Visionland
July 24th, 1999
| Visionland July 24th, 1999 |
Our Southern Fried Leg was going to hit a troika of parks and we couldn't have picked a better way to start things off. Walking past the amiable buildings on the quaint Main Street that greets visitors as they enter the place, we peered into the bowl-shaped valley that had been carved out of the red, red Alabama soil. The heat was already starting to bake our brains, but the giddy sight of a 60-horse carousel encouraged us forward towards Celebration City. That's where Rampage is located. That's where Rampage waits. Rounding a corner, we caught our first glimpse. "Am I ready for this?" Brian, our eager young escort, didn't know how tall that first drop was, but little did we know just how deceptive a design was being utilized here. Rampage uses its terrain wisely to create additional speed. There's a good reason for the look of utter disbelief that is in plain view on riders' faces as they re-enter the station on an insanely steep slope. Rampage is a woodie that doesn't screw around.
We dropped like plenty of rocks, diving down into a mass of track supports and slamming to the left in a fit of energy. Instantly at the 56 m.p.h. point, we crested a hill and leapt into a speed bump which led through a tightly and steeply banked 180 degree curve. The lateral G-forces intensified and before we could blink, a second, airtime-inducing drop gave us the speed for a brutal fly-by of the lift, dodging around the structure in those Philadelphia Toboggan Company trains, screams slipping out of our bodies.
We flew from our seats on that express elevator to Hell and were suddenly very afraid. The angle of the slope creates a feeling of "when are we gonna stop dropping?" It's like riding an earthquake.
By the time we had whipped into that final surprise "gotcha!" turn, we had unabashedly added Rampage to our list of all-time favorite coasters. And then, we simply ran around and got in line again.
For a brand-new park, Visionland has done an excellent job of designing and building a world-class woodie with multiple personalities. One can only wonder how the aging process will season this coaster, but I'll tell you what. If that first drop gets any hairier, they'll need to station EMT's at the exit.
When the mayor of Fairfield, Alabama first dreamed of building a theme park in the Birmingham-Jefferson County area, he was pooh-poohed about as much as another very famous dreamer; Walt Disney. But Larry Langford stuck to his beliefs just like Uncle Walt did and the result is Visionland, a 70-acre family park that is rare in that it's owned by 11 city governments. The gates were opened to the public on May 23, 1998 and though still small compared to other more established theme parks, it is already growing by the proverbial leaps and bounds. Wild River Gorge, a whitewater rafting attraction, opened earlier this summer, but the park's star thrillride is a young wooden coaster that is already making a name for itself as one of the most harrowing white-knucklers in the south.
What a beautiful thing to behold. Occupying a respectable plot of land on the side of a sloping hill face was over 3500 feet of twisted track. Quite an awesome sight, especially with the sun shining down upon it in the hazy morning. Dark brown wood slinging this way and that between the dense trees, crossing over and under, slamming down from the top of the hillside and away to parts of the landscape that we couldn't see yet. Nice landscaping job; do riders get a pair of hedge shears as they board? We sized up the impressive-looking structure, wondering how it would actually ride. Funny how these things seem to grow bigger as you walk towards them. Funny how the questions start to flock in your head. 
After settling into the front seat and noting the dry rails that laid out before us, I made some comment about "wishing for a greased track." As the train dispatched and began rolling towards the lift, we noticed a freshly slathered section of rails and thanked the Airtime Gods for the gift that we were about to receive. Hitting the lift with a clankety-chunk, we began the ascension and took the opportunity to get a bird's eye view of the park behind us. Nicely laid out--but soon, our attention was diverted by the suddenly sprawling wood all around us. We were in for some serious G-forces and before we could get properly prepared for the penultimate plummet; it was upon us and we were sliding down into the Valley Of Quick.
Then down again, smelling the frying wood, plunging into a double-dive and then racing into a right turn that led into a delightful series of bunny-hop hills. The front seat pushed through it all, crunching us mercilessly into those half-helixes buried beneath the superstructure of the coaster. Disbelieving laughter met our assaulting turns as the train slipped down again with incredible speed and dove between the supports. Disorientating flashes of slanted gravel and thickly layered trees helped to keep our hands tightly latched onto the lap bar. I mean, it looked intense from the ground, but not this intense. Finally, we hopped over a crazy negative-G rise and hit the trim brakes, slipping to a halt within seconds. Sighs, deep breaths, a couple of utterations of "damn!", they all expressed the very idea that the ride had had its way with us. We sunk into our seats as the brakes released with a short, sharp blast of air. Then suddenly, the track fell away to reveal an unexpected element, half drop, half banked turn. We surged into the curve with great force and all hands slapped back onto the lap bar. A collective surprised cry emanated from the train as we slid back into the station. What a wicked way to end this ride!
Of course, our first reaction was to run around again and hop into the back seat where we expected a different kind of experience. Typically, the front seat offers a great view and you have the feeling of getting shoved through the elements. In most cases, the back seat offers the same ride, but with more of a pulling sensation, especially when falling over the drop crests. That 120-foot screamer of a first descent was going to be mighty tasty, but we had no idea of how schizophrenic this coaster really was. Front seat had offered up a slamming ride. It was obvious from the top of the lift that the back seat was going to be absolutely criminal.
Now, duh, that everything was intensified--but this was something really different. Like we were on a separate train altogether--massive amounts of air-time on those ear-buzzing camelbacks, severe lateral G's on the snappy first turnaround and not as much rough-housing on the structure piercing "Hands Down!" raids. Instead, the wood became a blur and the sheer slicing whine of steel wheels on metal rails bathed us in a sonic fury. Let me tell you directly; the ride don't play.
Later on in the day, our crew expanded to include the Gainesville, Florida band PopCanon. We were all playing a show later on in the evening and had decided to gather together at the new theme park and enjoy the $4.2 million dollar baby that is Alabama's most terrifying rollercoaster. The publicity folks are just being modest. Rampage is simply more proof that size doesn't matter. Not that 120 feet of cliff-diving is anything to snicker at. With a style that lies somewhere between twister and out-and-backer, this is a unique ride that delivers a well-concealed punch. Even if you know about that kicker of a finale; nothing will prepare you for it.