Is it possible to fly a helicopter upside down

Can robotic submarines collect specimens at any ocean depth? Would it be feasible to dump nuclear waste on the Moon? What is the relationship between the length of a boat and its maximum speed? How do the blades of a jet engine start turning? How does an airplane stop on a runway after landing? Can a honeybee cause a sonic boom if it travels fast enough? Browse all questions. Can helicopters fly upside down? Helicopters are highly versatile machines. But when it comes to upside down flight, airplanes have the better hand.

Flying upside down is not something that comes easy to helicopters. Indeed, it can be quite dangerous for most types of helicopters to fly upside down, even though you will occasionally see them flying in other directions.

Helicopters are usually able to fly up, down, sideways, and backwards when they need to. On paper, it is usually possible for a helicopter to fly upside down, but in reality this rarely, if ever, happens due to the danger involved. They can also hover in mid-air and spin around if they wish. Helicopters often have to fly in unusual or even dense areas, which they can handle nicely due to their overall size.

They are used to rescue people and bring people to hospitals, so their maneuverability is important. The military, police departments, and even farmers use helicopters to make their jobs much easier.

They often need for the helicopters to fly on their sides — some for short periods of time and some for longer periods of time.

This is why, in fact, many of them use helicopters at all. In fact, maneuverability is always important, particularly when helicopters are hovering in the air or going at slow speeds. We launch from the Naval Air Station's ramp and pass over the beach. Aaron climbs until he's above the barrier island that he'll use as a reference line to orient himself.

Then he pulls up into the loop. In a matter of seconds we're over the top, then arcing downward. Aaron has discovered that this can be the most dangerous part. That doesn't happen today, I'm pleased to report. Aaron once again pulls up into a climb, then startles me by rolling over to the left until our bodies are parallel to the horizon.

He keeps rolling until we're upside down, then brings us back up the other side. In a plane, the equivalent maneuver would be a mild trick called an aileron roll; in a helicopter, the procedure causes a disconcerting sensation, as if someone were holding you by your heels over the edge of a tall building. Next, Aaron pulls back on the stick and waits for his airspeed to bleed off until we're nearly dead in the air.

Then he pushes the stick forward. A second later we're toppling forward. As we fall straight down Aaron rotates us degrees on a vertical axis so our track is like the stripe on a barber pole, then pulls back so we level out.

Aaron keeps stringing together one maneuver after another: up, sideways, down— whoop! I'm starting to think about a barf bag as Aaron pulls out of a climb and turns us into the wind. He's about to unleash the ultimate. He pulls back, and back, and back. I briefly have the sensation of climbing as the windshield fills with blue, and then the uncomfortable feeling of toppling backward, falling upside down, hanging in my straps, a blur of disorientation.