Until 2019, Animal Kingdom’s Expedition Everest held the record for most expensive rollercoaster. Costing an astonishing $100,000,000 – not much less than, in today’s money, the cost of the entire original Disneyland – the attraction was a radical and revolutionary addition to the world of rollercoaster design.
Built in and around a 199.5ft tall homage to Mount Everest, the attraction takes guests on a fast-paced mountain adventure pursued by the mythical Yeti. With multiple changes of track and direction, one of the most advanced animatronics ever designed, and not a single inch left unthemed, Expedition Everest was – and still is – a technological marvel.
But it was money wasted.
Reader, it was only a matter of time before we discussed the Disco Yeti.
The Disco Yeti
Although Expedition Everest recently lost the title of most expensive rollercoaster, it might hold the record for themed entertainment’s most expensive design flaw.
The thrilling climax of Expedition Everest brings guests face to face with a 25ft tall audio-animatronic Yeti. With a monstrous roar (provided by accomplished voice actor Fred Tatasciore), the Yeti uses all of its 5ft range of motion to frighten guests more than any drop the coaster has to offer. As well as being the largest, it is among the most complex animatronics Disney has ever created. Staring up at the Yeti from the action of Expedition Everest, it isn’t difficult to see where that record-breaking budget went.
So it’s pretty disappointing that it only worked for a few months.
Shortly after the opening of Expedition Everest in 2006, the Yeti’s framing began to split, breaking apart with each movement of the 4 tonne animatronic. The risk of catastrophic damage became alarmingly real, and Imagineers were left with no choice but to power it down. The Yeti hasn’t been operational since.
The truth of exactly what went wrong has never explicitly been confirmed, but the popular theory among theme park enthusiasts points to a glitch in the software used to plan Expedition Everest’s construction.
Consisting of three separate structures that fit together like the world’s most complicated game of Tetris, the construction of Expedition Everest was an extremely intricate ordeal. To plan such a challenging build, reliance on construction scheduling software ConstructSim was crucial. Following the plan devised by ConstructSim – which Imagineers had every reason to trust – the Yeti’s concrete foundations were mistakenly allocated inadequate curing time. The project was completed and the attraction opened, but without a structure capable of safely supporting the audio-animatronic. By the time the problem was noticed, it was too late to correct.
The Yeti was switched into B-mode or, in other words, powered off. As compensation, Imagineers installed a strobe effect over the static figure to create an illusion of movement. Fans coined the nickname Disco Yeti, and it stuck.
However, the origin of the Disco Yeti is not an unforgivable oversight, nor is it the design flaw I referred to earlier.
The mistake is that the Disco Yeti is impossible to fix.
For clarity, it isn’t truly impossible. Not really. But since it would require the entire mountain to be dismantled, impossible isn’t so hyperbolic.
For years, Imagineers have been trying to repair the Disco Yeti. Joe Rohde, who lead the development of Expedition Everest and famously promised “I will fix the Yeti someday, I swear”, retired in 2021 without successfully finding a solution.
You have to understand, it’s a giant complicated machine sitting on top of, like, a 46-foot tall tower in the middle of a finished building. So, it’s really hard to fix, but we are working on it. And we continue to work on it. We have tried several things, none of them quite get to the key, turning of the 40-foot tower inside of a finished building, but we are working on it. I will fix the Yeti someday, I swear.
Joe Rohde (2013)
In all its cutting-edge construction and record-breaking budget, no plan was made for emergency maintenance of the attraction’s centrepiece. As Expedition Everest enters its 16th year, a significant portion of its $100 million cost sits stationary while a strobe light pleads with guests to pretend it moves.
To Disney’s credit, it isn’t a mistake they’ve made twice.
Like any themed entertainment enthusiast, I do have an affection for the Disco Yeti. I appreciate the lesson it teaches. I admire what it was and what it should have been. I love that I can mention the words Disco Yeti to someone and instantly know how far down the Imagineering rabbit hole they’ve fallen. But, at the same time, I can’t deny my disappointment. I wish I could have seen the yeti move.
I give the Disco Yeti two stars.
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