The Man Who Made People Care: How Lee Heeson Built the Spirit of Tonfanau

Motorbike Mad attended Tonfanau's final motorcycle race meeting and discovered that the little Welsh circuit was not defeated by one single problem. It survived for 34 seasons because generations of volunteers cared enough to keep rebuilding it - until the pressures finally became too great.

Leathers, a flat cap and a lifetime around motorcycles: one quiet paddock scene seemed to capture the character of Tonfanau's final day.

When I arrived at Tonfanau shortly after nine o'clock on Sunday morning, the Welsh sky was bright and unexpectedly blue. Heavy rain was forecast for later, but for the moment the paddock was alive, motorcycles were being prepared and the little circuit looked ready to carry on as it had for more than three decades.

Near the track stood an older rider in black leathers and a grey flat cap, helmet an arms reach away. He was not posing for the camera or celebrating a victory. He was simply watching.

Of all the photographs I took that day, that image seems to capture the essence of Tonfanau's final meeting. It shows experience, age and an enduring attachment to racing, but also the uncomfortable truth confronting grassroots motorsport: the people who built it, raced there and kept it running cannot continue for ever.

By the end of the afternoon, the rain had arrived, much of the crowd had dispersed and the final chequered flag had fallen on 34 seasons of racing at one of Britain's most unusual motorcycle circuits.

Tonfanau had not been destroyed by one fatal blow. It had been worn down by a succession of pressures that enthusiasm alone could no longer overcome.

How Lee Heeson Turned a Sheep Field Into a Race Circuit

Tonfanau's story began in 1992 when Lee Heeson was holidaying with his family near Tywyn in Gwynedd. Looking down from a hillside, he spotted an old, disused Army camp and saw something most people would have missed: its main road could become a motorcycle racing circuit.

Lee was a longstanding member of Crewe & South Cheshire Motor Club. With the club's backing and help from Nantwich and District Motor Club, the first race meeting was held at Tonfanau in 1993.

For 11 months of each year, the land remained what it really was - a farmer's field occupied by sheep. Four times a year, volunteers transformed it into a one-mile coastal circuit. They installed barriers, controlled weeds, painted, repaired damage and prepared the venue before dismantling much of it again after the racing.

That required far more than an interesting strip of tarmac. It required somebody capable of making other people believe the effort was worthwhile.

Lee's greatest achievement may therefore not have been seeing a racetrack where others saw an abandoned camp. It may have been persuading generations of volunteers, competitors and officials to see it too.

Tonfanau Survived Because People Kept Stepping Forward

Lee and his team kept racing alive through the Foot and Mouth outbreak in 2001, the disruption of Covid and countless wet weekends on the Welsh coast. When Lee died in early 2022, Crewe & South Cheshire Motor Club held its final Tonfanau meeting that August.

The circuit could easily have ended then. Instead, Paul Myler, John and Jean Price and members of the existing team stepped forward. Tonfanau Racing Association Club - TRAC - was created and racing continued for another four seasons.

John Price became one of the central figures in that continuation. A lifelong supporter of Tonfanau and an accomplished racer, he helped lead the organisation and operation of the circuit from 2023. His death in November 2025 was another enormous loss to a small club already dependent upon a limited number of experienced people.

TRAC's four additional seasons should not be treated as an unsuccessful attempt to save Tonfanau. They were four seasons that would probably never have happened without volunteers inheriting the belief established by Lee.

That is the real measure of what he built. Tonfanau continued even after its driving force was gone because other people cared enough to carry it forward.

Why Did Tonfanau Finally Close?

When Motorbike Mad first reported that the August meeting would be Tonfanau's last, there was no detailed public explanation for the closure. It was right not to speculate.

The picture is now clearer - and more complicated than any single headline could suggest.

Tonfanau's official closing statement identifies increasing maintenance demands, difficulty recruiting volunteers, an ageing volunteer team, rising operating costs and declining race entries. Continuing had simply become unsustainable.

Conversations at the final meeting added human detail to that official explanation. A longtime volunteer taking admission money at the gate spoke sadly but calmly about the closure. He described a combination of low entries and spectator numbers, track maintenance, insurance, safety requirements, ambulance provision and equipment that would require further investment.

These were not presented as one decisive cause. Together they formed a perfect storm.

The economics described in the paddock were brutal. Scrutineer John McEntee told Motorbike Mad that approximately 90 racing entrants were needed for a meeting to break even. Some meetings, he said, had attracted only around 15, potentially producing losses of as much as £4,000 and consuming surpluses earned at better-attended events.

Those figures are McEntee's account rather than published club accounts, but they explain the scale of the problem. A volunteer organisation can survive the occasional poor meeting. It cannot repeatedly subsidise racing from a shrinking reserve while facing rising costs and further investment.

The Man Who Fell Off First - Then Stayed for 34 Seasons

McEntee's own Tonfanau story could hardly be more appropriate.

He attended the inaugural meeting in 1993 as a racer and claims the slightly dubious honour of being the first competitor to fall off at the new circuit. He never raced again, but he did not leave Tonfanau. He became a volunteer and says he attended every meeting across its 34 seasons.

That is grassroots motorcycle sport stripped to its essentials. A man arrives to race, falls off, and spends the next three decades helping other people do what he once attempted.

McEntee estimated that substantial investment would be needed simply to bring parts of the venue up to modern expectations. More tellingly, he doubted that even Lee Heeson, had he still been alive, could have reversed the situation facing Tonfanau in 2026.

That observation does not diminish Lee's achievements. It underlines them. If the man who had repeatedly found ways through earlier crises could no longer have solved the final combination of problems, the closure should not be interpreted as a failure of commitment by those left behind.

A Circuit Built on Borrowed Land and Volunteer Labour

Tonfanau's improvised character was always part of its charm, but it also created practical limitations.

Between races at the final meeting, an ageing recovery van collected broken-down motorcycles and cleared the track. It did the job, but like other equipment around the venue, it would eventually need replacement.

The paddock also suffered from drainage problems. TRAC's AGM minutes recorded that solid concrete lies beneath the grass, making straightforward drainage work impossible. Correcting it would involve digging up the paddock at a cost the club could not afford.

The circuit itself occupied rented agricultural land. Any major ground or infrastructure work therefore had to be considered in the context of a venue used for racing only a few times each year.

Even the practice laps retained Tonfanau's peculiar sense of humour. One rider joked that they were less about checking the motorcycle and more about flicking sheep droppings off the circuit.

It was a funny remark, but it also described Tonfanau perfectly. This was not a sterilised permanent facility surrounded by corporate hospitality. It was a sheep field repeatedly transformed by people with motorcycles, tools and determination.

For Some Riders, Tonfanau's Last Race Was Their Last Race

Several competitors told Motorbike Mad how much they would miss the circuit. A couple of riders well into their seventies said its closure would also bring their own racing careers to an end. One even offered to sell me his motorcycle after the race.

That is why the loss of a grassroots venue cannot be measured simply by removing four dates from a racing calendar. Competitors do not necessarily transfer neatly to another championship or travel hundreds of additional miles to a different circuit. Some stop.

When a venue such as Tonfanau closes, motorcycles are sold, volunteers lose their community and knowledge accumulated over decades can disappear remarkably quickly.

The older rider in the flat cap therefore represents more than nostalgia. He represents a generation that has kept British club racing alive - and the question of who will replace it.

The Rain Arrived Before the Final Flag

The sunshine that greeted the final morning did not last. Heavy downpours arrived from lunchtime onwards and gradually dispersed much of the crowd before the final chequered flag.

It felt fitting, although perhaps Tonfanau deserved a grander farewell. There was no enormous stadium, fireworks display or television audience. There were racers, volunteers, vans, tents, classic machinery and spectators sheltering from Welsh rain.

In other words, Tonfanau finished much as it had lived.

Grassroots racing is often discussed only when something closes, but closure should not be allowed to redefine everything that came before it. Tonfanau did not fail because it eventually became unsustainable. Its success lies in the improbability of what Lee Heeson and the people around him achieved.

They took a disused Army-camp road through a sheep field and made it a race circuit. World champions and TT legends rode there. Club racers earned signatures, won championships and sometimes ended up in the grass. Volunteers gave up weekends in the wind and rain so strangers could race motorcycles.

After Lee died, others protected that inheritance for four more seasons. After John Price died, they still brought Tonfanau to one final chequered flag.

Lee Heeson did not keep Tonfanau alive for three decades by performing every job himself. He kept it alive by making other people care about the circuit almost as much as he did.

Tonfanau's closure is not proof that his idea failed.

Thirty-four seasons of racing prove how spectacularly it succeeded.