
MISSION BEACH – Since it first roared to life on July 4, 1925, the Giant Dipper roller coaster has stood as a beloved icon of Belmont Park and Mission Beach’s coastline.
Built in four weeks by the masterful design team Prior & Church, it’s one of the oldest wooden coasters still operating today. Its longevity is a rare feat — many early wooden coasters have been lost to time, demolition or neglect. But the Giant Dipper’s unique design, seaside location and dedicated community have kept it thrilling riders for nearly a century.
To understand what makes the Giant Dipper so special, two enthusiasts with deep personal connections to the ride shared their thoughts.
Unique legacy of design, craft
Steve O’Donnell, a retired wooden coaster carpenter, said: “What makes it unique is its age and who designed and built it. There aren’t many old wooden coasters left. Many parks where these rides were located closed, and the coasters were destroyed.”
He highlights the challenges wooden coasters face in today’s amusement landscape: “The big theme parks don’t like the constant maintenance and costs a wooden coaster requires, especially with the skyrocketing price of wood.”
Unlike modern roller coasters designed with computer modeling, early 1900s rides were crafted with an intuitive, trial-and-error approach.
- Shout-out for the Giant Dipper, Belmont Park, still rolling at 100 in Mission Beach
“Designers built a ride, then learned by their mistakes what to do next,” O’Donnell said. “Prior & Church just seemed very intuitive. Each builder did their track and trains a bit differently, and they did the best of both.”
On a side note, he added he will attend the ACE American Coaster Enthusiasts. The annual convention dedicated to preserving older rides is called Preservation Con. This year, because the Giant Dipper is 100 years old, Belmont Park is one of the three California parks where it will be held (SeaWorld and Magic Mountain are the other two).
At the beginning of August, lots of coaster enthusiasts will be there, including O’Donnell.
Why has the Giant Dipper survived?
O’Donnell said the coaster’s survival boils down to location and park size: “If that coaster had been at Magic Mountain, it would have been torn down a long time ago. If a park is too small, it can’t compete with big parks like Disney and Six Flags and goes under. If it’s too big, people want the newest steel monsters, so the wooden coasters don’t get maintained until they’re gone.”
Belmont Park hit the sweet spot: not too big, not too small, and perched right on the ocean’s edge — a perfect recipe for preservation, he added.
Lifelong obsession
Another fan is Jay Margart, who discovered the Giant Dipper in the early 1980s when an aerial photo in The Great American Scream Machine caught his eye. “I became obsessed with this roller coaster that somehow managed to still be standing despite it being closed down for several years,” he said.
By 1991, when he was stationed in San Diego with the Navy, the restoration efforts had succeeded. He vividly remembers his first ride: “It was not as big as the larger theme park wooden coasters I’d ridden, but its turns and tight layout impressed me. It was the roller coaster I’d obsessed over for all those teenage years.”
Margart describes the experience of riding a genuine Prior & Church “bobs” style wooden coaster: “I bought tickets for my shipmates, but they didn’t necessarily share my interest. I loved every second of it.”
He made the Giant Dipper a personal tradition through his years in San Diego: “It’s been part of quite a few first dates — perhaps a test of sorts — and an obligatory destination when people were visiting from out of town.”
Margart shared memories of riding with diverse groups, from rock musicians to siblings and enthusiasts from as far as Holland.
“In 2005, my bandmates and I spent an entire afternoon at Mission Beach for a photo shoot, including photos in one of the original cars that used to be accessible in the Coaster Saloon.”
Preservation heroes
Years later, Margart connected with Tim Cole — the president of the Save the Coaster Committee — and described their friendship as “like meeting Elvis, except alive.” Margart said he appreciates Cole’s generosity in sharing “his gold pass privileges” and deep knowledge about coasters.
Once, while waiting in line for Knott’s Berry Farm’s wooden coaster GhostRider, the two were recognized by a fan of Cole — a testament to his legendary status in the coaster community.
Feel of the giant dipper
For Margart, the Giant Dipper is more than wood and nails; it’s a sensory memory.
“The opening tunnel, the lift crawling out of the nest of wooden beams, the smell of the chain grease, the whip-like snap upwards out of the first drop and the times the operator either bent the rules or didn’t apply the brakes in time and everyone got a free ride are things I will never forget.”
Though he has recently moved away from San Diego, the Giant Dipper remains high on his list of things he misses most. “I hope that someday I will return to the States and ride ‘my home coaster’ again.”
Defying gravity
For O’Donnell, coasters aren’t just rides — they’re “amazing gravity machines.”
“You take it up the lift hill, let it go and gravity brings it back every time,” he said. “Some coasters thrill or scare me, others make me feel like I’m flying. That feeling never gets old.”
He’s quick to give credit to the many people involved: “From the builders to the owners, maintainers and operators, a lot of people’s time and effort go into making these machines available so we can have fun.”
More than just a ride
O’Donnell believes many people are drawn to coasters because they face their fears and feel victorious afterward. “And there’s the scream therapy part — where else can an adult scream at the top of their lungs and not be judged?”
Now retired, O’Donnell spent 10 years working on eight different wooden coasters, including the famed Coney Island Cyclone. “Some rides I worked on are gone, but others have given tens of millions of people fun—that’s a pride nothing can touch,” he said.
“It was hard, dangerous work and it consumed my life. But I’m glad I did it.”
He recalls long days spent on the job: “Twelve-to-sixteen-hour days, seven days a week, all year round. You work during daylight or even at night under lights. Thousands of people want to ride the coaster today, millions over the season. It’s fun making that many people happy — even if it’s risky nightmare work.”










