A long time ago, when I shared with my grandmother that I had recently finished reading Beryl Markham’s "West with the Night," she was thrilled. "Oh, Beryl Markham! The last time I spotted her, she was in the embrace of the Prince of Wales beneath the wings of your great-grandfather’s Puss Moth."
It wasn’t until many years later, when I was researching material for my book "Captain de Havilland’s Moth," that I made this link: the event must have been the London Aeroplane Club’s summer gathering in 1930. During that period, Markham was engaged in concurrent relationships with individuals who were destined to become key figures. King Edward VIII , along with his brother Henry, who was the Duke of Gloucester. The trio became enthused about aviation following the introduction of the DH60 Moth, a two-seater biplane that made its inaugural flight nearly a hundred years ago.
The Moth swiftly gained popularity among the affluent and idle class. However, when Captain Geoffrey de Havilland conceived it, his vision was to achieve for airplanes what Henry Ford did for cars with the Model T—transforming them from exclusive luxuries into accessible options for the masses. He aimed to create an aircraft that would combine lightweight construction, user-friendliness, decent speed and range, all within a price point nearing £500. Ultimately, the Moth priced at approximately £650, making it affordable for burgeoning professionals. This airplane could cruise at about 75 mph, accommodating two individuals along with their overnight luggage for distances up to 300 miles without requiring refueling. Thus, it became the world's first truly viable option for personal air travel.
The future monarch counted several Moth owners among his circle of friends. One notable example was Denys Finch Hatton, renowned for arranging the prince's two African safaris and later depicted as Karen von Blixen’s ill-fated love interest in "Out of Africa." Another friend in this group was Freddie Guest MP, who happened to be a cousin. Winston Churchill The individual presented his daughter Diana with a Moth as an 18th birthday gift (in contrast, her pragmatically inclined mother bestowed upon her a French maid instead). Lady Bailey, known for her rebellious nature and being the offspring of the financially reckless Baron "Derry" Rossmore, owned a Moth and gained recognition after she piloted it all the way to Cape Town in 1928. Meanwhile, her competitor, Lady Heath, earned acclaim by undertaking flights in the opposing direction.
During my research, I often discovered that the Moth's least anticipated aviators were the most fascinating to me—especially the women. In 1930, for instance, Amy Johnson, a secretary from Hull, impressively piloted her Moth aircraft all the way to Australia. She preferred being known as Johnnie and embodied a cohort of pilots who did not hail from elite backgrounds but became early advocates for personal flying endeavors.
Next came Lotfia Elnadi, a telephone operator from Cairo who, in the same year, achieved the distinction of being the first African woman to obtain her pilot's license. Although her mother wholeheartedly supported her, her father remained skeptical about this career choice until she took him for a flight over the pyramids. After witnessing this spectacle, he quickly changed his mind.
A notable female aviator was Sophie Heath, whose upbringing was marked by tragedy. Her father, part of the Irish Protestant Ascendancy, killed her mother while holding infant Sophie. Raised by two critical aunts, Sophie excelled both scholastically and athletically, initially working as an agricultural scientist before co-founding the Women’s Athletic Association. At the 1924 London Women’s Olympics, she secured the silver medal for long-jump competition. In 1926, she earned her private pilot license on a Moth—the first individual to do so—and coincidentally became the first Englishwoman to perform a parachute jump from an airplane.
After losing her first spouse, she tied the knot with Sir James Heath, who was nearly four and a half decades senior to her. Following their marriage, Sophie became an active participant in air racing competitions for quite some time. However, when Sir James grew weary of financing what he described as his invisible wife’s adventures, he made a public statement indicating that he would cease covering her expenses and planned to divorce her in favor of someone younger. Later on, Sophie formed a friendship with the pioneering American aviator Amelia Earhart and eventually established a venture running Moth aircraft in Ireland. Although this endeavor didn’t pan out successfully, many believe she played a crucial part alongside Amy Johnson in promoting women’s roles within the nation’s aviation sector.
Some heartbreaking tales also emerged. Maurice Wilson aimed to become the first individual to conquer Mount Everest. His plan involved intentionally crashing his Gypsy Moth aircraft midway up the mountain. Born into a family owning a textile mill in Bradford, Wilson was a distinguished veteran of World War I whose wartime traumas left him unable to find peace afterward. In January 1933, after purchasing an old Gypsy Moth, he intended to master flying and use the plane to navigate the Himalayas with hopes of reaching the peak by May for his birthday. Regardless of the strenuous attempts by British officials to stop him, he managed to advance as far as the base mountains before his airplane was ultimately seized.
Unshaken, he began walking, ultimately succumbing to the cold at an altitude of 23,000 feet. His remains were found twelve months afterward—though contrary to what some believed about him possibly dressing in female undergarments, his most recent biographer confirms without question that Wilson indeed engaged in cross-dressing behavior.
Wilson’s absence of proper maps was well-known among everyone involved in lengthy aerial journeys during that era. For her journey along the western coastline of Africa, Lady Bailey relied on a map she had extracted from a cruise liner pamphlet. Meanwhile, Aspy Engineer and his companion RN Chawla utilized an old school atlas to navigate their route from Cairo to Croydon. Given these circumstances, it isn’t shocking to discover that they ended up 80 miles away from Paris due to adverse conditions on what was meant to be nearly their final stretch of travel. Similarly, landing in Norfolk rather than at Croydon wasn’t unexpected either as this marked their actual next-to-last segment. However, it is truly remarkable that only at age 17 did Aspy Engineer manage to pilot himself triumphantly back to Karachi, thereby securing the prestigious Aga Khan Trophy for becoming the inaugural Indian citizen to achieve such a feat unaccompanied within less than thirty days.
Truly, de Havilland’s vision of flight accessible to everyone was realized with his design of the Comet, which became the world’s first commercial jetliner in the late 1940s. Nonetheless, the Moth played a crucial role in this journey. It is evident that through their various endeavors using the Moth, they demonstrated that flying can indeed be secure and possibly within reach for anyone. Consequently, these efforts solidified Captain de Havilland’s Moth’s legacy as one of the most successful—and undoubtedly the most emblematic—light aircraft ever made.
Captain De Havilland’s Moth: Stories of Daring Adventures from the Golden Era of Aviation By Alexander Norman (Abacus, $25) is set to release on February 6th.
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