Louis Blériot was born in Cambrai in 1872 and during his childhood cars were the wonder of the age – they probably inspired him to study engineering at the Ecole Centrale in Paris. Later he made his name with the invention of headlights, but already the challenge of flight was overtaking earthbound motoring. Bleriot and a colleague set up the Blériot-Voisin Company but after three years he left to set up on his own as an aircraft designer and intrepid aviator.

For centuries enthusiasts were convinced that only by copying birds would man ever take to the air under his own power. There was even a name for these erratic machines whose fragile bodies and flapping wings invariably finished up nose down in the grass – ornithopters. Blériot’s first machine of 1901 was a useless ornithopter, but although he was quick to abandon the bird model his subsequent designs remained stubbornly earthbound.

Then, in 1903, Orville and Wilbur Wright made history with the first successful flight in a powered, heavier-thanair machine. Inspired by their triumph, Blériot persevered.

Try, try, try again

He tried the engine at the front so the thrust pulled the machine through the air. No good. He fixed the propeller at the rear so the plane pushed forward. No good either. He set two wings at the same level with the larger in front of the smaller one instead of above one another. Too topsy-turvy.

It was now 1907 and progress was erratic, expensive and disheartening. It was also painful with crash after crash taking its toll on man and machines. Finally, Blériot VII with a smaller tail and innovative cantilever wings touched over 50mph in a trial flight.

Things were, literally, looking up so he turned his attention to the interior of his craft, however reliability remained elusive with Blériot IX crashing and Blériot X confined to the drawing board.

By 1909, with bankruptcy looming, the £1,000 prize offered by the Daily Mail for the first Channel crossing seemed heaven sent. Blériot intended using Blériot VIII but had crashed it, badly burning his foot with flaming gasoline, so he had to rely on XI. Blériot XI met the rules, being under 300kg, and had a covered fuselage just right for the English weather.

At dawn on 25 July he soared off the cliffs at Calais, nearly hit telegraph wires, and then sped 250ft above the waves at 40mph into strong winds, rain and bad visibility. Fortunately the weather eased slightly near Dover where, after 22 miles in 37 minutes, he made an all-too-familiar crash landing, smashing the wooden propeller.

Thousands greeted the ‘intrepid birdman’ who instantly became a global sensation and the hero of France.

Blériot returned to making aircraft and during the Great War his company built 5,600 fighters for use by the allies. He died in 1936.