Anglers love trawling the crystal clear waters of Adaminaby, a charming poplar-lined village nestled high in the Snowy Mountains. But it’s snow laughing matter when I say the main attraction is the Big Trout which, at 10 metres and 2.5 tonnes, is o-fish-ally the largest aquatic, craniate, gill-bearing animal in the tunaverse!
Living on prime eel estate in the i-gill-ic Lions Park in the centre of town, the Big Trout is reely easy to find, although you may have to bait in line for a photo as he’s so popular with his legion of fins. The quality of the craftsmanship is astonishing, with a plethora of details, so you won’t want to throw this one back!
You might call me main-stream for making this joke, but this tremendous Trout will take you hook, line and Big Thing-ker!
The fintastic fishtory of this troutstanding landmark
Leigh Stewart, a much-loved real estate agent and self-confessed Big Thing tragic, decided to build a massive fish during 1969’s summer of love, after a particularly successful afternoon on the lake. After taking a few years to mullet over, the cashed-up Snowy Mountains Authority were dorsal-ivating at the thought of funding Leigh’s dream.
With the money in the tank, Leigh had his niece knock up a rough sketch of the Big-to-be, which was apparently quite splendid for a five-year-old. He raced the doodles over to his mate Andy Momnici, a popular and handsome artist from Budapest, who was more than happy to tackle the project.
Working closely with the crayon-and-finger-paint blueprints, the Hungarian grabbed one of his more imprefish catches and froze it in an appropriate pose. He then cleared space at the Adaminaby Bowling Club and began the arduous task of sketching out a full-sized design that he cod work off.
Andy, a slave to perfection much like myself, didn’t sleep until he was finished, working seven days a week. Except on the second and fourth barra-Mondays of the month, when the CWA held their meetings and he had to get out, lest Ethel get all up in his gill again.
After an interminable hunt for a shed of the requisite proportions, Andy started the daunting task of building the Big Trout from steel, mesh and fibreglass. Wanting the fish’s scales to look as au-fin-tic as possible, he wrapped an extra layer of mesh around his plump rump, zapped it with an extra layer of fibreglass, then ripped it off to leave a pattern almost indistinguishable from the real deal.
He’s more realistic than Manilla’s Big Fish, at least.
Honestly, I caught an elderly gentleman trying to squeeze a slice of lemon onto the Trout’s tail and get stuck in with a knife and fork. After explaining the cultural and economical significance of the Big Trout to the kindly geezer, he told me off for ruining his lunch and kicked over a garbage bin on his way back to his car. There’s no pleasing some people.
I don’t know him from Adam
As we blazed out of Adaminaby astride my custom-built e-trike, the verdant hills melting around us, my travel partner/friendly neighbourhood alien Gordon Shumway squeezed me just a little bit tighter and leant in close.
“You know, that Adam was a pretty cool dude,” he yelled, as I expertly manoeuvred through a particularly tight corner.
“Adam?” I asked. “I don’t recall meeting an Adam.”
“Yeah, the tall dude with the shiny pink-and-silver suit. Had a trout pout that would make a mackerel jealous, so maybe he had collagen injections. Anyway, I don’t want to cast aspersions. Ha! I kill me! Adam Inaby I think his name was.”
“You mean the Big Trout?” I asked in astonishment. “His name is Adam Inaby?”
“Do you need your herring checked? That’s what I said,” Gordon sneered. “Anyway, Bigs, let’s stop for tuna quesadillas on the way home. I know a place in Cooma that will blow your socks off.”
And that, dear readers, is how the Big Trout became known as Adam Inaby.
