A Mayflower sailed to Tenerife

     In 1620, a group of Puritans, better known as the Pilgrim Fathers, sailed across the Atlantic Ocean from the English port of Plymouth on a square-rigged brigantine called Mayflower.  

"The Mayflower in Plymouth harbour" (William Halsall, 1882) 

     There were other Mayflowers. One of them sailed to Tenerife in 1776, the same year Captain James Cook made use of the anchorage bay of Santa Cruz to take on supplies for his last voyage of discovery. This Mayflower weighed 150 tons and carried fourteen guns, for self-defence, like any merchant vessel of the time.

     Her master was Pleford Clark, an experienced seaman. As all sailors did, he knew very well that every voyage may be his last. There were enemies around every head of land. Merchantmen like the Mayflower were at the mercy of marauding pirates and privateers. The Spaniards, the English, the French and the Dutch all raided each others' boats on the Atlantic trading routes. Even Turkish and Algerian sailors ventured out into the Atlantic and would carry our mischievous and ruthless forays against fat European vessels. 

     Sailing to the Canary Islands, even in the early 19th century, was risky and dangerous. It was also tough, with ships very often running out of food and water. A modern cruise liner will be nudged gently against the south mole in Santa Cruz de Tenerife after leaving Southampton in just four or five days. Eighteenth century vessels like the Mayflower could take weeks to complete the voyage. Their square rigging meant they depended on the convenient direction and strength of the winds to make any headway. They often ran into rocks or uncharted sandbanks and sometimes had to seek shelter for days on end in friendly coves until a privateer or an enemy vessel became tired of waiting and moved on.

     On her maiden voyage, the Mayflower sailed down the Thames and into the English Channel in the company of three or four other ships, all laden with wheat and every single one of them bound for the island of Tenerife. Pleford Clark had an uneasy time with changing winds before finally beating it out of the English Channel and heading south, pushed by the trade winds. By then, all ships in that particular trading fleet had lost sight of each other.  

     On her way south the Mayflower passed Porto Santo of the Madeiras on her starboard beam and then, two days later, the Savage Islands, half-way between Madeira and the Canaries. The Savage Islands are located at 170 km north of the Anaga cliffs, in Tenerife, and almost 290 km south-southeast of São Lourenço, in Madeira. 

The stunningly beautiful cliffs in the Anaga mountain range

     These Savage islands, Selvagem in Portuguese, comprise three small islands, Selvagem Grande, Selvagem Pequena and Ilhéu de Fora. These rocky, weather-beaten landscapes have belonged to Portugal since 1438, in spite of Spanish protests over the years. In fact, a little over twenty years ago, Spain claimed the tiny islands should be classified as rocks, effectively eliminating Portuguese sovereign rights over them as islands. This tit-for-tat reaction at the time was a result of the Portuguese preventing Canary Island fishing vessels from fishing within coastal waters. 

     Much earlier, in 1971, the islands became the Savage Islands Nature Reserve for their importance in the nidification of certain bird species, especially Cory's Shearwater.

Selvagem Grande

     Pleford Clarks's voyage was a safe and speedy one. They were anchored off Port Orotava, what today we know as Puerto de la Cruz, only twenty days after leaving the English Channel. Several other merchant ships lay at anchor. The Mayflower would have to wait its turn. All the ships were loading up barricas or casks of Tenerife’s famous wines which were destined for the inns of England and Europe or for the colonies on the other side of the Atlantic. 

     It was towards the end of October and Mount Teide was completely white after a recent snowfall. The little taverns were jolly with foreign sailors gulping cups of Malmsey wine and eating what the host offered as the dish of the day. Some historians believe these food-providing taverns were in fact origins of the inns Canary Islanders refer to as guachinche and that the word derives from an old English or Irish expression “I’m watching ye”. Perhaps they feared the wines would be watered down for the benefit of the innocent foreigner!

The Orotava Valley with Mt Teide in the background

     When it was the Mayflower’s turn, Pleford Clark began to unload his supply of wheat before cramming up with barrels of wine. It was a slow process. Everything had to be ferried in and out by falua, long narrow boats also used for fishing. There were no safe coves along the north coast of Tenerife. There were no proper trading ports yet since the original Garachico gateway to land was buried during the volcanic eruption of 1706. Sailors were firmly at the mercy of the seas.

     In fact, by late October the Atlantic had begun to show its temper. Pleford Clark was forced to weigh anchor and make for the open sea. Safely away from the treacherous volcanic coastline, he would sail back and forth and await patiently for the waters to settle down again. It was a common occurrence and the Mayflower was forced to repeate the operation at least five times off Port Orotava before completing her load of wine for the inns of London.

 

The vineyards of Tenerife, like these in La Guancha, produce exquisite wines 

     Wine was a profitable business and Tenerife’s vineyards, as William Shakespeare recorded in works like The Merry Wives of Windsor, produced the finest wines, just as they do today. The Mayflower could not return to England without her full capacity. On this, her maiden voyage, it took six weeks to unload her grain and to load up her 360 casks of wine purchased at Port Orotava. Fully loaded, Pleford Clark then sailed his ship along the northwest coast as far as Garachico. Garachico was also where ships preferred to take on supplies of water because it was considered the purest.

Garachico from above, as it is today

     The return voyage to England was not a dull one although, due to unfavourable winds, the crew aboard the Mayflower could still see Garachico five days after weighing anchor. 

     Close to Madeira, the Mayflower’s lookout spotted what he considered to be an unfriendly sail. She was moving to intercept them from the west. She was indeed what was known as a Sallee Rover. These bloodthirsty mariners, often actually led by English or Dutch captains who had made the walled, medieval merchant port of Salé in Morocco their base, were Barbary pirates. 

A Sallee Rover chasing a European galleon

     Sailors dreaded encountering theses small pirate ships. They could easily outmanoeuvre the larger European merchantmen and the crews manning these small vessels had a very bloody reputation, attacking at all cost for the smallest of prizes.      

     There was no point seeking shelter in one of the Madeira Islands because the Moroccan would simply follow the Mayflower. Pleford Clark knew he had to make a run for it. Although the other could manoeuvre with ease, the Mayflower had a strong wind behind her whereas the pirate, heading eastwards from its hiding place in a Madeiran cove, appeared to be making heavy weather of it. 

     Indeed the Mayflower slipped past and northwards at a good rate. The Moroccan gave up the chase and continued in a south-easterly direction, possibly back to Salé. Their best weapon was the surprise approach and on this occasion they had been spotted in time. From there on the voyage home was uneventful. Nevertheless Pleford Clark did have the strange pleasure of exchanging greetings with what was known as a friendly pirate, in this case a roaming Dutchman marauding in waters between the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay. He was only interested in terrorising fat French merchants returning to Le Havre or Bordeaux.

     The Mayflower made several journeys over the years to pick up good wines from Port Orotava, and even from the Bodegas beach in Taganana. She was only one example of the many foreign vessels which began to trade with these islands very soon after the Spanish conquest concluded in 1496. 

The Hindustan, of the British East India Company (Thomas Luny, 1790)

     There were many more, especially ships of the British East India Company, which simply used the Canary Islands to stock up with food and water before heading south down the coast of Africa on their way to towards the Indian Ocean. Above is Thomas Luny's detailed painting showing the company’s Hindustan anchored off the rocky coast of Tenerife. A small local craft moves swiftly by in the foreground and the peak of Mt Teide far beyond peeps into the clouds.

Note: Some information was adapted from Barlow's Journal, a sailor's account of his Life at Sea in King's Ships, East and West Indiamen and Other Merchantmen. Certain images have been reproduced from internet with no personal financial gain intended.

By John Reid Young, author and Canary Island private tour #guide.

Books by John include:

The Skipping Verger and Other Tales, a selection of historical, very short #stories.

A Shark in the Bath and Other Stories, a selection of longer, semi-biographical short stories.

El Hombre de La Guancha y Otras Historias, a selection of short stories in Spanish.

The Journalist, a novel described as a political thriller.

For more information, or if you would like to read any of my books, please click on the images to the right of the web version of this page.

You can also sign up for an occasional newsletter on these links:

 https://mailchi.mp/249fadd56fdd/author-john-reid-young

 John's Travel Stories

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A fellow called Osbert

     Having been a licensed tour guide for many years in Spain’s Canary Island of Tenerife, I often stop to consider how very much the island has changed since I was a little boy growing up in the Orotava Valley.

     I also ask myself to what extent those wonderful travel guide authors in the 19th and early 20^th centuries were influential in converting a gentle, sleepy island into the massive tourist destination it is today.

The main activity in the port of Puerto de la Cruz was fishing.

Note the number of boats pulled up on the beach.

     I would say those early travellers and travel guide authors like Samuel Brown were certainly influential, of course, but I’m not sure they would be happy to accept responsibility. I also doubt very much if the subject of this post, Osbert Ward, would have claimed any credit. Although the town of Puerto de la Cruz is delightful, spilling over with cosmopolitan colour and tradition, Osbert Ward would probably have liked the charms, the Canary Island architecture and the tranquility of the old town to have remained untouched, as they were. Of course, it was still just a quaint little town of less than 6,000 inhabitants.

     Born in 1856, Osbert Ward was advised to winter in the Orotava Valley to recover from lung-related health problems when he was in his twenties. He first came to the island in the early 1800s. A decade later, after wintering at the Grand English Hotel, which is how the Taoro Hotel was originally named, Osbert Ward and his wife, Eleanor Louise, decided to take up permanent residence in Puerto. 

Osbert Ward was a guest at the Grand English Hotel (The Taoro) 

   

The Grand English Hotel was advertised in Osbert Ward's guide book.

Note the "sanitary arrangements carried out by a certificated English plumber"!

     Like many other travellers from Victorian Britain, he wanted to show gratitude to his hosts, the local inhabitants in the Orotava Valley, for their renowned hospitality and generosity. He felt indebted to the place in which he recovered his health. What better way, he thought, than to spread the news about his charming valley and Puerto de la Cruz? Consequently, he set about writing a quaint, informative and observant little guidebook, The Vale of Orotava, first published in 1886.

Osbert Ward's delightful little guide book.

This particular image is of the 1903 edition.

     Osbert Ward also played a full part in “British colonial” aspects, taking prominent roles in institutions like All Saints Church and the English Library. In that sense, as so many selfless residents of energetic character do today, he was always willing to do his bit for the community. 

The English Library

        According to historian and distinguished British resident, the late Mr. Austin Baillon, Osbert Ward did all he could not only for the British colony but also to promote the importance and unique nature of northern towns like La Orotava and Puerto de la Cruz.

Austin Baillon's wonderful resumé about residents from the British Isles in Tenerife is found in this book, Misters: británicos en Tenerife

     It appears one or two members of the English-speaking community, like Osbert Ward, often appeared to possess mild eccentricities. It amused the local population. Perhaps it was because British and Irish travellers behaved so very differently on occasions, as if they were a unique breed, which they probably were! Osbert Ward's peculiar black hat never went unobserved, and local kids referred to the motorcar he owned in the 1930s as the flying bed. I would like to know why. Surely he wasn’t another Caractacus Potts! 

     What I am certain of is that Osbert Ward was a true British gentleman and a stickler for detail. He was also a perfectionist and a keen observer. This is evident from some of his observations.

      For example, upon what to wear in winter months, Osbert Ward suggested visitors from the British Isles pack warm clothing one would wear in a cool English summer  although, he added, they might find the climate a bit hot to begin with. As we discover ourselves today, the damp cool air coming off the Atlantic gets into our bones, even in June! Osbert Ward warned, they break out into very light clothes with, occasionally, disastrous consequences to themselves.

      Riders, he recommended, should bring their own saddles, especially the ladies if they wished to be comfortable. Perhaps it is because horse-riding was very much not a thing women were expeted to do in Tenerife, and therefore saddles were not suitably designed.

It was very common for British visitors to hire a horse from José Morisco in Puerto de la Cruz.

Note how many, like Ward, still referred to the town with its original name, "Port Orotava".

He, like José Bethencourt, would also offer his services to guide one to Mount Teide along the mule tracks. There were no proper roads to the mountains until 1941.

     Tipping anybody for the slightest reason was quite an established habit amongst wealthy Victorian travellers. Osbert Ward himself was a generous tipper. Nevertheless, he warned against over-tipping the boys who came with the horses. The effect is only to spoil the market, as the saying is!

      Wages were so low, he pointed out, that a small tip would represent quite a fortune. A man´s daily wage in the 1890s was only one and a half pesetas. Mr. Ward regretted the English visitor tended to have a habit of giving money to the children who followed their carriages begging. The result of this practice was that the urchins became a real nuisance and had been known to throw stones at people who refused to give them a coin or two! Such were the ways in the old, old days!

     Like many British residents living in the Valley of Orotava, Osbert Ward lived to a ripe old age of 93. Perhaps it was a daily intake of gofio, as my father joked on his own way to his century! Osbert Ward, who was predeceased by his wife Eleanor, is buried with her in la chercha, as the English Protestant cemetery in Puerto was known to the local inhabitants. As he remarked in his book, one could not choose a more restful place to lay one´s bones in!

The eternal resting place of Osbert Ward and his wife Eleanor in "La Chercha",

Puerto de la Cruz

     Mr. Ward´s guidebook, The Vale of Orotava is today considered a valuable source of interest to historians and is mentioned in nearly all bibliographies of books and articles related to early travellers to Tenerife. It is packed with gems, like this hand-drawn map.

 

Note the main carriage roads, in those days still simple dusty tracks, the bridle paths, and references to important British interests such as the Grand English Hotel, All Saints Church, the English Library and British-built and owned mansions Risco de Oro, San Antonio and El Robado.

By John Reid Young, author and Canary Island tour guide.

Books by John include:

The Skipping Verger and Other Tales, a selection of historical, very short stories.

A Shark in the Bath and Other Stories, a selection of longer, semi-biographical short stories.

El Hombre de La Guancha y otras Historias, a selection of short stories in Spanish.

The Journalist, a novel described as a political thriller.

For more information, or if you would like to read any of my books, please click on the images to the right of the web version of this page.

Please sign up for an occasional newsletter here:

 https://mailchi.mp/249fadd56fdd/author-john-reid-young

You can also subscribe to my substack here:

 https://johnreidyoung.substack.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskippingverger

Twitter: @reidten

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A Scottish Tajinaste - from Puerto de la Cruz in Tenerife to the banks of the River Esk.

     Well, perhaps! 

     This is not a tale about a bold and fearsome Highlander. Quite the contrary. It is simply a way of paying a small tribute to a gentle and beautiful species of plant which is endemic to the Canary Island of Tenerife.

     Visitors to the landscapes of Las Cañadas, at the base of Mount Teide, are always stunned by the natural park's spectacular extraterrestrial scenery, by the sharp, black obsidian sparkling in the sunlight, by the turquoise hydrothermal sub-volcanic rocks painting abstract works of volcanic art, by the extraordinary array of lavatic colours, or by the pumice dunes which were once mined by an Anglo-French company.  

The San José mines, another planet in Tenerife

 

Like abstract volcanic art

     However, if one is lucky enough to be in Tenerife during the late spring and early summer one will also be greeted by the splendid sight of Echium Wildpretii. This biennial wonder stands out against the harsh, black, red and brown lava flows in regimental groups on the hillsides above sedimentary deserts, or in the Ucanca plain like the one pictured below, or even on their own, protected by phonolite towers at the base of Mount Teide volcano.

A tower of jewels in the Ucanca plain, with Mt Teide behind

A cluster of Echium wildpretii with a dense mist creeping across the caldera

     One of the theories behind the name tajinaste is that it derives from a pre-Hispanic indigenous word, tainast, meaning “needle”. When the basal rosette suddenly shoots up to produce the amazing “tower of jewels”, it certainly looks like a giant needle. The silver sheen on the velvety leaves add an exotic touch to the echium, even before producing hundreds of scarlet red flowers right up to their spiked tips.

 

The echium's rosette, like a creature from another planet

     Until I read an article in The Scotsman newspaper in June 2000, I always thought this extraordinary plant could only be found in the high, arid and volcanic landscapes of Tenerife and La Palma. However, The Scotsman reported that a five foot tall Echium Wildpretii was flourishing at Inveresk Lodge Garden which is just south of Musselburgh. In fact, that particular plant had been grown from seed at Tresco Abbey on the Scilly Isles, where the climate allows a variety of tropical plants to flourish. Now I understand that this “Tower of Jewels”, as it has become known by horticulturists, can be found not only in the Canary Islands and Scotland but throughout the world, if planted in well drained, not very rich soils, and that its cousins, the blue Echium candicans and Echium fastuosum, also known as The Pride of Madeira, do well in New Zealand. 

     Two more specie of Echium are pictured below. The top image shows a pair of Echium simplex under the beautiful dragon tree inside the small botanical garden behind the town hall in the town of La Orotava. The second image is of one of my favourites, the Echium virescens, this cluster captured inside the pine forests at Aguamansa.

Above, Echium simplex and below, the Echium virescens

     Nevertheless, the Tower of Jewels was given the specific “Widpretii” epithet in honour of Hermann Joseph Wildpret, a Swiss-German botanist who became principal gardener at the famous Botanical Gardens in Puerto de la Cruz on the island of Tenerife in 1860.

     Wildpret is believed to have sent Kew Gardens Tajinaste seeds, which the plant produces in small capsules after the flowering phase. From Kew, seeds were sent all over the world. The name Echium possibly stems from the Greek echis, meaning “viper”, perhaps due to what some researchers suggest was an ancient belief that the echium vulgare could be used as an antidote if bitten by an Adder. 

An Echium vulgare or viborera on the northern slopes below Izaña 

     The blossoming Tower of Jewels is also a favourite for bees, especially the Amegilla canifrons, the Canary Island Blue-banded bee. Apiaries high in the pine forests of Tenerife produce one of the best of the island’s magnificent honeys. The Black Canary Island bee, related to the African bee, has also adapted to the contrasting climate at high altitude and has developed a preference for the pollen produced by species like the flowering Echium, the Retama and the Teide Violet.

The dazzling scarlet flowers of the Echium wildpretii attracting a blue-banded bee

     Honey from the Echium wildpretii is today considered one of the finest in the world. It should have a smooth, creamy texture with colour ranging from almost transparent to light beige. Visitors to Puerto de la Cruz and other traditional towns in the Canary Islands will be able to find jars of Tajinaste honey in small specialist shops. Nevertheless, the lack of snows to soak into the volcanic soils in the alpine highlands around Mount Teide in recent years has taken a toll and authentic Tajinaste honey is becoming more difficult to find.

Miel de Tenerife honey (Courtesy Cabildo de Tenerife)

By John Reid Young, author and Canary Island private tour #guide.

Books by John include:

The Skipping Verger and Other Tales, a selection of historical, very short #stories.

A Shark in the Bath and Other Stories, a selection of longer, semi-biographical short stories.

El Hombre de La Guancha y Otras Historias, a selection of short stories in Spanish.

The Journalist, a novel described as a political thriller.

For more information, or if you would like to read any of my books, please click on the images to the right of the web version of this page.

You can also sign up for an occasional newsletter on this link:

 https://mailchi.mp/249fadd56fdd/author-john-reid-young

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/theskippingverger

X: @reidten

Instagram: authorjohnreidyoung

 

 

Jean Batten, a star burning herself out on the island of Tenerife

     They searched for her everywhere. They searched for her across Europe. They searched as far as the Canary Island of Tenerife. Nobody knew where she was. Very few people seemed to care, and yet the lady was the great Jean Batten, one of the British Empire’s greatest aviators.

     People had grown accustomed to her disappearing for years at a time. There was no one to miss her until after she had died.

     She died on 22^nd November, 1982, just five weeks after leaving London for the last time. She had booked herself in to a cheap hotel in Mallorca. She was like any other anonymous, lonely guest. An infection developed in a leg after she had been bitten by a dog. She had refused to see a doctor. She refused to see anyone, in fact, except the little lady who ran the cheap hotel. She died, as she had lived for so many years, alone.

     Jean Batten spent sixteen of those absent years in the Canary island of Tenerife, having arrived there with her ageing mother in 1966. They took an apartment in the coastal village of San Marcos. Not long after that, Jean's mother died.

     After the death of her mother, Jean bought a tiny flat in the thriving tourist resort of Puerto de la Cruz in order to be closer to her mother, who was buried in the town's English Cemetery. Jean lived in virtual seclusion. She only surfaced from time to time, by invitation, when she thought stories of her past might rekindle some sort of glory. 

The entrance to the English Cemetery in Puerto de la Cruz

A plaque on a cemetery niche, Ellen Batten's final resting place

     Many of those who met Jean Batten would criticise her aloof nature. Perhaps most people never got close enough to Jean to understand the reasons behind her distant, peculiar ways. Few British residents in Tenerife managed to get remotely close to Jean. When they did, they realised she rarely opened up any windows for people to peep inside. 

     One of those people was Annette Reid. During an interview for a New Zealand Television documentary, Annette Reid, the wife of the last British Honorary Vice Consul in the town of Puerto de la Cruz, said she didn't think Jean Batten had any close friends. A generous and observant lady, Annette could not have put it better, when asked to describe the aviator.

     “She seemed to be like a wonderful star that shot across the firmament and then burnt itself out like a comet, until there was nothing left”.

Annette Reid M.B.E.

https://www.nzonscreen.com/title/jean-batten-the-garbo-of-the-skies-1988

     Things could have been so very different for Jean Batten. Born in New Zealand in 1909, her interest in flying began as a child when she would watch the old flying boats land and take off at a local flying school. The pattern of her life began to take shape when her mother, Ellen, arranged for Australian flying hero, Charles Kingswood Smith, to take her for a spin. Jean knew immediately what she wanted in life but her father, Frederick, was bitterly opposed to her ambitions. He had dreamed of his girl becoming a concert pianist. 

     Ellen took Jean to England, supposedly to study music at the Royal College of Music. Mother and daughter had other plans. Within days of arriving in the United Kingdom in 1930 Jean Batten was learning to fly at a Harrow aerodrome.  

     When news of the mother-daughter conspiracy reached Frederick Batten in New Zealand, he promptly cut off her allowance and that of her mother’s. The two women were left stranded and penniless. Her father and mother, a failed actress, had been separated for a number of years. It was believed he had numerous girlfriends. They were not precisely the best of friends. 

     In spite of a disconcerting nature and her rapid decline in years to come, Jean Batten was without doubt a remarkable individual. With just twenty hours of flying hours noted in her log book Jean announced she was going to attempt to fly solo to Australia. She wanted to beat the record set by the great Amy Johnson. 

Amy Johnson, of Gypsy Moth fame, flew for the Air Transport Ministry during WW2.

She lost her life after parachuting into the Thames Estuary in bad weather.

     Jean Batten was attractive and sometimes charming when she needed to be. On one voyage to New Zealand, she met Flying Officer Fred Truman. At the time, he was serving in the RAF in India. She persuaded him to lend her five hundred pounds. It was all he had, and it was quite a sum in those days. Truman was one of the many men to fall for Jean's charms. With his money she was able to negotiate sponsorships for her flight and promptly lost interest in the poor man. A number of years later Fred Truman wrote and asked if she would pay him back. She told him to join the queue. He had been one of her stepping-stones.

     Back in New Zealand, Jean Batten made some inroads into restoring her relationship with her father, who also gave funds for her new adventures.

     On her return to England, Jean was provided with a second hand De Havilland Gipsy Moth by another hopeful courtier. She made her first attempt to fly solo to Australia in April 1933. She was lucky to survive a horrifying experience when caught up in a vicious sandstorm over the Syrian Desert. The little biplane got into a spin which she just managed to control within feet of the ground. A few hours later she made two forced landings, near Bagdad and then close to Karachi when her engine blew up and the Gipsy Moth ended up in pieces. Miss Batten stepped out unscathed. Any ordinary mortal may have given in, but she was not ordinary. 

     Her incredible determination attracted more money. On her returned to England Jean immediately received the sponsorship she was hoping for, this time from Lord Wakefield and Castrol Oil. She had become potential publicity material.

     Only one year after nearly losing her life on that first attempt to fly solo to Australia, Jean set off again. The second flight also ended in disaster due mainly to her familiar, stubborn refusal to accept sound advice. Not heeding warnings from the French authorities, Jean Batten crossed the Mediterranean against a strong headwind. The aircraft ran out of fuel close to Rome and crashed. What a fool I have been, she later noted. Again, she was extremely lucky and escaped with just a cut lip and a black eye.

Jean Batten was ruthlessly tenacious

     The whole world realised now that Jean was ruthlessly tenacious and she attracted huge admiration. On her third attempt to fly to Australia she made it. Her record-breaking flight took 22 hours and 30 minutes. It was an astonishing achievement, especially as she had flown through the wall of death, a ferocious monsoon over Burma. 

     Pilots flying larger aeroplanes were later to describe similar experiences as penetrating a dense, black wall of water. Soon after arriving in Australia, Jean Batten sent a cable to the only person to ever have a hold on her, a very strong hold indeed. It was to her mother. 

     Darling, we have done it, the aeroplane, you and me. 

     The welcome Miss Batten received in Australia was overwhelming. Mission accomplished. She had obtained the fame which she and her mother had yearned for. Her extraordinary determination also helped them become economically independent.

     Jean very quickly learned to behave like a heroic celebrity. She also forgot how to behave like an ordinary woman, if she ever was an ordinary woman. That failing was perhaps to become her worst enemy in future years.

Batten, no ordinary woman (Courtesy Penguin Books New Zealand)

     As researchers discovered, very few people were ever able to break through Jean's glamorous exterior. She became totally self-interested. After a while, she began to bore people. Many could not understand what appeared to be an obsession for pleasing her mother. After flying back to England, so becoming the first woman to make a return flight, she crossed the South Atlantic to Brazil in a Percival Gull monoplane in 1935.

Jean Batten and her Percival Gull (Courtesy Mary Evans Picture Library)

     Charles Lindberg, the great American aviator, was fascinated by her. Jean was only 26, with the world at her feet and the promise of a wonderful life ahead. He invited Jean to tour the USA with him. Her mother said don’t accept, so she didn’t accept the invitation. Nobody could ever find the reason for such a compulsively possessive relationship.

     Jean and Ellen Batten retreated to the English countryside, and Ellen would rarely allow anyone to even speak to her daughter, the outstanding young lady aviator. Jean was also distancing herself from people. She was on a pedestal and didn’t know how, or was unwilling to get down off it. Her manner also began to betray an extraordinary and sad insecurity. If only she could have been free again, in the sky or simply untied to her beloved mother.

     Jean Batten caught a fleeting glimpse of freedom, of happiness or of emotional independence after another record-breaking flight from England to New Zealand in 1936. She was the heroine once again. She also met Beverly Shepherd, an airline pilot in Australia. He asked her to marry him and she accepted, but kept their engagement quiet until she could speak to Mummy. Soon after their secret engagement, a small passenger plane disappeared during a flight between Brisbane and Sidney. The co-pilot was among those killed. It was Beverly Shepperd.

     Although she tried to recover from this tragedy in 1937, by flying solo back to England again in just five days and eighteen hours, Jean Batten now clung on even more to her mother. Her days of fame fast began to cloud over. Described as the Empire’s Queen of the Skies, this beautiful girl with dark black hair and ivory skin, she hung up her white flying suit for the last time in 1939. The news was all about war. Jean became a thing of the past.

     She tried and failed to enlist as a woman ferry pilot. She was desperate, as all loyal citizens were, to do her bit. She made a few speeches to raise money for the war effort. There was a brief glimmer of hope. She fell in love again, this time with a bomber pilot. Unfortunately he was killed on a mission. She fell deeper into her mother's life. She would only ever be absolutely happy when flying high in the sky, tempting destiny with her achievements.

     The two ladies lived in Jamaica for a while, where they might have mingled with other celebrities like Noel Coward or Ian Fleming who was inventing James Bond, but they kept themselves to themselves. Dr. Jacobs, a famous psychologist in Jamaica said Jean Batten came across as a celebrity waiting for applause. It was a similar tale wherever she went. They left Jamaica almost secretly and lived out of a suitcase, travelling through Europe for the next seven years. They then bought an apartment in a small village near Malaga called Los Boliches. In English this means the marbles. 

     Nobody was ever given an address and before long they moved to Tenerife, taking an apartment in the beautiful coastal village of San Marcos. 

San Marcos, as it was before modernisation works interfered with the natural flow of the water and most of the sand disappeared

     San Marcos was considered the gem of the north. Fishermen still hauled their boats up onto the sand, and sold some of their catch to the popular old fish restaurants on the sand. To the locals Jean was just an anonymous foreigner, a slightly odd señora with an old mother who died.

     Without her mother, Jean Batten’s growing eccentricity became more acute. She tried a comeback and flew to England where she died her hair jet black, bought a mini skirt and had a couple of face-lifts. She attracted temporary public interest and died her hair blonde. She was sixty. The world no longer knew who she was and really wasn’t concerned.

     So our record-breaking heroine aged alone in Tenerife. One day she must have understood that her star was indeed burning out because she suddenly sold her flat in Puerto de la Cruz and flew to London where she began to leave her possessions and memorabilia at strategic places like the RAF Museum in London. After that, she disappeared for good. 

     The truth about her death, registered in Palma on 22^nd November 1982, was not discovered until 1987. The local authorities had sent notice of Miss Batten’s death to the New Zealand Embassy in Madrid. But there had never been a New Zealand Embassy in Madrid. Nobody claimed to know the lonely old foreigner. She was buried in common grave with fifty other angels. At least she would not be alone any more.

     In honour Jean Batten a small aircraft rally took place in 1989 from Britain to Tenerife and a plaque was unveiled in Puerto de la Cruz. It seems to have been removed but visitors today who walk along the pier from their cruise ships in the port of Santa Cruz de Tenerife will see a reference to her in the avenue of illustrious visitors.

     

Jean Batten, recognised as one of Tenerife's most illustrious visitors

By John Reid Young, author and Canary Island tour guide.

Books by John include:

The Skipping Verger and Other Tales, a collection of short stories.

A Shark in the Bath and Other Stories, a collection of short stories.

El Hombre de La Guancha y Otras Historias, a collection of short stories in Spanish.

The Journalist, a novel.

For more information, or if you would like to read any of my books, please click on the images to the right of this page.

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