Exploring the Dried-Up Husk of Floating Dragon Amusement Park

Oriented around Floating Dragon Lake, Beijing Amusement Park used to be the premier theme amusement park in Beijing. Opened in 1984, the park attracted 2.4 million visitors a year at its peak and was famous for its roller coasters, 4D cinema, and the capital’s biggest Ferris Wheel. All that remains now is the ruined aquarium, the ghost house, and the slowly decaying remains of that 64-meter-tall (210 feet) Ferris Wheel, which dominates the landscape from its home on the central island. 

Seen from the viewpoint of the crows circling and cawing above, Beijing Amusement Park is spread over a number of manmade islands, with bridges spanning from the central island like the spokes of the Ferris Wheel itself. While all of the bridges are blocked to prevent entry onto the central island, the dried up lake-bed, home to packs of stray dogs and their puppies, can be crossed easily on foot. Janitors hopelessly sweep up fallen autumn leaves, while the odd security guard makes circuits around the massive park.

Beijing Amusement Park covers an area of 530,000 square meters, of which 170,000 square meters is water surface. As the earliest example of a large amusement park in Beijing, it was classified an AAA grade garden-style amusement park jointly operated by China and Japan. The good times lasted until 2006, when Happy Valley on Wuji Beilu opened, luring customers away from the lake in droves. On Jun 17, 2010, the Ferris Wheel took its final turn, and operations ground to halt. Demolition began one year later.

Today, faux seaweed hangs from the decaying ceilings of the ruined Underwater World, and an empty treasure chest sits mouth open wide. The bust of a female goddess sits perched upon the stairs, the figurehead of a ship which sank long ago. Sinking deeper into the depths of the decayed building, Dracula’s castle can be found, a long banquet table set for guests that never materialize.

Out in the light of day, the Ferris Wheel still rotates, albeit slowly, pushed by the dusty Beijing breeze. On a windy day, one rotation might take about two hours, but make sure you don’t get stuck up in one of the cabins, where long ago teenage lovers carved their names in the paint because help might be a long time coming. While the crows seem pretty much at home, demolition crews are reluctant to go near the wheel, as if taking down the monolith might somehow rewind the last three decades of prosperity.

Want more? Read this: Serving to Ghosts at Beijing's Abandoned Olympic Beach Volleyball Court

Photos: Burbex Brin