My memories of my own flick roll in the Culdrose SAR Whirlwind 7. It was not a good day for flying, a howling north westerly wind, so strong that we had to start up and engage in the hangar as we were out of limits to engage outside. Probably frowned upon today but it did get the dust out of the rafters!
We taxied out and took off to look for a fisherman who was missing from below the cliffs near St Agnes, up to the North West. The only way to progress was to fly very low indeed to try to keep out of the gale as our ground speed otherwise would have been even more pathetic than normal. After what seemed like an eternity we arrived close to the scene at very low level and balls out.
As we crossed over the cliff edge those of you with even a rudimentary knowledge of aerodynamics will know what happened next. The upflow of the gale over the cliff edge suddenly and dramatically increased the angle of attack on the blades – the retreating blade stalled – the aircraft flicked rolled to the left – reared enormously nose up – and hurled itself with little control from me across the ocean. I sat there bemused for a very short while, as the unamused SAR crew in the back were flung across the cabin to the port side along with their kit.
After what seemed an age as I was jostling with cyclic, rotor rpm, collective and so on this hunk of aluminium sorted itself out and flew on as though nothing had happened.
We never did find the fisherman and the trip back to Culdrose was at supersonic speed – well for a Whirlwind 7 it was.
Happy days.