So to the rides. The thing we rode the most of course was the Galaxi Coaster, getting on with no wait each time and getting at least a nodding acquaintance with the operator. Sylvan Beach Amusement Park also has a carousel, not an antique of the vintage that Carello's inside has, but one that's becoming respectably old in its own right. It's a Theel carousel, made by a company that went on producing metal-body carousel horses after the C W Parker company went out of business. (Legend has it that Parker gave Theel the patterns and such, so that at least someone in town would still be making carousels. Perhaps so.) The carousel's operator was surprised that ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bunnyhugger particularly took so many pictures. Anyway bunnyhugger explained her interest in carousels and I think he asked if we knew about the Carello's carousel over in the building. He also said how he wished the park could fix up this carousel so it looked nicer. bunnyhugger said how it didn't look that bad and, really, no. We've seen park paint carousels in much worse shape.
We got a ride on the Super Himalaya, loving how little its decor seemed to have been touched by time. And it had both a forward and a backwards ride cycle, the way these things should. bunnyhugger felt bad that I made a bunch of little sad whimpering noises, blaming herself for the pain of the ride. This was unfair, though; the problem was the restraint was digging into my thigh, a common problem on Himalayas and other rides that are so based on whirling you to the outside of the car.
None of the kiddieland rides were ones we could get on, of course, but we did look over them for interesting models of things. They had a Kiddie Turtle ride, a (not too rare) miniature of the Tumble Bug that now only exists at Kennywood. And a pony cart ride that I'm not sure was Herschell-Spillman or another; we keep learning of new models and new manufacturers. Little Ferris wheel and boats and tiny cars, things like that. Sylvan Beach's (online) park map says there was a miniature golf course there, but we didn't see one or we'd have surely played.
One great ride that we did finally jump on was the Crazy Dazy. It's a two-wheel version of that spinning teacups ride, with cars that go on circular tracks and sometimes switch to the other, so you get this great figure-eight movement. I could just watch the cars switching between circles all day; it's amazing this thing works, never mind works well.
Crazy Dazy is nestled between the Super Himalaya and the Tip Top, which was another ride we watched a good bit but I think only rode once. Maybe twice. It's a large platform ride, with cars that spin around while the whole platform spins around and elevates on a lever, sometimes dropping down abruptly. These used to be tolerably common fairground rides and you just don't see them anywhere. This is the first I can remember seeing at any of the parks we've been to.
As that fateful, ominous 9:00 rolled up we decided to end the night on Tip Top. And realized that we were a couple minutes past 9:00, by our watches (well, her watch and my iPod). But the ride operator was still hanging around and the lights were on. I was ready to ask if she were still taking rides, when the current cycle finished, but she just opened the entrance lane and we weren't going to ask questions. When we got off it was easily ten minutes past the hour, though, and there was no sign of the park shutting down. Gradually we came to realize we must have been wrong about the 9:00 closing hour. It was 10:00, and what had been a fine enough if slightly short park visit? It was now much closer to ``the right amount of time, at the park''. One more hour may not seem like much but it was this wonderful extra gift and let us go out feeling like we had just the park experience we hoped Sylvan Beach would offer.
And then ... oh, mm. There was one ride we kept looking at, kept thinking about, kept rejecting. This was the Bomber, their Eyerly Roll-O-Plane. It's another once-common fairground ride that's now rare, though not quite Tip Top rare. They have one at Knoebels, for example, and at Lakeside Park in Denver. The Roll-O-Plane --- developed in part by Frank Hrubetz, who'd go on to make the Top Top for his own company --- has a pair of metal cages, on either end of a long arm pivoted from the center. Both cages roll as the main arm pivots, the intention being that your head is kept pointing up most of the time, as far as that's humanly possible. And the main arm pivots too, so that what starts out rotating vertically moves horizontally, and back again. Oh, and if that weren't enough? The main arm then goes through a cycle of rotating the other way. This means you either spend the first or the back half of the ride rotating on two axes backward.
I kept looking at it, knowing that bunnyhugger would never, ever ride this. But I also got back to thinking of how much a shame it would be if the last Roll-O-Planes shut down and I never rode one. (So far as I remember; it's possible I rode one as a kid and don't remember, although I don't know how you would have got young me onto one of those things.) Finally I decided that I wanted to ride it, even if I were going to do it myself.
But bunnyhugger wanted to ride with me, coming to the same conclusion from the same logic. We had a good while to reconsider the wisdom of the choice as no ride operator was there, and none appeared until we and some people lining up in optimistic anticipation after us were there a while. An operator finally did come over, and loaded us into the car that starts the ride cycle forward. Also, we both fit together in the same car, something we weren't quite expecting.
The design of the Roll-O-Plane is such that you're not supposed to ever be inverted. Maybe it doesn't invert us, but we certainly had moments where it looked like we were looking straight down. It was all extremely disorienting, though, and after a minute I couldn't attest to what direction I was pointing in. I could attest that I was getting gnats or moths or whatever the local bug is smacking me in the face, over and over. It was a relief when we started going backwards, on the bug-smacking count, even though that was even more disorienting.
I am very glad to have done this. I'm not sure I would want to do it again. bunnyhugger was sure, but was also very glad to have done it once.
Also at some point in the day I lost my pen, and my backup pen, that I always keep with me. I have to suppose it was the Roll-O-Plane. Well, good voyage to you, faithful pens. One of you was kind of running out of ink anyway.
The park also had a Rock-O-Plane, a sort of Ferris wheel with cages that you-the-rider can lock into whatever orientation (relative your arm) you like. We'd ridden it at the 2019 Pinburgh, and enjoyed that, and while I would be up for doing that again bunnyhugger wasn't. So we let that one go.
We did a little bit of walking around in our extra surprise hour, rejoicing in the way the park looked at night. The operator of the Laffland ride-through turned on the lights at the base of the attraction, so we could get marginally better pictures of the frontage by night, too; it was kind although I'm not sure it was useful. And we got a Crazy Dazy ride in.
For the last ride of the night, though, for real this time? We went back to Galaxi, taking another front-seat ride in the front car. And this time I had a plan for the bugs. We had brought our masks, for those times we'd need to be in doors, which was mostly bathroom breaks and playing of Fascination or pinball or whatnot. (One plastic strap on my N95 snapped while I was taking one bathroom break and I had to rely on the other strap and the straps of my cloth mask, as yes, I wear two layers these days.) I put my cloth mask on and while there were still bugs flying into my face, they were hitting the mask or ... well, my eyes, so the solution wasn't perfect. bunnyhugger had just resolved not to open her mouth for the ride, but she forgot and screamed in joy a few short-lived seconds during this.
And now it was closing time, with rides starting to shut down. We did pass the Roll-O-Plane to see it stopped, though, with people gathered around the lower car and trying to do ... something or other, while some parkgoer talked about something (his phone?) having gotten loose. We watched a while, and they moved the main swing arm a little, and it all seemed not to be making much progress on whatever the problem was. I hope it wasn't two loose pens breaking the machinery.
And this, finally, closed our visit to Sylvan Beach.
Getting back to Indiana Beach, here's the evening coming into its glories.
The late sunset meant we wouldn't get many twilight or night photos but here's one, as the park lights come on, looking down the boardwalk.
There are a couple neon (style?) illuminated signs, most of them abstract patterns but one that's I.B.Crow.
I.B.Crow with a comic foreground for kids who want to look like tacos. The park's longtime taco vendor moved out, the last years under the park's old ownerships, and was coaxed back in by Gene Staples's new management.
Couple kids looking up at Lost Coaster of Superstition Mountain. They don't seem convinced this is a good idea.
More of the illuminated signs of Indiana Beach, with a last gift shop and food stand in the background.
It was that time of night that a very slight difference in angle makes a huge difference in how the photographs of sky look.
Trivia: In 1648 John Wallis was named Savilian Professor of Geometry at the University of Oxford. Wallis had no mathematical teaching or publishing credentials at the time. Source: Infinitesimal: How a Dangerous Mathematical Theory Shaped the Modern World, Amir Alexander. This for a post that Sir Henry Savile founded to try correcting the poor state of mathematics in England in the 17th century. (Wallis, named for his political/religious convenience, would learn the subject and become a creditable mathematician; he's the person known for introducing the ∞ symbol to the world.)
Currently Reading: The Sputniks Crisis and Early United States Space Policy: A Critique of the Historiography Of Space, Rip Bulkeley.
