Travel on Trial: Soaring above Rio in a helicopter with no doors

They don’t call Rio de Janeiro Cidade Maravilhosa – the Marvellous City – for nothing. As well as its massive carnival and New Year’s Eve celebrations, Rio is blessed by geography and climate, not to mention its impressive roster of global icons. From Sugarloaf Mountain to Christ the Redeemer and the sandy sweep of Copacabana, its landmarks are legendary – and from high up in a helicopter, I could see them all at once.

Sightseeing from above is special, but Rio’s trio of marvels deserve a superlative experience to match. That’s why I’d ignored the shorter, more mainstream “flightseeing” options and chose instead this trip with Vertical Rio, a local company whose Robinson 44 choppers have a quirky distinction: no doors.  

While this might seem a health and safety catastrophe in the making, having nothing but air between passengers and the abyss allows you to feel more connected to the scenery. What’s more, it opens up an opportunity to capture an epic “shoe selfie”, which is the ultimate one-upmanship in the age of Instagram.

The experience began with a drive down the coast to Jacarepaguá Airport in the Barra da Tijuca district, some 40 minutes from Copacabana. Signing a waiver on arrival did not exactly assuage any preflight nerves, but there was no time to dwell on the risks before being hustled off to get ready.

An R44 has space for a pilot and up to three passengers, so my fellow daredevils and I were soon rigged up in regulation harnesses and seat belts to which our mobile phones and cameras were strapped. “Is this your first time?” asked the pilot, as we settled into our seats. We all nodded. “Oh good,” he said, before adding with a devilish smile, “it’s my second.”

Before we could change our minds, we were off and flying over Barra da Tijuca’s waterways, wetlands and wide, sandy beach before heading back up the coast to the city. From our cruising altitude of 500ft, we looked down at Atlantic breakers pounding on cliffs topped by millionaires’ mansions, beyond which lay twin-peaked Dois Irmãos and the sands of Ipanema. As we passed over rocky Arpoador, the pilot pulled into hover mode: all the better for admiring Copacabana, curving gracefully away to the Sugarloaf. “Right,” he said from this stationary position, “it’s time for your first shoe selfie.”

Even though our double harnesses meant zero risk of falling out, it nevertheless took a moment or two before we felt brave enough to comply. One by one, we swivelled in our seats to face the perilous drop, then extended our legs to capture the shot of the scenery being intruded upon by our feet. The pilot swung the chopper around so that all three of us got the very best aspect. Then we returned our feet to the floor, and headed inland to our next photo call.

We zipped across rooftops towards Corcovado, an urban mountain cloaked in rainforest whose canopy was speckled with blooms. Corcovado’s peak and its crowning glory – the statue of Christ the Redeemer – are frequently hidden behind banks of cloud, but we were in luck: conditions were perfect. There was Christ glowing in the afternoon sun with arms outstretched. We climbed to a dizzying 2,000ft and waved our legs at the crowds on the mountaintop viewpoint. I wondered what on earth they were thinking as they looked back at us.

We looped around to give us all a chance to get statue and feet in the frame, but I quickly realised that focusing on my shoes felt rather trivial. Being up here was astonishing. I wanted to take in every detail from this privileged perspective – the altitude, the topography, the statue gazing down at Sugarloaf Mountain and the coast – and burn them into my memory so I’d never forget this moment and its sense of wonder.

By our final swing around Corcovado before heading back to base, I knew that ordinary sightseeing would never again be the same.