Long before the age of Bananas, Penguins, Pineapples and Prawns, an enormous concrete dinosaur watched over Australia’s highways. Ploddy, the oldest of her kind and the grandmother of the Bigs, was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before.
With her timeless beauty and vivacious personality she ushered in the era of massive roadside attractions, becoming a national celebrity in the process. However, like the ancient thunder lizards she was modelled after, extinction is on the horizon for this gentle giant.
Despite her proud history, this folk hero has been abandoned in the bush, locked away behind a gnarled barbed-wire fence and left to rot. It’s a tragic and shameful situation for the mellow yellow lady, who’s terribly lonely out there in the wilderness.
This, dear readers, is the tragic tale of Ploddy the Dinosaur.
Do-you-think-she-saurus?
Ploddy’s epic story begins in the halcyon days of 1963, when hair was long and short-shorts were super short. Eric Worrell, owner of the popular Australian Reptile Park in Wyoming, New South Wales, was looking for a way to draw in more visitors from the Pacific Highway – and the common worm-skinks just weren’t doing the job. That’s when he had a BIG IDEA.
What if he built a life-size dinosaur and plonked it out by the main road? The plan was as preposterous as it was brilliant. Although Grrrreta the Grrrreat Big Dinosaur was wowing the crowds over in America, nothing of the sort had ever been attempted in this country. Undeterred, Eric and his chums got to work, largely making it up as they went.
The project took just two months for Eric’s talented team, including designer Ken Mayfield and construction engineer Jim Sullivan, to complete. Not bad for a diplodo-custom made dinosaur!
At 26-metres-long and weighing 100 tonnes, Ploddy was unlike anything the good people of the Central Coast seen before. She ushered in a new era of prosperity to the park, drawing in tens of thousands of curious onlookers who just wanted to say ‘allo-saurus to the Central Coast’s largest resident.
Ploddy was the first Big Thing Aussie’s ever dino-saw. So why is she so close to being wiped off the face of the planet?
Plodding into our hearts
The inimitable Bigs Bardot moved into the adjacent caravan park with his family in the mid-80s, and it was love at first sight – even though I was a little intimidated by Ploddy at first. Whenever things became too brutal in the trailer, I’d sneak over to see my massive mate. As I nestled into her serpentine neck, everything seemed right in the world.
In those days she was easily accessible and it was even possible to climb on top of or inside her, and she was always willing to listen to my problems. Ploddy told me there was a vast world out there, full of giant icons just like her. I promised her that I would visit every single one of her friends, and I take that vow seriously.
Ploddy was something of a chameleon, changing colours often, and as a rebellious youth I would dye my hair to match. We were inseparable, so I was understandably heartbroken when she took me aside one windswept day in 1994 to let me know she was moving away forever.
After 33 years in Wyoming, the Reptile Park’s new owners, John and Robyn Weigel, were taking the cold-blooded cutie and the rest of the reptiles to a new location at Somersby. It took two years to fossil-itate, and I spent as much time with Ploddy as I could, but things weren’t the same. A sadness hung over our rendezvous, and I even flirted with other Bigs such as the Merino, Oyster, and the man who would go on to become the other great love of my life, The Big Avocado.
What can I say? I was just love Jura-sick!
Movin’ on up
When Ploddy finally made her move on a stormy day in 1996, thousands of people lined the streets of Gosford to bid her farewell. I was in tears, not only to lose my best chum, but because they cut Ploddy’s poor feet and tail off to remove her from the concrete platform she guarded for so many years. It took Gosford’s largest crane to place her onto Gosford’s largest truck, and I marched proudly, but with a heavy heart, alongside her through the adoring crowds.
It was the greatest party Gosford had ever seen but, once the celebrations faded away, the tragedy of Ploddy’s situation became apparent. She wasn’t planted at the entrance of the new Reptile Park; that honour was bestowed upon Frilly the Lizard, with Ploddy tossed into a dusty clearing several hundred metres away.
She could watch the cars zip by on the new Pacific Highway, of course, but her friends had no real way of getting up close and personal with her. Ploddy was no longer able to serve her purpose as a Big Thing – she was a glorified billboard, locked away behind a fence and at the mercy of the elements. When the wind blew just right on a clear night, I could hear her weeping all the way from Wyoming.
Perhaps, I thought, she could also hear my cries.
The Lizard of Oz
Ploddy’s the oldest of the Big Things, an important part of Australia’s history and culture, and for her to be treated like this is nothing short of disgraceful. Whilst the Big Banana, Big Boxing Crocodile and even Ploddy’s little brother Big Kev and niece Digby have people lined up to take photos with them, pouring millions of dollars into their local communities, this grand old dame of roadside attractions has been cast aside, with only a few hardy souls visiting her. It’s outrageous and the good folks at the Australian Reptile Park need to do something about it.
Mercifully it’s still possible to see Ploddy, if you’re up for an adventure. The best way is to park by the side of the Old Pacific Highway at Somersby and locate the steep, overgrown path heading north towards the sizeable sauropod.
It’s not for the faint of heart, small children or the elderly, but those who brave the 100-metre climb will be rewarded by a meeting with the graceful Queen of the Bigs. It’s a bit like visiting my stepdad Craig in jail, though, due to the chainlink fence and the sour stench of desperation.
Until then, Ploddy’s true friends will visit her, chat to her, reassure her that everything will be OK. We’ll hold back the tears and pretend to believe our words, then fall apart as we walk away. This site, my life, and the passion that beats through the heart of every Big-thusiast, exist because of the incomparable Ploddy the Big Dinosaur. My first love, my purest love.
