Myrtle Avenue looks like any standard 1930s suburban street. A single cul-de-sac off the Hatton Road, each side lined by impressively ordinary semis. Paved gardens. Tiled gables. Satellite dishes pointing south. But also triple glazed windows throughout, because Myrtle Avenue just happens to be the closest residential road to Heathrow Airport. If you work there and don't mind the racket, it's an extremely convenient place to live. [map]
It's also an extremely good place to watch planes. The end of the avenue opens out onto a patch of unfenced common land, never developed for very obvious reasons (which fly virtually overhead). This grassy area boasts an uninterrupted view of approach, or alternatively of take-off. There's plenty of space to stand. It's outside the security perimeter, so unbothered by the authorities. It's within easy walking distance of a tube station, and also very easy to park (to the chagrin of local residents). That'll be why I found about forty other people staring at the skies when I turned up.
It's important to check Heathrow's runway alternation timetable and the wind direction before you arrive, otherwise you'll see nothing. If the wind is from the east, planes will be taking off almost immediately alongside. If the wind is from the west planes will be landing instead, but only half the time, either before or after 3pm depending. I turned up early afternoon in Week 2 of operations, which meant a steady stream of tiny lights growing ever closer.
The entire cycle takes about ninety seconds. A distant plane emerges above the rooftops of Myrtle Avenue (or takes its place at the front of the queue if you're stood further forward with an unobstructed view across the paddock). The uninitiated have to wait to discover what it is, but these days handheld technology makes it easy to find out all the important details in advance - no longer VHF airband radios but smartphone apps which line up the entire inbound queue. [flightradar]
Forewarned, the devoted spotter can work out when not to particularly bother looking, or even when a sufficiently long gap to nip to the garage for provisions is coming up. Conversely, when something rare or particularly huge is due, the assorted crowd (and their lenses) rather pay more attention as it approaches. Many of their cameras are enormous, like a cross between a foglamp and a telescope, while others present focus on creating videos they can upload to YouTube later. I'm indebted to one of them for unintentionally editing together most of what I saw. [video]
Closer and closer comes the plane and general chatter diminishes (unless it's a piddly British Airways short haul, in which case not everybody registers). Many of those present have brought pop-up seats, because they're here for the long haul. The family group in front of me had brought three chairs - dad and son additionally armed with notepad and binoculars, their long-suffering companion wrapped up warm inside a big hood reading a thick novel instead. The vast majority of those present are male, in case you were wondering.
About eighty seconds into the cycle the plane has become a significantpresence in the sky. The precise angle of approach is conveniently tangential, because that gives a better photo and clear view of the all-important lettering on the side. Engines are loud but not deafening. Landing gear is plainly down. The airport perimeter is only a few metres away, on the other side of the Great South West Road, and the aircraft's descent is very nearly complete. Get your close-up shot now, before the plane touches down and the engines shriek to dull its speed. Then look back... the next is already on its way.
I stuck it out for almost an hour, my spotting ability generally limited to airline (ooh, it's an Aer Lingus) rather than type. I did however recognise a Boeing 747, because that's easy, and noted that it was one of the three British Airways jumbos in full retro livery [video]. The EtihadA380 also stood out, by far the largest plane to come barrelling almost overhead, on this occasion battling against heavy crosswinds [video]. A lot of the spotters started packing up and leaving after it had landed, safe in the knowledge that it was almost 3pm and nothing else of interest was following.
I can see why the foot of Myrtle Avenue is London's premier planespotting location, and why it attracts such devoted fans. But I don't think I could live here, in the rows of semis unintentionally erected a decade before a major airport erupted nextdoor. It's not just the noise, it's the whiff of aircraft fuel hanging in the air... and the crowd of enthusiasts encamped at the end of the road. [8 photos]
