Ride comes before a fall

(This is Travel, 2005)

I’m not really what you’d call a theme park person, and the conversation on the shuttle bus from the hotel to the park wasn’t doing much for my enthusiasm.

I’d casually mentioned to Ray, one of my fellow commuters and father of three excited children, that I was going to try the new ride, the Hurakan Condor. The ride, a 325 foot freefall at speeds of over 70mph, had been unveiled as part of the tenth anniversary celebrations at Spain’s biggest theme park, Port Aventura on the Costa Dorada.

Having braved the Condor the day before, Ray was launching into graphic descriptions of the digestive malfunctions I could look forward to. As pep talks go, it was less than inspiring.

The ride hoved into view about half a mile from the park. It’s always reassuring to get a sense of scale combined with time to build up your fear. I was there early, and I thought I would do one of the other rides first, just to boost my confidence. Sadly, the rides where you go round at four miles an hour in a big tea cup were all busy, so I had to make do with Dragon Khan, the world’s only eight loop rollercoaster as a warm up.

The Dragon Khan is in the Chinese area, which is all immaculate bamboo trees and suitably oriental buildings. As well as an attached water park, Port Aventura is divided into five of these areas, with a relaxing Mediterranean area, dusty Old West and Mexican areas and a lush Polynesia. There’s an impressive attention to detail, and you get the feeling that plenty of thought went into the scenery, rather than just lumping things together randomly.

Eight loops later and I felt exhilarated, but like I’d just been put through the short spin cycle. Still, there were plenty of eight year olds racing back into the queue for another go, so there must be a ready market for extreme diziness.

I made my way towards new pastures, making a note to return for the acrobats at the Chinese Theatre. I would have loved to sit around watching the shows – the authentic Polynesian Dance extravaganza, for instance, or work my way through the fantastic variety of themed food outlets.

I couldn’t escape the draw of the Condor, though, its towering presence taunting me wherever I went. It dominated the park skyline, its soon-to-be victims milling about in ever decreasing circles, drawn in like moths to a flame, or at least moths to a 100 metre freefall.

I was hoping for at least a chance to compose my thoughts in the queue, but people who are there by themselves – that would just be ME, then – are assigned a special queue of their own and I was thrust into the harness before I could even begin my internal dialogue about why exactly I had signed up for this.

Next thing I know, me and three ten year olds are dangling our legs in space as we were hoisted 100m up on an unfeasibly thin pole. So this is how it ends, I thought.

I fixed my gaze on the horizon, of which you could see worrying amounts. As long as I could focus on anything but the floor, felt it would be OK. Sadly, though, this luxury is instantly denied to you, the chairs tipping 45 degrees forwards before being released into the void.

There isn’t much to think about on the way down. “This isn’t so bad” was my initial thought, as we hit about one tenth of our maximum speed. Then, in no particular order came “We’re going down really fast but we’re still really high up”, and then “I think my internal organs are about to implode”.

At the bottom, gasping for breath but with my adrenaline levels perhaps higher than they had ever been, I asked my co-rider William, who was about 11, what he thought of the experience. “Yeah, it was good. I thought it would be scarier.” I’m not sure, but I don’t think he could have been paying attention properly.

I staggered out, bought a photo of myself just to prove I’d been there, and went to sit in the Fishing Village to recover. A few minutes later, and with a renewed sense of self-worth, I set off for more exploring. Perhaps the log flume, or the Can-can show in the old saloon, just for research purposes.

There was certainly plenty more to see, and not all of it involving heart-stopping freefalls. As long as there are adrenaline junkies, though, The Hurakan Condor will ensure a steady stream of willing victims for some time to come.

(Back to Arrivals)