Inside the hidden London heliport where a 6 minute journey costs more than most pay in rent

Staff
By Staff

Holidays are supposed to be relaxing. But sometimes just getting to the airport feels like a feat of endurance – gridlocked traffic, missing the last Piccadilly line train, or dealing with slow people in the line for security. It’s hardly the soothing start to a luxurious escape. Unless, of course, you’re one of London’s ultra-wealthy.

In that case, your airport transfer might involve a private helicopter ride and a glass of champagne in a soundproof lounge before your jet even warms up on the tarmac.

For one day only, I got a glimpse into that alternate universe. A glossy world of bespoke charter flights, sky-high commutes and helicopter landings next to private jets – thanks to Charter A, a helicopter company based out of Battersea’s very own heliport.

Enter: the Edmiston London Heliport , discreetly nestled on the south bank of the Thames in Battersea. Blink and you might miss it – but your ears probably won’t. The unmistakable thrum of rotors overhead is part of the local soundscape for residents nearby. Operational since 1959, it’s London’s only licensed commercial heliport – used by everyone from CEOs and celebrities to occasionally the emergency services.

It looks unassuming at first – hidden among apartment blocks and offices – but it’s a hub of high-speed comings and goings. Over the years, it’s welcomed the likes of Justin Bieber, Tom Cruise, Rita Ora, Simon Cowell and, at one point, Boris Johnson.

After arriving (in a distinctly un-luxurious bus), I was greeted like someone who definitely owned a yacht. The front desk staff casually assumed I was off to catch my private jet. And who was I to correct them?

I was ushered into the VIP lounge — all soundproofed walls, unlimited refreshments and plush sofas. It turns out, when you’re rich, you pay to avoid the very noise you inflict on everyone else.

Moments later, a sleek helicopter touched down outside. A celebrity – who shall remain unnamed – hopped off and greeted me like I was someone important. I nodded coolly. Aviators on, I did my best slow-motion strut towards the chopper, Kanye’s Touch the Sky playing in my head.

How the Other Half Fly

Private helicopter travel isn’t just about flashy entrances to Glastonbury or Silverstone (though that definitely happens). Many use it as a time-saving commute. I was told some even do daily flights from Paris to London, which take just over an hour, departing from a helipad next to the Eiffel Tower. It’s their daily commute – avoiding train delays, tube suspensions, getting stuck in the doors and perhaps most importantly – other people.

A return trip to Salcombe (second-home central) costs at least £15,000 . My flight, by contrast, was a six-minute hop to Biggin Hill Airport, near Bromley, for the relative bargain of £3,000 one-way .

From 1,000 feet up, London looked cinematic, even in the drizzle. We swept past the Shard, the London Eye, and Tower Bridge. I rode shotgun, trying not to touch any of the blinking controls.

At Biggin Hill, we landed beside a line of waiting private jets. I was shown around the hangar where some of the helicopters are stored – several of them privately owned, yet barely used. They sit idle most of the year, racking up extortionate maintenance bills while their owners jet off elsewhere.

“Private air travel is part status symbol, part practicality,” an operations manager told me. “If you’re that rich, every minute counts. It lets them move faster, in comfort, and avoid the usual agg of airport travel.”

London’s Sky-High Divide

It’s easy to roll your eyes at this world. But London’s economy depends on it, to an extent. The capital has more multi-millionaires than any other city , according to Wealth Insight, and the heliport is a key access point for them.

“If these people couldn’t fly into London so easily, they just wouldn’t come,” another industry insider told me. “And they wouldn’t spend, or set up businesses, or invest.”

Still, the contrast is stark. While some people are flying sky high over the city in a private chopper, this month MyLondon spoke to a North London man sleeping rough for months after the council ‘didn’t answer his calls’ for housing help. Battersea Heliport might symbolise London’s global status but also its deep economic divide.

And there’s no escaping the environmental elephant in the sky. The luxury travel industry, and private aviation in particular, is disproportionately polluting. In the US, Taylor Swift, Drake, Floyd Mayweather JR, Steven Spielberg and Oprah Winfrey are among those who have been criticised for heavy private jet use.

According to a report by European Federation for Transport and Environment; private jets are 5 to 14 times more polluting per passenger than commercial flights, and up to 50 times more polluting than trains. Just one four-hour private flight emits as much CO₂ as the average person in the EU does in a year. And while private jet use surged by nearly 30% in Europe post-pandemic, calls for tighter regulation are growing.

Alethea Warrington, head of aviation at the climate charity Possible, said: “Private jets, used by a tiny group of ultra-wealthy people, are an utterly unjustifiable and gratuitous waste of our scarce remaining emissions budget to avoid climate breakdown, and their emissions are soaring, even as the impacts of the climate crisis escalate. It’s time for governments to act,” she said. “We need… a super-tax, rapidly arriving at an outright ban on private jets.” Watch this space .

Touch down

As we toured more of the hangar – one helicopter could seat nine people, a number I’d struggle to assemble as friends. While it’s easy to want the glamourous lifestyle. I told myself (or perhaps tried to convince myself) that maybe I did prefer my un-glamorous bus ride. Top front with a friend just gossiping away. No champagne but maybe a M&S tinnie at best.

But that thought ended, abruptly, as I hopped on the bus back to Battersea. I came back to realise I had sat in some chewing gum somewhere along the journey which had firmly stuck to my jeans. Home sweet home.

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