Meet Paul. He’s an outdoorsy, approachable fellow who enjoys artisanal pale ales, daring facial hair and the smell of fresh flannelette in the morning. Oh, and he’s also a 31-foot-tall giant who brandishes a monstrous axe with which to protect the good people of the Pacific North West.
All together now; “Hi, Paul!”
The mythical Mr Bunyan is a hero to people across America and Canada, and his lumberjacking exploits have entered the realm of folklore. Together with his offsider Babe the Blue Ox, the wondrous woodsman is said to have cleared entire regions of trees in the most deplorable of conditions.
I’m going to assume he doesn’t swap Christmas cards with too many environmentalists, then.
Paul’s hardworking attitude and no-nonsense fashion style epitomise this stunning part of the world, and no visit to Oregon’s emerald hills is complete without seeing this enormous tribute to the hirsute heartbreaker.
Paul’s a lumberjack and he’s OK
Not surprisingly, there are dozens of Paul Bunyan statues scattered around North America. Rest assured, however, that this depiction of the big fella really is Bun in a million.
The larger-than-life lumberjack was designed and installed by the Kenton Businessmen’s Club, taking pride of place in North Portland in 1959. He was unveiled to much fanfare as the centrepiece of Oregon’s centennial celebrations, and was apparently the subject of much attention from the port city’s single ladies.
This handsome chap can be intimidating due to his immense size, but he’s a warm-hearted individual who greets thousands of Oregonians with a cheery smile each morning. I must admit I was in awe when I first saw him from a distance, peering through Portland’s leafy avenues.
Who wouldn’t want to wake up to that smile!
Even after visiting hundreds of humongous humanoids such as Big Joe and Wo-Man and The Big Gold Panner Man and Ernie and The Storyteller and The Big Knight and The Hardware Man and The Water Giver and The Big Girl and King Kamehameha and The Cootamundra Giant and the nearby Harvey the Half-Human-Half-Rabbit over the years, Paul’s scale was enough to take my breath away.
What can I say, I have a thing for tall guys!
If there’s something strange in your neighborhood
Who you gonna call? Paul Bunyan!
Portland’s in the grip of a disturbing rise in homelessness and crime at the moment, and sadly the area surrounding Paul can be a little dangerous. Be careful, because nothing ruins a date with a Big Thing like being violently robbed of your iPod Nano.
When an unkempt dude in torn jeans and a filthy band t-shirt – who was either a crack-addled lunatic or a tech startup millionaire, it’s hard to tell them apart – stumbled over to scream obscenities during my photo shoot with Paul, everything told me to flee in tears.
Instead I stood my ground, adjusted my scarlet tunic, and stared the fiend straight in the eyes.
“Babe, if you’ve got a problem with me, you’ve got a problem with him,” I purred, as my bearded bodyguard peered over my shoulder. The street urchin looked at Paul with such reverence, such child-like wonder, that I clasped him to my bosom and assured him everything would be alright.
Of course, when I swaggered off I realised he’d fleeced me of a crisp $20 bill and a collection of James Joyce short stories I’d been pretentiously reading in a coffee shop and had subsequently tucked safely in my back pocket.
Oh well, it was a small price to pay for the honour of meeting Paul Bunyan!
