Today I am heading up North to the Stansted area. It is one airport that I haven’t visited yet. Stansted is best known as London’s popular low-cost airport, home of Easyjet and Ryanair. To get there I am using public transport, a quick train ride from Liverpool Street to Harlow, which is located south of Stansted (there is no Stansted town, the closest is Bishop Stortford). The weather is miserable, the usual suspicious grey blanket of clouds are looming right above me. I have no choice about whether to go or not. I am on a deadline, and the project must be completed on time.

There are nine points on the menu, three single waypoints and something new, which I call the double whammy: Two waypoints located within a very short distance of each other. Harlow looks like any other English countryside town. I leave the station behind quickly and head in the direction of my first destination, sed86. My legs are not particular good today and the wind is blowing from the south-west. The roads are wide and my bike is dirty from earlier trips. I really ought to clean it soon as it may optimise my aerodynamic profile or something. For the first couple of waypoints it is all up and down small country roads. They are bumpy out here, with huge pot holes that no bike can safely cross, so you have to keep your eyes open at all times. It starts to rain. I am cursing mother-nature again, but there is no turning around. There is only the next destination. In the distance I can hear the sound of aircrafts departing Stansted.

As I get inch closer to the actual airport area the scenery changes. Houses grow in size. I am met with a couple of SUVs, pushing me to the side of the road as they drive past me. This is by far the most expensive neighbourhood I have been in. The housing is gated. Gardens have swimming pools and there are signs protesting against the expansion of Stansted airport. I am bit cautious taking any pictures.

Another couple of waypoints are located on a private golf court. I cycle into the parking lot and look around. When I set out on my sorties I made a promise to myself not trespass into private property and only get as close as I can on a bike. My final two points are on a field next to the M11, a stone throw from the airport. I cannot possibly get any closer, and somehow it is very fitting that I have yet to take a single picture of an airport. I take my picture next to a nearby gas station. A truck driver looks at me as get my lightmeter out to do a reading.