Six Flags Great America (Part 2)

Gurnee, Illinois

I was once asked by a friend why Cedar Point was able to build better rides than Six Flags Great America. It caused me a moment’s pause. Great America doesn’t have much in the way of truly bad rides, and I’d say the worst roller coasters near Chicago are significantly better than the worst roller coasters near Sandusky. It’s just that the pleasures are smaller in scale, which should be no less important. Demon, Viper, American Eagle, Whizzer, and others are all coasters whose merits, though minor, are very real.

At that moment, however, the best defense of Great America I could think of was that they tend to be more experimentally-minded and buy more prototype technologies than their competitors or other parks in the Six Flags chain do. They have a strong relationship with Bolliger and Mabillard, I think through Bob Mampe, who worked here before going on to become one of the Swiss company’s main right-hand men. As a result Great America bought the first stand up coaster from B&M, the world’s first inverted coaster, one of the first B&M speed coasters, and they were also very early adopters of both the flying coaster technology and now the wing coaster technology.

The major problem with this strategy of leading the technological curve is that after a couple of years what was once innovative will look humble, and a newer model will debut somewhere in the world that realizes more of the hidden potential of the technology that prototypes are infrequently able to tap. Cedar Point uses the opposite strategy as Great America, waiting until new technologies have matured at other parks before they order it for themselves. Armed with bigger, faster, and usually better coasters that are more difficult for competitors to expand upon in terms of scale or quality, their collection is therefore able to stand the test of time and dominate the top ten lists over the long term. The irony is, parks like Cedar Point need parks like Great America to exist. Otherwise we’d never get anything original or good. Batman: The Ride is the perfect example of this: a terrific roller coaster in its own right, Raptor expands on the qualities that made Batman good and roughly two decades later Raptor is still making the front page of the Golden Ticket Awards list while Batman (perhaps with fans scattered between its many iterants) is nowhere to be found.

At least the park’s other inverted superhero themed coaster, Superman: Ultimate Flight has no direct equivalent at Cedar Point. It in many ways recalls its predecessor while in other ways offering the completely opposite experience. Batman is gritty and intense and based on quick variations in the layout, while Superman is graceful and slower paced, based on creating a singular flight sensation, and quite honestly it’s all a tad boring. It’s probably no surprise then that most enthusiasts (myself included) would take Batman over Superman any day of the week.

That said there is more to justify the “Superman Experience” than I originally would have admitted, but what’s there still isn’t nearly enough to justify any two-hour waits. I speak from experience, as the longest I ever waited for a roller coaster was this ride back in 2005 at nearly three and a half hours (there might have been longer lines in Millennium Force’s opening year but I can’t recall the specifics). The queue is one of the most dreadful in the park, a poor combination of slow dispatch times, high popularity with the public, and a configuration that first keeps you pent up in a claustrophobic cattle pen before sun baking you in a shadeless beeline to the station with faded informational comic posters to keep our eyes off the many empty pairs of seats between riders that are often seen cycling overhead. Flash Pass is recommended if you’re serious about riding Superman even once on even a moderately busy day.

The prone “flying” position does transform the ride experience into something relatively different from the rest. Pretty much every g-force you feel is redirected by 90 degrees, creating new directional forces we rarely if ever get to feel on a coaster, e.g. forward and backward forces are normally only felt on launches and brake runs; maybe spinning coasters. And in none of those situations are the g-forces derived from gravitational conflicts (along the up-down axis), giving a unique vocabulary to the styles of sensations on this coaster.

On the other hand I’m still not convinced that this seating position is the best way to achieve a flying sensation on a roller coaster. The main reason is that when we imagine what it would feel like to free-fly, a sense of freedom (which I think latently implies a form of zero-gravity) is generally assumed. That’s obviously not possible to sustain, and the constant downward pull on our bodies in a rather awkward position psychologically keeps us fairly earthbound; and that’s yet not including the somewhat encumbering, bear-hug restraints in the equation. Actually they are quite comfortable (compared to the Vekoma Flying Dutchmen) but the fact remains that resting on your chest is a kind of unnatural feeling position, and that’s something a true flying coaster can’t be without.

Then there’s the layout. Maybe it’s just me but if I could fly like Superman I wouldn’t zig-zag over the same cleared field. I’d go places, over and under things, stuff like that. Every seat has an unrestricted view, and yet the park doesn’t capitalize on this at all; the uniform mowed lawn it’s built on only broken up by the same blue supports and the occasional queue line (where everyone underneath quietly wonders if we’ll spit or drop change on them as we pass overhead).

Also, in terms of layout progression, it’s rather awkward. The initial pretzel loop easily stands alone as a completely unique defining moment of the ride. The dynamics are unlike anything else, so when it comes right at the beginning of the layout it makes the rest of the coaster feel boring by contrast. Airtime at the top, strong positives at the bottom, plus the rapidly changing orientation to the ground that has us in a kamikaze dive upside down. And remember these are all skewed by 90 degrees so it’s a particularly wacky brand of airtime that presses up on your chest instead of from underneath, and the force at the bottom feels like it’s going to push your stomach out of your esophagus. It’s a cool element, possibly the most impressive single maneuver inside Great America’s gates.

After that, layout, elements, pacing and progression all get shoved out the door in favor of a somewhat idyllic series of turns that don’t accomplish anything other than give a unified sensation of flying for several seconds. From a designer’s perspective, this track is pretty simple; looking at it from the station I realized most of the curves were based on simple geometric shapes and parabolic contours, nothing more advanced or intricate, with very long transitions. This section of the ride is rather short as well, only about 22 seconds before the free-flight is over and we’re wrapping it up with the final inline roll into the brakes.

By the way, here’s an interesting debate I’m not sure I’ve ever seen had: does this final roll count as an inversion? By most accounts, yes, the track clearly rotates a complete 360 degrees. But what about from the rider’s perspective? It simply rotates you sideways from laying on your stomach to laying your back, so it doesn’t seem proper to call it anything that implies we’ll be inverted. Yet it also would seem wrong to not call it an inversion, when the track is shaped nearly identical to other heartline rolls and in-line twists on standard, upright coasters, so why should those elemental properties change just when a particular train design is on them instead? Food for thought…

If all of Six Flags Great America’s coasters went to high school, Demon would be the sweetly shrimpy nerd that dyed his hair jet black and got an ear piercing to try to fit in with the hipster goths. It’s got the all-black paint scheme with goofy rock-face structures, two special effects tunnels that try to dazzle and impress even though they used these big, carnival style incandescent light bulb strips, and of course the old “Demon Song” was playing all over the station. Step into the Demon queue and you’ll be directly transported back into 1980.

The coaster itself is pretty decent, particularly enhanced at night when the line tends to be its shortest. You do have to be of a certain height to enjoy these Arrow looping coasters, as too short can mean the horsecollar restraints connect with your earlobes, and too tall means they fit uncomfortably tight on top of your shoulders. If you’re in the intended height range then the first drop and two loops can be a fun, intense and dizzying affair. I’m curious what it was like as the Turn of the Century and had two camelback hills where the loops are today; they looked like more extreme versions of Cedar Point’s Corkscrew’s single air hill and that one is quite intense by itself.

Things like the long straightaway in the special effects tunnel or diving through the mouth of a rock face cave help make the coaster an exciting one, campy though these touches are. The second half after the tunnel doesn’t have quite as much going for it as the first; the turnaround takes a while to get through and then the corkscrews over the railroad tracks and final helix are both a bit slower paced and a bit rougher (the transition from the drop into the first corkscrew in particular has a bad kink in it you’ll want to brace for). But it helps round out the layout to feel more complete than some of the other early small scale Arrow multiloopers that barge through the course in less than 45 seconds. Honestly I don’t miss the much larger Shockwave at all since Great America still has the Demon, whose  mixture of low-key thrills with a larger-than-life persona and  1980’s cheese fest, make it one of the most purely fun coasters in Six Flags Great America.

Similar has been said about the relative entertainment value to its unpretentious scale for the Viper, but I must admit more mixed feelings for this attraction. Many regard it as the best pre-millennial wooden coaster operating at a Six Flags amusement park, mostly for its pops of airtime combined with a very comfortable, well maintained ride. I don’t contest either of these points as it’s been a number of years since Viper has felt anything less than brand new, but as another Cyclone-clone the layout seems relatively conservative and doesn’t do much for me.

It’s still a very fun ride, and easily accessible to people unsure about wooden coasters. The station and setting is great, the cathedral-like support structure looks magnificent, the two thirty-passenger trains keep the line moving, and best of all it is impeccably maintained. It feels like luxury shock absorbers have been retrofitted to the trains, so smooth do we sail over airtime hills and turns with no loss of pace due to potholing or shuffling that normally plagues wooden coasters from this era. I couldn’t be sure but it appeared as though there were more layers of wood that make up the track than on most wooden coasters.

So why do I merely give it a passing grade? I think it was just that the coaster lacked much bite. Many of the bookending fan turns were a bit of a snooze, the first one with very gentle lead-ins/outs from the hill crests, and while the others have some lateral force to them the transitions feel similarly controlled. There was none of the sharp snaps around corners and into drops that I enjoyed on the Georgia Cyclone. Things are better when moving along a mostly straight path over camelbacks or bunny hops, but again in all seats they lacked any sort of aggressiveness, instead opting for smooth, sustained floater air. That’s alright in most cases, but not for a ride based on the Cyclone where I expect more out-of-control intensity. Regardless, this isn’t the ideal layout for that type of airtime since only one or two hills are achieved before the pace has to halt for another fan turn that accomplishes little besides turning the train around again. Probably the most effective moment was the double dip off the second turn and the sharp, straight camelback hill buried in the lift super structure that followed. Intense, yes. Aggressive, not quite; the transitions were still feather-light and lacked the snap I’d expect from a true wooden twister. It’s not enough to just be held out of my seat, I want to be jolted out of it. Maybe it was just a case of having the wrong expectations, but I personally would take the other, edgier Cyclone counterparts over this one any day of the week. Viper is the caffeine-free substitute product for people who find the original too strong.

Great America’s other wooden coaster, the American Eagle, was an attraction I used to never care for very much, or even gave much thought to. Which genius was it that thought a gigantic helix in the middle of a twin-tracked coaster would be a good element to ensure evenly timed races? The plus-plus-sized heights and speeds only meant that a): the fast parts would be all the more rough and unbearable, and b): they would quickly be braked, turning it into one of those overscaled lame duck monstrosities. Being one of only two coasters in the park without Flash Pass entry is also not a good omen; the station is located behind the railroad tracks leading to an awkward, half-mile queue over and around obstacles that would be nearly impossible to integrate a Flash Pass merge point with, not that it matters since the dual dispatches and lower popularity mean it usually has some of the shortest lines in the park anyway.

We’re poised on the edge of the first drop (147 ft, second largest drop in the park and still well within the top ten for wooden coasters) and here’s a good sight to behold: no trim brakes anywhere along the first stretch of the ride! (Evidently I’ve been conditioned by Mean Streak to just assume they will be a prominent feature on any coaster that predates CCI’s first work.) The train falls way down, partially into a valley, the return tracks flanking either side of us and creating a cool support bridge overhead as we pull out of the first drop.

The official statistic for speed is 66 mph. Normally I take those values with a grain of salt, at least for older coasters that probably haven’t run at their listed speed since opening season, but with no trim brakes or anything else holding us back, I must say, it felt fast. Almost dangerously fast. Despite the high speeds it wasn’t rough; those excellent Viper crews obviously have been spending a fair amount of time on the Eagle as well. However, there was a strong vibration, unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced: an extremely fine but aggressive vibration, like we’re sitting in a vibra-massage chair set on high. It doesn’t jostle us around, it just rattles our nerves while our center of gravity moves smoothly forward like we’re on Raging Bull. It also rattles my nerves thinking about how ridiculously fast we must be going to get this sort of sensation.

Two very low bunny hops keep this incredible pace up as we get lifted over the crest of each hill for a couple moments of floater air. “Now this is what more roller coasters should be like,” I think as we rush through the final valley before the big pull-up, the terrifying speed melting the immediate surroundings into a blur as we charge along with the utmost control, feeling as though something could go wrong at any moment even though it hasn’t. A brake run is found at the top of this hill, not a big deal because we’re so far up that the train has slowed to 10 mph anyway. While the pacing has slowed to almost nil, the downward helix works very effectively at slowly building tension, as the speed continues to increase as we make our way around it, laterals increasing, vibrations getting stronger and stronger until we reach full speed in the last stretch. The slow building tension lets up for a fast, straight stretch of track as we cross under the upper layer of the helix, and then it implodes. A dip taking us the rest of the way to ground level comes out of nowhere and hits us hard, especially riding in the back seat. Strong ejector air is sustained for a moment as the speed blasts back into the dangerous levels it was on the first leg of the journey. Some more lean, mean airtime hills follow showing off just how much power this coaster has when it’s running at full speed. It differs slightly depending on which side you’re on; the red side (left track going up the lift) is more intense with an extra airtime hill on the way back.

The ride I described above could easily find its way onto my top 25 list of wooden coasters, but unfortunately those high-speed sections last too briefly, and on the return run we are halted after only two or three hills with a brake run that spits us into a pointless helix finale. Very slow by comparison to the rest of the ride, it’s also has the worst issues with shuffling, and in general breaks flow and feels like it belongs to a different ride. After that distraction we’re greeted with another brake run, this one final. Regardless, today I firmly consider the American Eagle one of my favorite roller coasters at Six Flags Great America, along with the next and last ride I’ll review.

Is there no pride left in being a family coaster? These days if a park wants to add a family ride, it must be brief, compact, brightly colored, and spinning. What happened to the days when a coaster could be a genuine work of art while still being accessible to entry-level riders? With Big Bad Wolf now gone the Whizzer could very well be the best example of a classical family coaster that’s just as appreciated whether it’s your first coaster or your four-hundredth. From the layout to the rolling stock to the natural setting in the center of the park (did that land really used to be a flat cleared field?) the Whizzer is full of unique character.

It starts with the trains, which are designed placing riders inline, allowing two people to share in the excitement of the ride together if they wish, and for single riders there is plenty of legroom and the restraints (a loose seatbelt, which there’s always someone who can’t figure it out and holds everyone else up) are as non-restrictive as they come just short of no restraints at all. The low slung sides also allow for one plenty of visual freedom, as well as increasing the sense of exposure to the surroundings as you feel as though you could easily reach out and grab leaves off the trees if you really wanted to. The spiral lift is a relative oddity in this day and age. The motors that power it uphill are located inside the trains under your seat, although I’m not sure if they’re powered from an electrical strip along the lift or are completely self-contained. Because the lift wraps around three and a half times we have plenty of time to think about the ride ahead before we get to the top.

The first half of the Whizzer is exceptional, with no steep drops to speak of but some long runways that quickly build momentum and let the train fly effortlessly through ground level turns along the forest floor. These are well balanced with slower moments circling around the canopies, allowing time to breath. The first drop in particular can even be a bit intimidating, recalling in some ways the Beast’s incredible finale, with a long, shallow descent accumulating speed before that potential energy explodes into kinetic as it plows around the sharp turn through the trees at the bottom, making me wish momentarily I had more holding me inside than just a flimsy seatbelt.

After the bend around the outside of the spiral lift the layout doesn’t thrill me as much. It wanders through some s-curves halfway between ground and sky, finishing the layout with a downward helix. I think Schwarzkopf could have done something better than a helix, that’s a bit too easy and simple a solution, and one that feels a tad overused. Overall the finale doesn’t quite fulfill the promise of the first half, and the ride is slightly uneven in that regard. I imagine young coaster riders might be too frightened by the more intense opening act, and then, once they’ve gotten used to the ride experience there’s nothing new to challenge them in the second half. Or maybe that’s a good thing; first impressions can be scary while last impressions should be joyful, that’s how you encourage young enthusiasts to get back in line a second time.

Is the Whizzer the best roller coaster in the park? At night, I think possibly so. Between the dense forest, quirky yet comfortable rolling stock, and long layout that’s difficult to memorize even after multiple laps, it’s where I always tend to find myself heading once the sun starts to dip below the horizon during a day at Great America. The very thought that it was nearly removed for Superman back in 2002 is quite upsetting, but thankfully I was far from alone in these sentiments. Should it ever need to be retired for legitimate reasons, hopefully Six Flags can contract Mack or Gerstlauer to carefully recreate the entire layout with as little disruption to the station and landscape as possible. If they need to introduce new seating configurations to increase capacity I can accept that, and if they want to add a little more spice to the second half of the layout I’d be more than happy. They can scrap X-Flight, they can level Viper, Raging Bull can be relocated to Mars for all I care. Just leave the Whizzer for future generations, and I’ll always have a reason to come back.

Part One – Batman: The Ride – Raging Bull – Iron Wolf – X-Flight