June 18th, 1928 – A Day to Remember in Burry Port...
In the summer of 1928, the world was still caught up in the thrill of aviation’s golden age. Flight was no longer a novelty, but a bold new frontier where each record shattered opened the door to possibilities once thought impossible.
The skies had become a proving ground for courage and ingenuity, and every successful crossing or daring stunt seemed to capture headlines as symbols of human progress. Only a year earlier, Charles Lindbergh had stunned the world with his groundbreaking solo flight across the Atlantic in the Spirit of St. Louis.
His 33-hour journey from New York to Paris not only secured his place in history but also transformed aviation from an experimental pursuit into a symbol of modernity and global connection. Following his achievement, the public imagination was gripped by the idea that airplanes could unite continents, shorten distances, and make the impossible routine.
Aviation in the 1920s was still fraught with risk. Aircraft were fragile compared to modern machines, dependent on good weather, skilled pilots, and sheer determination. Engines could fail, navigation was rudimentary, and survival on a transatlantic crossing was far from guaranteed. Yet these dangers only heightened the allure. Pilots were celebrated as heroes, and their machines as marvels of technology pushing the limits of human endurance.
It was against this backdrop of excitement and uncertainty that a small coastal town in Wales, far removed from the glamour of Paris or New York, became the stage for the next chapter in aviation history.
On June 18th, 1928, Burry Port’s tranquil harbor and sandy shores welcomed the Friendship, a bright orange monoplane carrying Amelia Earhart and her crew. For the people of the town, it was an astonishing interruption to daily life; for the world, it was the continuation of aviation’s relentless march forward, proof that the Atlantic, once a formidable barrier, was quickly becoming a bridge.
The Crossing of the Friendship
On June 17th, 1928, anticipation hung heavy in the air at Trepassey Harbor, Newfoundland. It was from this quiet fishing outpost that the "Friendship", a bright orange Fokker F.VIIb/3m monoplane, prepared to make its daring leap across the Atlantic. Painted in vivid orange to maximize visibility should disaster strike at sea, the aircraft was a sturdy trimotor design, built for endurance rather than speed.
At the controls sat "Wilmer Stultz", a skilled American pilot with a reputation for precision and calm under pressure. Alongside him was "Louis Gordon", the dependable mechanic and co-pilot, who would be responsible for keeping the aircraft’s three Wright Whirlwind engines running smoothly through the long, uncertain night.
Their passenger, however, was the one destined to capture the world’s attention, "Amelia Earhart". At just 30 years old, Earhart was already unusual among women of her time. A social worker by profession and a licensed pilot by passion, she had logged hours in the cockpit at a time when female aviators were still a rarity.
To the sponsors of the flight, she was chosen as much for her quiet determination and resemblance to "Charles Lindbergh" as for her flying skill. To Amelia herself, this was not just an adventure, it was the chance to prove that women could take part in aviation’s boldest challenges. The "Friendship" lifted off into the skies that afternoon, its engines straining against the weight of fuel tanks filled for the daunting journey ahead.
What followed was more than 20 hours of tense endurance. The crew faced banks of thick fog that obscured their path, sudden squalls that battered the wings, and the mental fatigue of navigating over an ocean with few reliable instruments. Stultz bore the burden of piloting, with Gordon keeping constant watch on the engines, while Earhart, bundled against the cold, documented the journey and provided steady companionship through the long hours.
By the time the first faint outline of the Welsh coastline emerged from the mist on June 18th, relief and exhaustion coursed through the crew. Yet the flight was not over, they still had to find a safe landing site before their dwindling fuel forced them down. Spotting the broad, flat sands near the harbor town of Burry Port in Carmarthenshire, Stultz guided the Friendship down through the clouds and onto the beach.
For the townspeople, it was an unforgettable sight: a great orange bird descending from the sky, its engines rumbling, settling onto the sands as children and fishermen rushed to see what had arrived. For the crew, it was the end of a perilous crossing, and for Amelia Earhart, it was the moment when an ordinary woman stepped firmly into the pages of history.
Earhart’s Role and Its Meaning
Although Amelia Earhart did not pilot the Friendship herself, her crossing marked a watershed moment: she became the first woman ever to traverse the Atlantic by air. In an era when aviation was still perilous and largely male-dominated, her presence on board was not only a personal triumph but also a symbolic breakthrough.
The 1920s had already witnessed profound social change, women in Britain and America had secured the right to vote earlier in the decade, more women were entering higher education and the workforce, and traditional expectations of femininity were being questioned. Against this backdrop, Earhart’s transatlantic crossing resonated as part of a wider movement toward equality and empowerment.
The press wasted no time in turning her into an international icon. Journalists quickly dubbed her the “Lady Lindy,” a reference to "Charles Lindbergh", whose 1927 solo flight across the Atlantic had captivated the world.
The comparison was deliberate, Amelia’s slim build and short haircut invited parallels with the famous aviator, but more importantly, it positioned her as his female counterpart, a pioneer who could carry the banner of aviation into new territory for women. Newspapers across America and Europe celebrated her as a trailblazer, her name suddenly known far beyond the circles of aviation enthusiasts. Yet the achievement was not without its complexities.
For all the public adoration, Earhart herself felt a twinge of discomfort. She later confessed that she had felt like “a sack of potatoes” during the flight, a passenger rather than a pilot, carried across the ocean rather than actively conquering it. Her honesty revealed both her humility and her ambition. She understood that while the world might see her as a heroine, she had not yet proved to herself, or to her critics that she could match her male counterparts in skill and daring.
Nonetheless, the Friendship flight changed everything for Earhart. Overnight, she became a household name, invited to ticker-tape parades, receptions, and lectures. She secured book deals and speaking engagements, which she used not only to tell her story but also to advocate for women in aviation.
The crossing gave her a platform – one that she would not waste.
Just four years later, in 1932, she silenced any doubts by completing her own solo transatlantic flight, piloting from Newfoundland to Ireland in just under 15 hours. This time there could be no question: Amelia Earhart had matched Lindbergh’s feat on her own terms, becoming the first woman, and only the second person ever, to fly solo across the Atlantic.
What began with the "Friendship" landing in Burry Port as a symbolic step had evolved into a personal and historical triumph. Earhart had transformed from a passenger into a pioneer, cementing her legacy not only as an aviator but as a cultural icon whose courage still inspires today.
The Town That Welcomed History
For the people of Burry Port, the arrival of the Friendship was nothing short of astonishing. The late afternoon calm was broken by the steady drone of engines overhead , a sound still rare in 1928, especially in a quiet harbor town.
Children playing along the shore were the first to notice the strange aircraft circling low, and soon the whole community gathered to see what was happening. Instead of settling onto the sands, the bright orange trimotor descended gracefully onto the waters of the Loughor estuary, just off the harbor.
It was an extraordinary sight: an aircraft built for endurance floating on the tide in a small Welsh port, having just conquered the Atlantic. For many onlookers, it was the first time they had seen a plane up close, let alone one that had come all the way from North America.
Once the crew, pilot Wilmer Stultz, mechanic Louis Gordon, and their passenger, Amelia Earhart, were ferried ashore, they were greeted by an eager crowd. Though weary from more than 20 hours in the cramped, freezing cabin of the Friendship, they were welcomed with warmth and curiosity. Locals brought tea, bread, and simple meals, turning what might have been a mere technical stop into a moment of human connection.
Word of the landing spread quickly, drawing journalists and photographers to Burry Port. Within days, reports appeared in newspapers across Britain, Europe, and the United States. The small town found itself catapulted into the global spotlight, its name forever linked to the age of flight and to Amelia Earhart’s rise as a pioneer of aviation.
For Burry Port, the landing was more than a fleeting spectacle, it was a brush with world history. The quiet Welsh harbor had become, for one remarkable day, the stage on which the future of aviation was written.
History had landed, quite literally, on our shores.
Legacy Beyond the Landing
Earhart would go on to inspire millions with her courage, determination, and unwavering independence. The 1928 crossing of the Atlantic marked only the beginning of a remarkable career. In the years that followed, she set speed and altitude records, became the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic in 1932, and continued to push the limits of what was thought possible for women in aviation.
Her adventurous spirit and refusal to conform to expectations made her a global icon, embodying the optimism and boldness of an era that was still learning how to dream with wings.
For Burry Port, the landing of the Friendship became its own kind of legend. What had been an ordinary fishing and harbor town suddenly found itself mentioned in newspapers from London to New York. Locals proudly recounted the day when an orange monoplane touched down in their estuary, carrying a woman who would become one of the most celebrated aviators in history. For decades, the memory of June 18th, 1928 was passed down through families and community storytelling, an event that gave the town an enduring connection to global history.
Today, nearly a century later, Burry Port continues to embrace that heritage.
A memorial and plaque stand near the harbor, quietly marking the place where Amelia Earhart’s journey ended and the town’s story entered the history books. Visitors can still walk the same shoreline where crowds once gathered in astonishment and imagine the sound of engines breaking the quiet skies. There is also a monument just opposite the Memorial Gardens in the Town of Burry Port.
It is a reminder that history is not always written in great capitals or grand cities.
Sometimes, the most extraordinary chapters unfold in small, unexpected places. On that June afternoon in 1928, Burry Port became more than a coastal community, it became the finish line of a pioneering transatlantic flight and a symbol of how even the most unassuming towns can find themselves at the heart of world events.
