world

This vast, now-empty, flat space leaves you feeling tiny and insignificant in the scheme of the area’s past. Even without the structures of old towering above you.

As you reach the end of the South Gare this effect of feeling insignificant is amplified. 

It’s similar in a lot of ways to Dungeness in Kent. A flat, coastal area with rare plants, windswept and desert-like. Only in Dungeness a nuclear power plant looms in the near distance. The humming and frequent horns are a reminder that whatever your location on this plain, it’s always in relation to the nuclear monolith.

The Northern Echo: Dungeness power station in Kent constantly looms over the desert-like coastal landscape.Dungeness power station in Kent constantly looms over the desert-like coastal landscape. (Image: Leigh Jones)

At the end of the South Gare you’re cut adrift from points of reference, you no longer exist in relation to other, bigger things than yourself.

Thalassophobia is the fear of deep water, and could also be the fear of the vast emptiness of the sea. This tiny strip of land jetting out into the North Sea can induce those feelings on certain days.

Surrounded on both sides by water, as close now to the deep water of the shipping channel as you were to the ruins of the blast furnace only moments ago, you may as well be in the middle of the ocean. The bay across Seal Sands to the opposite bit of land looks unreachably far. Hartlepool? A speck.

The Northern Echo: Hartlepool power station is visible across the deep water of the shipping channel.Hartlepool power station is visible across the deep water of the shipping channel. (Image: Leigh Jones)

Looking back towards the Cleveland Hills to try and anchor yourself, they’re once again diminished to looking like a strip of paper has been torn from the sky.

The effect is dizzying, but there’s nothing here to reach out and grab to steady yourself with. It can feel exhilarating to feel untethered and adrift here.

Read more: 15 pictures of the moment Redcar's iconic blast furnace is demolished

Coming back along the peninsula to the familiar surroundings of the blast furnace is like coming back to earth, despite the fact that this wreckage poking out of the sand dunes could be the ruins of an ancient alien civilisation.

The Northern Echo: The Cleveland hills look like a strip of paper torn from the sky from the end of the South Gare.The Cleveland hills look like a strip of paper torn from the sky from the end of the South Gare. (Image: Leigh Jones)

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The fact that the Gare is entirely man-made is a reminder that despite the apparent continuity and sense of forever-ness the physical landscape can offer, all things come to pass.