Norwegian sailors, a ripped mountain, and potatoes on the Canary Island of Tenerife.

This little story is set in Spain's canary island almost exactly 100 years ago, up in the Martian landscapes of Las Cañadas. As in 1926, the high mountains have been equally blessed with snow this winter. This is why I have decided to share the story once more.

If you were to sail in to the port of Santa Cruz, in Spain's Canary Island of Tenerife today, you would undoubtedly find a place packed with cruise ships, tour buses, and eager taxi cabs awaiting on the quay to drive you up to Teide National Park. Inter-island ferries will also be speeding in and out of the harbour. 

You might also be lucky enough to spot the La Palma, a floating museum. The beautiful old boat was built by W. Harkness and Son, Ltd. in Middlesbrough in 1912. It had been ordered by the British firm, Elder Dempster and Co., Ltd., who intended to improve transport between the Canary Islands.

The La Palma, a lady with fine old-fashioned lines

If you had sailed into the same port one hundred years ago, in 1926, you might be joined on the south mole by one of the Blue Funnel or Union Castle Line ships from London. 

The Union Castle boats stopped regularly in Tenerife

 You might perhaps have spotted a Norwegian Navy training ship parked against one of the piers. Apart from enjoying an interesting training adventure in warmer climes, a group of young cadets were sent ashore on an anthropological field trip to investigate if they could find any connection between the pre-Hispanic Guanche people on the islands and ancient navigators from Norway. 

Today historians believe most of the Guanche people may have been brought to the island from North Africa by Phoenicians or Romans, perhaps in search of different dyes. Others, like the great Thor Heyerdahl, suggest there were earlier nomadic people who drifted to the Canary Islands much earlier, possibly on rafts built with reeds from the Nile.

A Norwegian gunboat of the kind used as a training ship

The Norwegian training ship was to remain in Santa Cruz for at least ten days before calling in at Casablanca in Morocco. A young Lieutenant, known for his keen interest in ancient Viking exploration, six cadets and two ordinary seamen were issued with three tents, backpacks and rations for five days. Their mission was to look for a cave, which was believed to be located in the volcanic landscapes at the base of Mount Teide and in which Spanish anthropologists had reportedly discovered a Guanche burial chamber. 

It was a beautiful early morning when they set off on the winding, dusty road towards the colourful town of La Orotava. From there they took one of the mule tracks which were so often used by European geologists and astronomers to reach the great Las Cañadas calderas. They spent their first night close to a spring which gushed water out of a basaltic rock cliff in the Aguamansa pine forest. 

One of the tracks in the beautiful Aguamansa forest

The dense pine opened out to reveal a desolate landscape of volcanic rocks and shrubs, a mix of broom, Descurainia and other hardy plants. A sloping track took them easily towards Mount Teide into the base of one of the sedimentary plains and then up a steep rocky path at the edge of the eastern caldera. The young officer and his companions set up their camp inside a sunken dip on the pumice plains which are overlooked by an ugly and dramatic example of eruptive force known as Ripped Mountain, Montaña Rajada.

The pumice fields, a Martian landscape under Montaña Rajada

The heat of the midday sun and the dryness in the air hit them hard to begin with. However, the climate can be deceptive at the base of Mount Teide. It wasn’t long before fierce gusts of wind had them scrambling to collect loose volcanic stones in order to build a barrier around their camp. Sudden chills in the air made them feel quite unsure of themselves. 

They had not been warned that weather conditions in the bleak, high altitude landscapes on the island of Tenerife, could become treacherous very quickly in winter. Nevertheless, those same gusts of wind calmed as suddenly as they had appeared and the young men tucked into their sleeping bags early. They were exhausted after the day’s trek, and looked forward to exploring for Guanche remains on the following day.

At the crack of dawn, they were all shaken awake by a strong gust of wind. Within minutes the young men were wrapping up in as many layers of clothes as they could find. It was now icy cold. In fact, it had begun to snow. More than snow, they were in the midst of a blizzard as blinding as those on Gaustatoppen, Norway’s highest mountain. 

The fierce storm, with the wind making the volcanic rocks produce anguishing screams, had them huddled in their tents for most of the morning. When it ceased, allowing them to peep out, timidly pushing drifts of snow away from their tents, they were engulfed by a dense fog.

 It can snow heavily on Teide volcano and the high mountains of Tenerife 

In spite of being hardy Norwegians, accustomed to Arctic conditions, nobody had prepared them for this kind of weather on an island so close to the western extremes of the Sahara Desert. The Lieutenant, anxious as he was to pursue their amateur anthropological investigations, told his companions they would probably abandon their expedition. He would not have known that, if they could only keep themselves warm for a day or two longer, the weather front would pass. Brilliant sunshine and the warm volcanic soil beneath them would soon melt the snow away.

For the time being, however, fearing they would never find their way in the fog, the officer sensibly decided that they would stick it out for one more night. They would use their small paraffin lamps to heat up their rations, as well as their tents if necessary. That decision almost proved fatal.

The inhalation of paraffin fumes began to sting the sailors' eyes. One by one they began to feel nauseous. Indeed, a young seaman began to feel so unwell and drowsy that he rolled over and knocked a lamp over with his elbow. Paraffin spilled all over his legs and caught fire. He was screaming in agony and terror as is companions dragged him out of the tent and into the fog. They managed to put out the flames by rolling him in the snow, but he was badly burned. The tent became a roaring bonfire. Nothing could be saved. It was a disaster. If only they had hired a local guide, like Lorenzo García. 

Lorenzo García Lopez was a famous guide who took many travellers to the summit of Teide

Without a guide and unfamiliar to the terrain and the surroundings, especially at night, the Lieutenant had to make a decision. Should he send two of his team off into the night in search of help, with only a compass to guide them?

This time he probably made the correct choice. He was not going to risk losing two men in this strange, inhospitable landscape in freezing conditions. No, they would all huddle up in the two remaining tents until daybreak. The injured cadette was not in grave danger, in spite of the pain. He had nasty burns on his legs, but he would survive. Evidently they would need to get the young fellow back to their ship, and their expedition would have to be abandoned, but that was just too bad.

Except for the one with the horribly burned legs, the young seamen slept on and off. When they opened the tents to stretch and make coffee in the morning, the fog had cleared. There was not a breath of wind. It was quite extraordinary. 

There was not a cloud in the sky. The snow and ice very soon began to glisten with the rising sun, which began to toast their faces. It was going to be a magnificent Tenerife day. How they wished they could continue with their adventure. After a good breakfast, more coffee and a short stroll to inspect their snow-covered goat track, they packed their tents away. Ensuring there was no rubbish left in their enclosure, the lads made their way down to the sedimentary plain again before heading back towards the Orotava Valley.

It was slow-going. They took it in turns to help the injured cadette down the rocky tracks. The path was covered with snow for the first few kilometres, but soon turned muddy as they descended from their campsite at nearly 7,000ft above sea level into the dense Canary pine forests. They reached the first stone and thatched cottages in the hillside region of Aguamansa by late afternoon.

Traditional thatched cottages adorned the agricultural hillsides

A group of women filling brown sacks with pine needles greeted them with waves and amused cackles before running towards them as soon as they realised the young men needed assistance. The same women invited the Norwegians to follow them down between neat agricultural terraces, and then under majestic chestnut trees to what appeared to be a small hamlet. Plumes of scented smoke filtered through thatches and the aroma of delicious goatmeat stew made the young seamen’s stomachs ache with hunger.

One of the favourite meals in Tenerife is succulent goatmeat stew

The young adventurers were never going to make it to the comforts of La Orotava before dark so these village people offered them all they had in the way of shelter, food, water and wine. 

It was the year 1926, and most islanders lived from the land. There was no such thing as money in these upper hillside regions, which are known locally as las medianías. However, the inhabitants were blessed with happiness, with the routine of existing, and with the kindest hearts and warmest humour to be found anywhere on Earth. For just one night, these country folk belonged to the young, intrepid foreigners, especially to the one with the nasty burns on his legs.

A rather plump lady with glorious, reddened cheeks and hands like a man's was summoned to take a look at the burned legs. Her name was Feliciana. She was the curandera, a kind of herbal doctor so often used by mountain folk. She was not trained in medicine, of course, but her cheery attitude and beaming smiles persuaded the young Lieutenant to allow her to nurse the unfortunate cadette. Once again, he was correct in his decision.

None of the villagers had any black olives, whose juice she swore would soothe the burns. But there were plenty of recently dug-up potatoes. Feliciana proceeded to peel a few of these with a gigantic knife, dropping the peel in a heap onto the hard-trodden earth floor of the cottage they were sheltering in. She then used the same knife to cut the potatoes into fine slices. These she placed, very gently and neatly, onto the cadette’s burns, attaching them to his legs with slithers of green plant shoots. Feliciana then covered these with a warm, moistened cloth. 

The seventeen year old lad had already felt some relief by just watching the woman and listening to her humming like a bee, but he felt the throbbing pain of his burns ease away when the potato dressing on his legs began to take effect. Apparently, the juice from potatoes had been used for generations as a natural reliever of pain and healer of certain kinds of wounds.

Men digging up potatoes like those used to soothe those burns

On the following morning, just before the expedition retreated from the hills with help from the Civil Guard in La Orotava, Feliciana came to bid them farewell. She also brought  a small earthenware vessel containing an oily ointment which she had prepared. It was a mix of what looked and smelled like lard, crushed thyme and rosemary. After carefully removing the potato slices, which were now dry, she very gently used two large fingers to spread the home-made cream over the burned legs. She also gave instructions to the Lieutenant to make sure the cadette used the ointment every day until the sores were better. And so he did. 

In fact, the Norwegian ship's Medical Officer was so impressed by the effect of Feliciana's ointment on the cadette's skin that he tried, in vain, to produce a similar kind of paste before opting for the more conventional methods of modern medicine. 

BY JOHN REID YOUNG

Author of:

The Journalist (a novel described as an addictive thriller!) 

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) 

(For more information, please click on the images to the right of this page).

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A little "naive" Christmas tale from the Canary Island of Tenerife

 

When Peter was a little boy, growing up in Spain’s Canary Island of Tenerife in the 1960s, Father Christmas, or Santa Claus, only had to climb down a dozen or so chimneys. 

There were very few foreign children living on the island and local kids knew only of the magic of the three Wise Kings of Orient. Father Christmas was just a quaint old fellow they had begun to refer to as Papa Noel, and he was looked upon as very inferior indeed.

Papa Noel was still quite a novelty to Spanish children in the 1960s

Little Peter, the foreign child from Great Britain, and his best Spanish friend, Manolito each worshipped their own provider of Christmas gifts. Both had been taught, from a very early age, that his own particular belief, or joyful tradition, was better by far than the other’s.

Anyway, way back in 1965, Santa Claus came down the chimney at Peter’s house, as usual on the night of 24^th December, with stockings full of brilliant toys. 

On the following morning, Peter was in a state of great excitement. He opened his presents and played and played and played. 

His best Spanish friend, Manolito was green with envy, as Peter innocently showed off his new lorry, train and cowboy pistol. For days, Manolito refused to talk to Peter, his neighbour on the edge of the banana plantation.

A couple of weeks later, the Wise Kings of Orient trotted up on their camels to Manolito’s grand house in the middle of a banana plantation. 

When Manolito opened his presents on 6^th January it was his turn to leap about in a state of great excitement. His father was a very important man and seemed to get preferential treatment from the Wise Kings.

The three Wise Kings, Melchior, Gaspar and Baltazar crossing the deserts.

Pillowcases, not stockings, were packed with extravagant and superb toys. Manolito's gifts appeared far better than Peter’s and were spread over a Persian carpet for all to admire. 

Yes, Manolito had received many more and grander presents than Peter. He even got a belt with two golden cowboy pistols. What’s more, by the time Manolito began to play with his lorry and train, Peter’s were all very worn indeed. Wheels had fallen off and they were now only fit for the poor boy who lived in a hovel down the lane. The pistol no longer even made a bang. It was Peter now who was green with envy, and it was his turn to refuse to talk to Manolito for days and days. 

News of this envious behaviour between two little boys reached King Melchior, the senior of the three Wise Kings. He summoned King Baltazar.

“Ah! Good morning, Baltazar. Listen, I’ve received some rather extraordinary reports. My falcon tells me you’ve been having furtive meetings with that old snowy fool they call Papa Noel and, in fact, that you appear to get on quite well with him. Is this so?”

“Well, I don’t really know the fellow very, very well, your Majesty, but the one the English call Father Christmas is quite a pleasant old chap. We meet every year and share a glass or two of port on the roof of All Saints, the British Anglican church in Puerto de la Cruz. But I do spy on him, of course! Um, if you do remember, you did send me to do some market research a few years ago. You were interested in discovering where on Earth he got his children’s toys from!”

“Did I, indeed? My goodness, gracious me! Very well then. I mean, good. Well done, indeed!” stuttered King Melchior, rather caught off guard.

All Saints Church, in Puerto de la Cruz, built upon rock and tradition.

“Well, I would now like you to negotiate a truce with him. All this competing for the finest toys and between our religions and beliefs is very confusing, and not good at all. It is stirring up trouble amongst ordinary people. 

We cannot have little children, like Peter and Manolito, falling for adult tricks and jealousies, and being brainwashed about beliefs and religions being better than the other, don't you think?”

So, the very next year, when King Baltazar and Father Christmas had their annual meeting on the roof of All Saints Church in the town of Puerto de la Cruz, it went on for much longer than usual, a little like those European Council meetings in Brussels. 

Negotiations were quite tough and each needed to consult advisors around the continents. But a treaty was eventually signed under which children should not be affected by adult interests, predilections or political and religious nonsense.

It is after the sun has set over the great Mount Teide volcano that the three Wise Kings and Father Christmas make their way to the Canary Islands.

The process would take a few years, of course, to be implemented, and is still in its early days.

But King Melchior’s idea was for the Three Wise Kings and Father Christmas not only to use the same shopping centres and toy manufacturers, but also to share the duty and pleasures of bringing joy to children around the World.

And so, it began to happen. 

In fact, Spain’s Canary Island of Tenerife had the great honour of becoming the headquarters of this new Association of Shared and Differing Beliefs and Religions. 

Today, children on this and other islands under Spanish dominion are blessed.  In fact they are very lucky indeed. That very sensible and uniting agreement signed by King Baltazar on behalf of the Wise Kings and Father Christmas on the English slate roof of All Saints Church in the Taoro Park, enables them to receive gifts from both Father Christmas and the Three Wise Kings.

This nativity scene can be found at the Bodegón El Monasterio.

In other words, children of all nationalities enjoy visits from Papa Noel on Christmas Eve, celebrating the birth of Jesus, but can also expect equally wonderful gifts on the 6th January after those three Wise Kings have arrived to present baby Jesus with gold, frankincense and myrrh.

Between you and I, the adults keep most of the gold and things, and Father Christmas has taken to climbing over balconies because of the lack of chimneys on the island. Well, homes don’t often require heating in the sunny Canaries.

But the whole point is that the idea works. As a result of that meeting on the roof of All Saints Church, both Peter’s and Manolito’s grandchildren have learnt to accept Father Christmas AND the Three Wise Kings of Orient.

Sharing and being tolerant of each other’s beliefs and, let's say most customs, especially at Christmas, is a wonderful thing, you know. 

All the best to you all, wherever you may be, and do be kind and understanding.

By John Reid Young

Author of books. For more information, click on the images to the right of this page or on the following text:

 Travel Stories in Tenerife and the Canary Islands

Owner of Tenerife Private Tours www.tenerifeprivatetours.com

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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.

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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.

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