#ropeway

YOKOHAMA AIR CABIN

横浜みなとみらいロープウェイ

往来往来

飽きもせずに繰り返す

揺れ、軋み、ライトのタイミング、

停止位置、景色、乗客の顔ぶれetc

同じように見える毎日でも

違いはある

必ずある

all right

🚡 Cat & Cake Ropeway 🎂🐱

Just a minute from Ikoma Station is the ropeway stop Tori-Mae Station (鳥居前駅). The carriages there are anything but ordinary – the theme is a cat and cake ride up the mountain!

I hopped on, not for dessert, but to head up towards the theme park and viewing area first. Still, riding in a carriage decorated like a cat café on wheels was a pretty surreal way to start the journey. Only in Japan!

... or what to do on the summit of an active volcano. As inauspicious as that sounds, as long as Mount Hakone's activity can be described as moderate (localised fumaroles and hot springs) and a full-blown eruption doesn't happen, and that hasn't happened in thousands of years, it's possible to settle some permanent attractions. The Ropeway is undoubtedly one of them, and the Geomuseum, housing explanations about the mountain's history and geological peculiarities, was a very pertinent addition 10 years ago.

So, on Whistler Mountain, there was this one chairlift, the Big Red Express (due to be replaced in time for the 2022–2023 ski season with a new lift by the same name), which was notable for, mostly, being remarkably miserable to ride on snowy, windy days; being ten minutes long; and:

This is a rare design feature on ropeways, which only really happens when there's a serious elevation differential across the several metres separating each side of the ropeway. Usually, they'll just build a tower tall enough to support both sides of the cable, unless it's way cheaper to not do that. Which, well, it is here.

But there's another thing that's weird about that tower. Like, here, let me show you a basically identical lift built by the same company, Doppelmayr, around the same year:

Check the tower heads on both — the ones on the second picture are normal for that manufacturer in that era. So where did the Big Red get its weird towers from?

The Redline Express, installed in 1992. I'll get into why it only lasted five ski seasons in a bit, but basically, they ended up having to put that little side tower in because that lift was itself replacing the original Red Chair (1965–1992). Which was built, well, very differently from the big, beefy high-speed lifts that started to become the main workhorses of large ski resorts in the '80s, and which also had chairs that didn't require quite the same vertical clearance or other such space:

So, reusing the same alignment, which was the most direct route from "the top of whatever lift comes up from the base at Creekside" to "up a hill from the main lodge on the mountain, so that people can ski down to the ski racks", but with chairs that need way more vertical clearance and can support larger gaps between towers, meant sticking in a little side tower to make sure people's skis wouldn't brush against the snow (or worse!). Speaking of "worse", though, let's get into why the Redline was replaced maybe a sixth of the way into its theoretical service life:

Think about how it works in practice. For clarity, this is a device intended to secure hundreds of kilograms of metal and passengers to a rope, usually in temperatures below freezing, under conditions where forces on the cable, such as those that occur in the event of an emergency stop, can result in reduced or absent gravitational force acting on the chair.

And for more clarity, look at the upper part of the "jaws" on the cable, and where the hinges are relative to the "jaws". Just one more thing: those tension-providing devices aren't lazily drawn metal springs; they're rubber "marshmallow" springs.

Can you see where the problem might be with this setup? Because this guy didn't:

Meet Janek Kunczynski, the founder of Lift Engineering & Manufacturing Co., AKA Yan, who might as well be the Elon Musk of ropeways. Before I get deeper into just how disastrous his detachable grip design was, let me show you another Incredible™ (derogatory) example of his engineering sensibilities:

Allow me to remind you that this is usually operating in sub-zero temperatures, and that this specific lift was often subject to considerable wind and snow. As in, when mechanics were working on this chairlift, they'd have to do that with no protection from the elements. (It's also at least rumoured within the ropeway and ski resort industries that his lifts were routinely welded together in ski resort parking lots.) His whole thing was, basically, making lifts look cool and implementing them cheaply, to undercut his European competitors, which led not just to impractical designs that were hostile to the people maintaining them or prone to breaking down, but to his company's lifts killing at least five people and injuring at least seventy.

Which brings us back to Whistler:

Whistler, at the time in an arms race to outcompete Blackcomb, its neighbour, but lacking the sort of venture capital backing Blackcomb had, wanted to put in some high-speed lifts to be able to match the skiing experience at Blackcomb, which had already bought several such lifts from Doppelmayr (after buying several low-speed lifts from Yan). So they figured they'd take the cheap route, and get three high-speed lifts, of a fairly unproven design, installed. These were to replace three ancient lifts that were, at that point, constraining the resort's capacity.

While the Redline and Green both served through their five years of operation without any serious issues, the same can't be said for the Quicksilver Express, which was the only chairlift Yan ever built with "bubbles" on it — which required a slightly enhanced grip, to handle the additional weight.

It wasn't enhanced enough, though. On December 23rd, 1995…

The Quicksilver, specifically, was an unmitigated dumpster fire, even before any accidents happened. It was designed such that, in wind, grips could smack against towers, taking on damage in the process. It had a faulty brake system that would apply maximum braking force via the emergency brake when a normal stop is what the operator pressed the button for. At least a few empty chairs had straight up fallen off the cable before the accident. And then there were the grips.

These grips received multiple retrofits and rebuilds throughout the few years the lift was operating, which never seemed to help — they slipped so often that operators on the lift just stuffed paper into the grip force alarm to muffle it. The clearance between grips and towers was known to be below code, and Whistler stated that they simply couldn't fix it. Upon testing the grips after the accident, of 29 tested, every single one failed to perform adequately.

Furthermore, there was the whole thing with the rubber and the claws. Rubber springs lose performance at much less extreme temperatures than metal springs, and the way the grips were designed, a lot of their grip force relied on the chair applying force via gravity. Take away gravity, and the grip can slip. Take away gravity on a particularly steep section of the lift line, and you've got a cascade of chairs knocking each other off of the cable until they ram into a tower and fall to the ground.

So it was 1997, and Whistler, on the edge of going bankrupt from lawsuits and lost business, had to get rid of the other Yan high speed lifts, which were likely safer, but not safe enough. Some resorts retrofitted theirs to use a better grip design, but Whistler just got rid of them…

…other than the towers.