My favorite roller coasters have always had an element of gnarliness -- not roughness or harshness per se, just some edge that demands something of the rider. At their most elemental, roller coasters are based on the illusion of riding a train that has gone out of control. Sustaining this illusion, for me, requires a ride thats not afraid to get physical, to shake you up a little. Yet a roller coaster should be a fun, thrilling experience, not a potentially injurious endurance test. While the line of demarcation between the two varies by individual, the modern trend is toward larger, faster, and more refined. I dread the day when gnarliness becomes a thing of the past and the experience of riding a roller coaster involves little more than than a quick rush of variously tilting scenery, the feeling of more or less weight on ones tuckus, and a stiff breeze in the face.
Thankfully, however, were not there yet. Instead, with Hades, we may have arrived at the most nearly optimal roller coaster experience for the widest segment of the population. This is a coaster that stout thrill seekers, children, and grandparents can all enjoy together. Its ride would be almost annoyingly perfect, except that this close an approximation of perfection cannot be annoying.
The thrills come with no waiting. Before you even reach the lift, you are treated to a microcosm of the entire roller coaster experience: a great drop, airtime, speed, laterals, and expertly-executed transitions which lead into a long, shallow lift that allows you ponder the mystery of being in the middle of Wisconsin aboard what just may be the worlds most well-balanced roller coaster. Im not into stats for their own sake, but who can argue with a tall, steep drop when followed by a stellar layout? Before I rode Hades, I thought the underground section was just a gimmick to grab the easiest available record. I was wrong. Even if it were ridden in clear, calm daylight, the stretch of track that follows the lift would be amazing. In inky blackness, it is transformative. The train dips, jukes, climbs the walls, and leaves you wondering which way is up during eight plus seconds of total disorientation before blasting into the light and up and around a twisting, diving turnaround. Then it hurtles over a brief hill and through some kitchy plastic ruins back into the subterranean Maelstrom. The station fly-by on the return trip is the best of its kind. From the queue, the entire station shakes, and the train doesnt just lumber past, it rockets by and negotiates the next turn like Roadrunner giving Wile E. Coyote the slip. The finale, a low-level, sweeping turn, features shallow banking and heavy laterals to remind you that this ride, however finely-tuned, means business.
After the final descent into the station, riders often break into the sort of cheering normally seen these days only on the supermodel steelies. Stepping off the ride, my legs were literally wobbly, yet the experience, while intense and even gutsy, could not be called gnarly. Rather, Hades feels like the bridge that will bring wooden coasters into the 21st century. It captures the essence of the traditional icons but with a finesse that refuses to look back. Impeccable engineering combined with a sense of adventure equals hope for the future of roller coaster design.
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