Category: Adelaide

The Big Rocking Horse, Gumeracha, SA

To journey into the Land of the Bigs is to see the world through the eyes of a child, with all the wonder and excitement that brings. The massive melons and mega marsupials, scattered haphazardly across Australia like toys on a playmat, harken back to a more innocent age. They make us feel small again.

Never is this more true than when standing in the shadows of Gumeracha’s Big Rocking Horse.

Rising 18 metres above the verdant knolls of the Adelaide Hills, this 25-tonne pony is a grandiose tribute to the playful, whimsical and – dare I say it – immature nature of the locals. Upon first seeing the Rocking Horse, who reins supreme from above the treetops, one can’t help but be overwhelmed by his immense size and robust, idiosyncratic construction.

But the full majesty of this Big can only be appreciated by clambering to the viewing platform atop his handsome head. This epic endeavour costs just $2, and those valiant enough to make the journey shall be rewarded with a certificate. Yes, there’ll only be one long face when you’re atop The Big Rocking Horse, and it shan’t be yours!

If nothing else can convince you to load up the wagon and gallop over to Adelaide, consider this your invitation. As local singer-songwriter – and lifetime admire of all things Big – Paul Kelly once sang,

All the Big Horses and all the Big Men
Would certainly drag me back again
To Adelaide for some orange marmalade, sitting by The Big Apple in the shade, thanks to The Big Hills Hoist my day’s been made

Or something like that. Thanks, Paul!

Between a Rocking Horse and a Hard Place

With his carefree grin and enchanting eyes, you could be forgiven for thinking this Big has nary a care in the world. Living so close to Scotty the Big Scotsman and The Big Pigeon, why would he? There is, however, a rocky story behind this horse.

When local businessman Wal Wilkinson opened a toy shop in Gumeracha in 1973, he was not met by the expected scenes of jolly jubilation. Facing an uphill saddle to attract customers, he dug into his toybox and produced a kinda-sorta-large effigy of a giraffe, which he plopped outside the front door.

When this foaled – oops, I mean failed! – to yield results, he turned to a series of wooden rocking horses, the first three metres tall, the second five. They drew in a few curious onlookers, but one thing had become abundantly clear; if Wal wanted to make it big, he had to go BIG.

In 1980, Wal enlisted David McIntosh Taylor, a structural engineer of great repute, to build a gee-gee large enough for people to climb. A night-mare task for some, but not for this savant of roadside attractions. Not wanting to rock the boat, David rolled with the request, and the resultant stallion took eight months to build at the respectable cost of $100,000.

Criminy, you wouldn’t be able to get a Bangladeshi-made hobby-horse for that price these days!

The brumby-lievably big bronco was officially opened in 1981, and immediately became a colt hero. Wal’s vision was off to the races, and his business was finally financially stable.

Disaster struck in 1999, however, when the viewing platform was shuttered after a youngster, brimming with youthful exuberance, took a tumble whist navigating the Rocking Horse’s labyrinthine staircase. A tragedy, sure, but is the potential for a few maimed kiddies reason enough to prevent the rest of us from enjoying the view?

Oh, you think I’m being selfish? Get off your high horse and quit nagging me!

It’s Only Rockin’ Horse (But I Like It)

The Big Rocking Horse has been bought and sold more times than a narcoleptic racehorse. The complex was sold to dapper South African chap Anthony Miller for almost a million dollars in 2004, who subsequently passed it on to fellow Saffers Frans and Lyn Gous in 2009. Maybe they thought he looked like a Big Springbok?

This Aussie icon is now back in Aussie hands, with Mell and Mark Penno taking over in 2023. Their unbridled passion for the horsie means they have big plans to expand the park, which already has a large gift shop, animal park and cafe. Try the lamingtons and thank me later!

This ex-steed-ingly vast horsie stands as one of the biggest – neigh, the biggest – children’s toy around, and was even recognised by Guinness World Records as the largest rocking horse on the planet. What was an immense source of pride for all South Australians became a state-wide sore spot when, in 2014, The Big Rocking Horse was unceremoniously stripped of the prestigious title, which was handed to a proportionately petite plug in China.

Some say the Yi Jinping ordered the change as part of his merciless war on the West, others say it was simply because the oriental version is actually able to rock. Either way, our little friends in the People’s Republic don’t have democracy or the ability to go to bed at night without being watched by the government, so we’ll let them have this one!

If I mysteriously disappear, you know I’ve been dragged off to the Big Laogai – teehee!

Rock, rock, rockin’ on heaven’s door

Amidst the island of misfit toys that was my youth, only one person was there for me through the really dark times; Gordon. Whenever my dysfunctional home life became too much, Gordon and I would hide away out of sight, dreaming of all the slot cars and Barbie dolls we so dearly wanted but knew we would never own.

More than anything, we yearned for a rocking horse. Oh, how easy things would be, sitting astride a wooden pony, swinging back and forth, galloping away from life’s complexities.

Come Christmas morn each year we would emerge from our bedroom, eyes full of hope, and timidly tiptoe towards the pile of cheerfully-wrapped gifts placed ‘neath the glittering tree.

And each Christmas morn our little hearts would break as the pile shrank, the other family members laughing and smiling as they tore open their treats. But there would be no holiday cheer for Gordon or I. No Thunderloop Thriller. No Peaches ‘n’ Cream Barbie. Certainly no periwinkle rocking horse with lime green tassels. Just jeers and torment from my uncles and grandparents.

“Maybe next year,” Gordon would say, a tear in his eye

But the rocking horse never came and we were dragged, kicking and screaming, into adulthood. Psychiatrists have pointed to those hellacious festive encounters as the catalyst for my litany of personality disorders. I prefer to think that it simply added a few stitches to the ritch tapestry that is Bigs Bardot.

So it was with hearts aflutter that Gordon and I rolled into Gumeracha in the Bigsmobile and then stepped, blinking, into the crisp country air.

The Big Rocking Horse was more than we could have imaged; more than we dared hope for. His magnitude beggars belief, his majesty is all-consuming. Gordon, understandably, was reduced to a blubbering mess. We stood, clutching each other as we had all those years ago, and soaked in the majesty of the moment. For one sun-dappled afternoon, we found our lost childhood.

“Looks like we finally got that rocking horse, buddy,” Gordon finally said, his voice cracking under the weight of the situation.
“Sometimes,” I trembled, “stories do have happy endings. I love you, Gordon.”
“I love you too, Bigs.” We walked, hands clasped together, to the top of the enormous horse, and stood there for the longest time in complete silence. Gordon flashed a bittersweet smile and put one furry arm across my shoulder.

“Come on, dry your eyes and let’s go get something to eat,” he posited. “I know a place in Cudlee Creek that makes the world’s best jalapeño poppers.”
“Lead the way my brother,” I grinned, taking one last look back at The Big Rocking Horse, “lead the way.”

December 15, 2023
The Big Cherries, Pages Flat, SA

For a cherryfic experience that’ll really cherry you up, head out to Pages Flat to see the cherrybly handsome Big Cherries. Plump, sweet and oh-so-juicy, these are two of the most cherrysmatic Bigs you’ll ever meet – and I’m not just being cherrytable when I say that.

The Big Cherries sit atop a rustic wagon in front of Fleurieu Cherries, which is just 45 minutes from the centre of Adelaide (although it might take a bit longer if you travel by horse and cherryot). You should cherrysh the opportunity to fully explore this very incherryesting facility.

There’s a shop, reception area, and the encherryanting opportunity to pluck your own farm-fresh fruit. Concherry to popular belief, it’s not a cherrybly expensive activity; at $17 a kilo it’s perfect for those with budgetcherry concerns

Don’t cherry your head in the sand, because you might not get a second bite of the cherry!

Although, if this has piqued your cherryosity, you might want to visit other Big Cherries. There’s a lovely bunch in Young, and the legendcherry sunglasses-wearing Cherry in Wyuna. With so many options, you might have to cherry-pick which ones you want to see – although I’m a cherryleader for all of them!

You got the way to move me, Cherries
You got the way to groove me

Sadly, whilst The Big Cherries remained on their wagon during our visit, Gordon well and truly fell off his. After an extraordicherry afternoon spent exploring the sprawling meadows of the Fleurieu Peninsula, the little alien stumbled upon a wedding between two lovely chaps, Brett and Nyoman, where he overindulged on a bottle of the seasonally-available cherry Moscato.

Gordon’s drunken shenanigans did little to endear him to the congregation, which included pop singer Eagle-Eye Cherry, screenwriter Cherry Chevapravatdumrong and rugby league heartthrob Daly Cherry-Evans.

The surviving members of Warrant were so appalled that they were barely able to make it through a rousing rendition of their seminal 1989 hit Cherry Pie.

After a momencherry lapse of reason in which he passed inappropriate commencherry about the grooms’ wardrobe choices and started a fight with a flower girl, Gordon was, mercifully, escorted from the premises by a couple of burly farmhands.

He was cherry embarrassed by his behaviour the next day!

August 5, 2023
Scotty the Big Scotsman, Adelaide, SA

What’s beneath a Scotsman’s kilt? Head to Scotty’s Motel, in the northern Adelaide suburb of Medindie, to find out. There’ll you’ll encounter the five-metre-tall Big Scotsman, who makes up for his lack of trousers by having a truly remarkable story to tell.

Scotty, as he’s known to his clan of admirers, is a beloved citizen of the city and a must-see tourist attraction. Brimming with old-world charm and quirky effervescence, he’s sure to melt your heart. Sure, he can be tricky to take a snap with due to the hordes of cars that crawl past day and night, but he’s worth it. Oh, is Scotty worth it!

Despite scarcely looking a day over 21, this handsome highlander holds a tenuous claim to being the very oldest of the Bigs. Scotty first blew his bagpipes in 1963, the same year as Ploddy the Dinosaur was revealed to a curious public and 12 months before the owners of The Big Banana jumped on the Big Thing bandwagon.

Who came first, the Scotsman or the Diplodocus? It’s a question that’s caused heated debate between South Australians and New South Welshpeople for generations. Plod-Plod is a few months older, but don’t tell fans of this haggis-fuelled heartthrob – they’ll tartan feather me!

Now, join me in a journey back in time, to discover the legacy of this trailblazing Big. Oh, and I might be kilty of peeking betwixt Scotty’s muscular legs, but I swear it was only for research purposes – teehee!

The Scotland Down Under

Adelaide was a very different place back in the early-60s. Long before emerging as a cosmopolitan oasis with a thriving arts scene, there wasn’t a single overside roadside attraction to be found. It was a dark time, an uncouth time, but the winds of change were beginning to blow.

When budding entrepreneur Tommy Meiken was designing his minimalist motel on the fringe of the CBD, he wanted something BIG to make it stand out from the pack. The answer, after a Scotch-fuelled brainstorming session, was obvious – a Scotsman of epic proportions who would lurk atop the front door, beckoning weary travellers inside.

Come for the giant European gentleman with the wispy moustache, stay for the moderately comfortable beds and à la carte breakfast, you know how it works.

After an exhaustive interview process, Paul Kelly – no, not the popstar! – was chosen for the job. Despite being a successful artist, a manufacturing a monstrous Scotsman was a sporran concept to Paul. Modelling the sculpture on a particularly robust chum, he built Scotty in three pieces over the course of several very special months.

“People thought I was mad and I thought, ‘Oh, no, bugger it all. I’ll do it’,” chuckled Paul, who is obviously a Glasgow-half-full kinda guy. “I took up the challenge and it worked.”

The results were astonishing. Simple one-bedroom rooms, priced at hundreds of dollars per night, were booked out months in advance. South Australia’s glitterati mingled with international celebrities – including that other famous Scotsman, Sean Connery – by the swimming pool. The motel had been transformed into a veritable Garden of Edinburgh.

Soon Adelaide would welcome The Big Pigeon and The Big Hills Hoist, cementing her place at the apex of world culture.

And then darkness descended upon this part of the world.

Nightmare in Adelaide

Thursday, January 20, 2022, is a day that that no South Australian will ever forget. Daybreak painted the summer sky an intoxicating tapestry of pinks and purples, but also illuminated a scene so ghastly, so vile, that it caused grown men to fall to their knees in a cascade of tears.

Bloodthirsty thugs, intent on destroying all that’s good and pure in the world, had attached a set of googly eyes to Scotty’s face. The city, and its most beloved resident, had lost their innocence.

Scotty’s Motel manager Greg Hobson witnessed a gang of four men and one woman using a cherry picker under cover of darkness to commit the hate crime. Understandably, he was too terrified to approach the goons.

“What started as a light-hearted prank has turned slightly more serious as poor old Scotty has sustained some damage,” Greg wept. “His sporran appears to be quite loose and there appears to be some damage to the side panels.”

The proud Scotsman, who had endured so much, had suffered a near-fatal 1.5-metre tear down his left leg. There was even talk, in hushed tones, of an amputation.

“He’s sustained a lot of pranks over the years, but this is probably the most damaging one we’ve had so far,” Greg continued. “He’s such an icon. It’s going to be quite upsetting to a lot of people that he’s been hurt in the process.”

The lunatics responsible were later revealed to be a couple of useless shock jocks named Liam and Ben, who immediately went into hiding.

In times of yore, it was common for the adversaries of highlanders to be hung, drawn and quartered for their misdeeds. That’s a fate too good for the punks responsible, but don’t worry. The locals have a way of dealing with such matters 😉

Scotty doesn’t know, but Scotty has to go

Scotty’s endured more than any Big ever should, but he may succumb to the inevitable march of progress and our unquenchable thirst for overpriced inner-city tenements. The hotel is likely to be bulldozed, so Scotty’s looking for a new home.

The motel’s owner, Yanka Shopov, is determined to do all she can to keep this little slice of Australiana alive.

“People love it,” Yanka told a perplexed reporter from the BBC. “Years ago I remember little kids used to cry if we were booked out and they wanted to sleep under the Scotsman. But the thing is he is very expensive. He is exposed to the weather day and night and it costs $7,000 to $9,000 to have him painted. It’s not cheap but he draws attention to the business here.”

Ms Shapov, a kind-hearted woman and one of the most gregarious hosts one could ever wish to meet, has intimated that she’s willing to donate Scotty to the History Trust of South Australia should he be forced from his longtime home.

They can take our lives, but they will never take our BIG SCOTSMAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

July 29, 2023
The Big Hills Hoist, O’Sullivan Beach, SA

A woman’s work is never done, but a clothesline this size certainly makes things easier! Hills Hoists – a type of spinning, adjustable contraption for drying tunics and underpants – are ubiquitous throughout Australia and an integral part of the country’s cultural psyche. That makes them a perfect candidate for getting the Bigs treatment!

For decades Hills Hoists were manufactured in the beachside suburb of O’Sullivan Beach, half-an-hour south of Adelaide. As the legend goes, one bright afternoon an apprentice mixed up his metrics and imperial measurements and knocked together a clothesline of epic proportions. Hopefully his superiors didn’t hang him out to dry!

The wonderful washing line was popped on permanent display in the workshop’s car park, as a tribute to the ingenuity of South Australians. Apparently it proved particularly popular for Goon of Fortune at work Christmas parties – although nobody seems to remember much about them.

The factory was shuttered in 2019 and production of these Aussie icons relocated to China. Oh well, I guess they need somewhere to hang their Mao suits and his-and-hers matching panda T-shirts.

The boys from Orrcon Steel moved in shortly afterwards, and currently spend their smoke breaks gazing in open-mouthed wonder at the Big Hills Hoist. Whilst somewhat dilapidated these days, it can be admired through a chainlink fence, leading to a similarly disengaged experience to visiting The Big Orange.

Just don’t get too close – as I was posing for these photos a burly foreman stormed over and offered me a job. Imagine that, the inimitable Bigs Bardot working in a steel factory!

When it comes to manual labour, I’m every bit a 50s housewife.

The Hoistus with the moistus

As the crisp South Australian afternoon drew to a close, a furry little hand slapped me on my bottom. I turned, shocked, to see a hairy alien leering at me beneath the towering Hills Hoist.

“Hey toots,” Gordon slurred, taking another gulp from his canister of Emu Bitter. “When you’re finished hanging out my work shirts, get inside and make me a birria and roast duck quesadilla. And snap to it, babydoll, the fellas are comin’ round soon to watch the footy.”

Shocked by his repulsive display of toxic masculinity, I dropped my washing basket and slapped Gordon across his ruggedly handsome face.

“How very dare you,” I snapped. “Whilst there is something wholesome and nostalgic about regressing to stereotypically gendered domestic mantles, the manner in which you’ve conducted yourself only serves to derail the non-binary movement and blockade the discourse required to move forward as a more welcoming society. Put your manners back in.”

The tears in Gordon’s chocolatey eyes said it all. His muscular shoulders slumped. He cradled his head in his hands. He wept openly. A small group of steel workers, sweat dripping down their robust torsos, surrounded us, ensuring I was alright and threatening Gordon with a severe beating should he continue on his rocky trail of domestic abuse.

“Bigs,” he sniffed. “I was so overcome by the sentimental, whimsical nature of The Big Hills Hoist that I regressed to a cliched and, frankly, rather insulting stereotype of a 1950s alpha male. My own ego impacted your happiness, your sense of worth, and for that I am deeply apologetic. I love, respect and support you.”

The petite alien and I embraced, as silvery tears drew pale white streaks down grimy steel workers’ cheeks.

Clothes encounters of the third line

“You’re forgiven, Gordon, and I understand what you’re dealing with,” I purred, ruffling his hair. “I did, after all, sport a kilt and bagpipes for several weeks after interacting with Scotty the Big Scotsman. And I was inspired to swim through the ocean as a crustacean after a date with The Big Lobster. We’ve all been there.”

The steel workers, each reduced to a blubbering mess, carried themselves back to the foundry. Each would remark later that they’d finally discovered the true meaning of love and dignity. And it all happened in the shadows of The Big Hills Hoist.

Gordon, tired yet happy, held the door of the Bigsmobile open for me, then we rolled off into the Adelaide Hills.

“But, seriously,” he yawned, stroking my hand, “I would like that birria and roast duck quesadilla, please. As long as I can help you cook it.”

“With extra cilantro?”

“With extra cilantro.”

May 19, 2023
The Big Pigeon, Adelaide, SA

Trundle down Rundle Mall any day of the beak, and you’ll flappen upon the peck-tacular Big Pigeon. The elegant, mirrored bird was lovingly crafted by local artist Paul Sloan and strutted into town in late-2020. Adelaidians, not surprising, have been cooing and ahhing at him ever since.

Despite his flashy looks, he’s a bashful chap and the epitome of the boy nest door. The Big Pigeon cost a very reasonable $174,000, which begs the question of why the local council haven’t created an entire flock of delightfully large birds.

Sublimely melding the cheeky nature of pigeons with the confrontingly angular architecture Adelaide’s famous for, he demands passersby pause for a moment of quiet reflection amongst the hustle and bustle of this burgeoning world city.

A little bird told me that Paul Sloan’s lifelong fascination for pigeons inspired his genre-defying steel masterpiece – which is a feather in his cap as far as I’m concerned.

“I see pigeons as proud flaneurs, promenading through our leisure and retail precincts,” the virtuoso pontificated. “They are the quiet witnesses of our day-to-day activities in the city, our observers from day through to night.”

Thank you, Paul Sloan, for allowing me to have a birds-eye view of your passion project.

Birds of a feather go BIG together

Widely regarded as the most handsome chap in Adelaide (quite a feat considering that Scotty the Big Scotsman is just up the road), The Big Pigeon isn’t completely u-beak. He’s a dead winger for an equally-dovely feathered friend in Blackpool, England – Big Bird.

You might say that I’m obsessed with oversized representations of this particular breed of bird, but that’s not true! I’ve also had dalliances with The Big Kookaburra, The Big Chook, The Big Parrot and Chinute Chinute.

Then there’s Katey Seagull, Stanley the Emu, the Big Eagle and Charlie.

And Bruno. And The Big Galahs. Oh, and the deceptively nimble Chickaletta.

Feeling sweet? Then fall in loooove with the The Big Honeyeater! Wanna cash some cans at the same time? The Big Bowerbird is for you!

Let’s not forget The Big Pelican in Loxton! And Pelican Pete in Noosaville!

Aaaand the incomparable, transcendent, utterly sublime Big Penguin!

So don’t pigeonhole me, buddy!

What’s dong with people these days?

Trigger warning: The following passage contains graphic depictions of pigeon abuse and general naughtiness. As Land of the Bigs is a family website, I implore you to cover your little one’s eyes before delving any further. You’re welcome.

The brave, regal Big Pigeon is a shining symbol of everything magical and innocent and proud and wonderful that Adelaide has to offer. That didn’t stop him, however, from running afowl of a depraved pervert with a massive pecker.

The lunatic – probably high on cheap lollies and red cordial and without a pigeon of concern for the public’s wellbeing – attached what is commonly known as a ‘dildo’ to the front of the gentle fellow. This contraption, which apparently takes the form of a frighteningly-accurate representation of male genitalia, seems to have been placed there as a lark. You could’ve knocked me down with a feather when I found out!

So enraged were the people of Adelaide that they rioted through the streets for several weeks hence, looking to capture the cretin responsible and toss him, squealing like the pig he was, into the River Torrens. Pigeon Lives Matter, you know!

I’m going to remain tight-beaked about whether I was involved in the sicko’s disappearance, but let’s just say there are plenty of barrels to pop a pigeon molester into – teehee!

Oh, and if you’re looking for the dildo, it’s long since been removed. It’s not in any of the bins around Rundle Mall, it hasn’t been tossed into any bushes, and none of the shopkeepers know where it ended up. Trust me, I asked.

May 19, 2023
The Big Apple, Balhannah, SA

She’s plump, juicy and oh so delicious – but enough about me, the inimitable Bigs Bardot! We’re here to celebrate the scrumptious Big Apple, who sits regally above The Olde Apple Shed, high in the Adelaide Hills.

This ruby-red rascal is the pride of Balhannah, and boasts a rustic charm just as dainty delicacies she promotes. Stop by for a memorable photo that’s sure to set your socials aflame, then treat yourself to the legendary rhubarb and apple crumble, paired with a decadent dollop of cream.

If you’re feeling extra naughty, try the freshly-baked shortbread, smeared with some zesty Adelaide marmalade – go on, I won’t tell anyone!

The Big Apple has become a real peeler of the community over the years, and I must admit to being cored off-guard by her immense girth. What can I say, it’s not every day I meet some as fruity as moi!

Don’t you think I look wonderful be-cider? I’d like to say I’m the prettiest Pink Lady in Balhannah, although that might upset the apple cart!

OK, she might not be as famous as some of South Australia’s other Bigs but, really, that’s like comparing apples and oranges! I really should stop with all the apple puns… orchard I?

How ’bout them apples!

Grand Granny Smiths, really large Royal Galas and supersized Sundowners can be found the length and breadth of this wide, brown land (of the Bigs). There’s an apple in Yerrinbool, another apple in Tallong, and a really cute apple in Darkes Forest that’s almost as gorgeous as me… almost!

There’s an awe-inspiring Red Delicious inside the Bilpin Fruit Bowl and, if you prefer your maças wrapped tenderly in flaky pastry, the Big Apple Pie just down the road. The highest concentration of Big Apples is, undoubtedly, in Batlow, where there are Big Things apple-enty!

For those willing to take a salacious bite from a forbidden fruit, The Big Apple in Acacia Ridge is home to a fairly seedy adult shop. If that sort of smut a-peels to you, I don’t know what you’re doing on a wholesome website such as this.

All are equally tasty, so I guess the Big Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree!

April 18, 2023