What was it like on Seven Mile Beach back in 1933? Four residents – Brian Sharpe, Dave Johnson, Col Sharpe and Chris Cullen – each have vivid memories of the whole weekend.

Brian Sharpe, who turned 83 in September, was just three-and-a-half when his parents Bill and Dorothy made the trip to Gerroa from their home at Toolijooa.

“I went with my older sister Jean and I remember being on the beach and seeing the plane.

“We stayed until early morning and then headed home and it took some time back then.

“We just got into bed and I remember dad hearing the plane and saying, ‘There he goes’.”

Dave Johnson, who now lives at Gerroa, said his memories were still vivid.

“I was eight years old just three days later, Smithy was one of my childhood heroes,” he said.

“We used to follow his efforts on the crystal radio at school when he was flying from England to Australia.

“I’ll never forget the take-off.

“He was about a kilometre back towards the Berry end of the beach and roared up and took off up towards Gerroa, and he must have only just made it over Black Head.

“We were up there and he was coming straight at us, he pulled up over us, did a big circle and he had a spotlight on the plane and shone it onto the beach as a farewell and then headed east.

“There had to be a thousand people on the beach.”

Col Sharpe turned six that February in 1933. The 85-year-old said even today whenever he thinks of that flight he can smell petrol.

“We lived at Toolijooa and we finished milking and then the family came down to Gerroa,” he said.

“It was all cordoned off but there were people everywhere.

“My father lifted me up on his shoulders so I could have a look inside the plane.

“They just had wicker seats. It was incredible, it was so cramped.

“We headed home but soon heard the plane take off and my older brother Neil raced outside. I followed and we saw the light as it took off and came around.

“It was a very noisy aircraft.”

He took his first plane ride five years later in 1938, also taking off from Seven Mile Beach.

“I can’t remember the pilot’s name but it was a short skid lightweight twin engine and we took off and went up to Werri Beach at Gerringong.

“It cost 10 shillings. My uncle from Sydney paid for me and a cousin.”

Chris Cullen, 83, who now lives at Figtree, was four at the time and his family lived at Foxground.

“We travelled down in a horse and sulky,” he said.

He met Smithy, shaking hands with the legendary flyer.

“I was about four and the plane was roped off and my mum urged me to go under it and wish him good luck.

“I got under the rope and went up and said, ‘Good lucky Smithy’.

“He shook my hand and said, ‘Good luck old man.’

“My whole family, mum and dad, two brothers and my sister all went to see it.

“We were on the beach with the crowd. My sister Esther who was 10, got lost in the crowd and our friends, the Bisikers, found her and returned her to my parents.

“We stayed all night but had to get home to milk the cows the next day.

“I didn’t see the take-off I fell asleep, I was only four.

“But it was and has always been a special memory for me.”