She’s a sexy humpback Them other Bigs don’t know how to act I think she’s special, what a large humpback! Go visit Nala and don’t forget a snack
Have a whale of a time and a blowhole lot of fun with Nala, the 22-tonne pride of Hervey Bay! The town is one of the best places on Earth for whale watching, but now you don’t need to risk a bout of sea sickness to admire a massive mammal.
Nala was introduced to the communi-sea in 2012 to much finfare, with hundreds of whale-wishers blubbering with delight at her grand un-whaling. She’s a heartfelt tribute to her namesake, a much-loved whale who’s visited the region every year since 1992.
The big bopper has to be marine to be believed, and wouldn’t look out of place at the Louvre or Guggenheim museums – if she’d fit! Just look at those intricate wooden details and all that shiny metal! I almost felt like I should’ve worn a tuxedo for our date!
Ross Bradbury built the 11.5 metre-long, 8.3 metre-tall leviathan out of ironbark timber and stainless steel, and reckons he spent more than 250 hours on the carving alone. He’s also the virtuoso behind Nala’s son Nolan, a smaller whale who lives at the neighbouring WetSide Water Park.
“I feel really lucky to be a part of it,” Ross whaled to a bemused journo from the Courier Whale… oh, sorry, the Courier Mail.
If you’re planning to get spout-and-about, the good news is you don’t have to pay to see Nala – that’s right, a visit is free, Willy!
Many thanks to local fisherman and lifelong Big Thing admirerDickie Ham, who acted as my tour guide. He’s a perfect gentleman and quite the twinkle toes. Who would’ve though Hervey Bay would have such a vibrant salsa scene?
He’s absolutely mango-nificent, but this tropical treat has flirted with scandal to become one of the most controversial Bigs around. The Big Mango, who lives beside the Visitor Information Centre, stands a regal 10 metres tall and was erected in 2002 as a tribute to Bowen’s ebullient agricultural industry.
He cost $90,000, weighs in at seven tonnes, and is modelled after the delicious Kensington Pride variety of mangoes. Yum, yum, yum – he’s just fruit-iful! So how did it mango so wrong?
It was a case of Bowen, goin’ gone when the Mango mysteriously disappeared one dreary day in February 2014. Horrified locals woke up with a mango-sized hole in their hearts amid reports a group of spiteful hooligans had loaded the Mango onto a truck during the night. The story hit the headlines around the world, search parties were formed, and a nation sat silently by their telephones, mouths agape, praying for good news.
Where did he man-go?
Was it Al-Quaeda, intent on toppling the West by Big-napping all our wonderful roadside attractions? Or maybe diehard fans of the Big Watermelon, whipped into a fury due to their martyr being overshadowed by a newer and hipper Big? Or perhaps the Big Pineapple, Big Banana and Big Strawberry would be next, to create an even larger Big Fruit Bowl?
But a few things didn’t add up. Firstly, pinching a house-sized fiberglass mango is a little harder than swiping a fistful of grapes from Bowen Woolworths (which isn’t difficult at all, to be honest). Secondly, the Information Centre failed to report the theft to police, instead going straight to the media. And then there were the sightings of enormous mangoes around the country, including one in the main street of Melbourne, some 2,500km away. What was mangoing on?
When the Big Mango was discovered by astonished locals in a field out the back of Bowen, covered by palm fronds, the game was up and the story began to unravel.
The nightmare unravels
“There’s an old road that leads up into the scrub from the back of the information centre,” appalled Mango devotee ‘Bob’ told ABC Radio. “What they’ve done is put it on a truck and taken it up there and laid it on its side in the bush, and they’ve covered it up with tree branches and shade cloths so nobody can see it. It’s a pretty hard thing to hide.”
As Big-thusiasts from across the globe descended upon North Queensland hold a vigil by the globular giant’s side, Portuguese chicken ‘restaurant’ Nando’s came forward and took responsibility for the sickening stunt. Apparently it was all to promote a new mango chutney or something, but who cares, I’ll never step foot in one of their slop shacks after this ghastly deed. Some blame also rests on the local council because it takes two to mango.
“The disappearance of Bowen’s Big Mango has generated quite a lot of attention over the last day or so and we confess… Nando’s was behind moving the three-storey high, ten tonne tourist attraction,” a deranged media release, obviously penned by a lunatic, said. “Nando’s would like to thank the people of Bowen for being good sports about us ‘borrowing’ their beautiful mango.” I’ve read more charming ransom letters.
Such exploitation of a beautiful Big is completely unacceptable, and for the past seven years I’ve campaigned for all involved with Nando’s – from the owner of the company to the bloke who takes out the garbage – to be jailed for crimes against huge-anity.
Things are Bowen to get better
But, thankfully, some good has come from this nightmare. A slightly smaller, six-metre-tall replica of the Mango was shipped around Australia for publicity purposes, before being donated to the good people of Bowen. Small compensation for the trauma they suffered, yes, but it makes a great memorial to these tragic events.
As I was admiring the marvellous mango, I encountered a handsome young gentleman named António who initially enthralled me with his good looks and jocular personality. I was, however, disgusted when he started taking some racy photos with Bowen’s Finest. My patience reached its limit when I discovered he was Portuguese, and almost certainly planning a second coup against this Australian icon.
I trotted straight down to the nearest pub and alerted a few local tough guys as to what was going on, and they wasted no time delivering a severe beating to the perverted playboy. I don’t regret what I did for one minute.
Today the Big Mango sits peacefully in the sun, reflecting on his wild ride and enjoying his infamy. Hopefully they have a full-time security guard watching him, because another kidnapping could make a mango crazy!
For an unforgetta-bull experience, head to Rocky, where you’ll find multi-bull bulky bovines on display. All six Big Bulls have moo-vie star good looks and would love to meat you, so it’d be a mi-steak to miss them!
The first two Bulls – a Braford by the Bruce Highway and a Brahman located on the main median strip in town – were con-chuck-ted in 1978 as a way to beef up tourism. They were designed by Hugh Granderson… sorry, Anderson, the legend behind the Big Cow, and the townsfolk were very shankful to have them.
Udder-standably they proved so irresisti-bull that they were joined by a Santa Gertrudis in Frank Ford Park in 1985, and a Droughtmaster at the entrance to the airport in 1994. Rookie error, Rocky Council – if there’s a Big Thing by the airport, people will never want to leave!
Public demand saw the Fab Four joined by a Romangnola, located in O’Shannesy Park, in 1997, and another Brahman – known as Forrest Rump – swaggered into Rockhampton in 2000 and set up camp at the roundabout on the southern entrance to the city. It sounds like a cock-and-bull story, but it’s true!
Although they seem like typically ‘ocker’ fellas, the boys do, in fact, have an American cousin. Chromey, a bison of epic proportions, lives in Colorado. Say buff-hello to him if you’re nearby.
I had plenty of fun exploring the sultry city of Rocky, which straddles the Tropic of Capri-horn, seeking out the Big Bulls. Sure, they’re not enormous, but they’re all very handsome and their sheer number makes them a must-see. But I guess you’ve already herd that!
Please leave their balls alone!
Unfortunately they also attract the dregs of society, with local troublemakers finding amusement in stealing the Bulls’ bulbous balls. This behaviour is reprehensi-bull, but we can console ourselves with the knowledge these ruffians will probably spend the rest of their lives in prison where there are few, if any, Big Things.
It was my displeasure to meet one of these deranged imbeciles in the form of a Portuguese backpacker named António. Whilst seemingly gorgeous and charming at first glance, this pervert showed his true colours by stripping off in front of the Bulls and gyrating provocatively for photos. Dispica-bull!
Thankfully a hurried call the the local consta-bull-ary saw António deported for his outrageous display of disrespect, and he’s Portugal’s problem now. I’ve spoken with Australian Immigration Minister and Big Thing sympathiser Alex Hawke at length about the situation, and he has assured me that António’s been banned from Australia for-heifer.
Sorry to turn this into the punning of the bulls with all these terri-bull jokes!
“Bigs,” I’m sure you’re screaming, “the Big Rig – despite standing 140 metres tall and being an icon of the Maranoa Region – isn’t a Big Thing at all! He’s an actual oil drilling rig from the 1960s who was relocated to the centre of Roma in 2000 to attract tourists. If you’re going to include him, you might as well open the flood gates and induct large trucks, jumbo jets, wide-screen TVs and basketball players. Where does it stop, Bigs, where does it stop?”
I share your concern and trust me, writing this entry was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I’ve taken to the streets to protest claims the Big Banana is the oldest of the Bigs and waged bloody battles against those who won’t accept that the Big Bogan nothing more than a billboard due to being two-dimensional. He’s a sign, deal with it.
Though not proud of it, I was arrested after an online discussion regarding Singleton’s Big Sundial turned nasty. Sundials can be any size, so a particularly large one isn’t a Big! But the Big Rig’s different.
Unless you’ve clasped a Romanian farmer in your arms, his eyes welling with tears as he sobs that the Big Rig was the only thing that kept him going through years of drought; Until you’ve held the hand of a grandmother who only gets out of bed in the morning for the chance to worship the Big Rig; you don’t know how much this Big Thing means to the people of Roma. And I can’t take this away from them.
And I guess the statue of major miner John Machado is pretty large.
Rig-iculously large
So important is the Big Rig to this proud outback community that they’re currently spending a couple of million dollars to add an observation tower to the surrounding complex. It’ll offer sweeping views of the Big Rig, mining museum, the sweeping new tree walk exhibit… and the sunkissed desert as well, I assume.
If they build it big enough, you might even be able to see the Big Melon and the Big Sunflowers. It’ll be a drill-a-minute experience!
Yes, this might come as a shock, but some things are more important than the strict guidelines regarding what does and does not constitute a Big Thing. Roma’s Big Rig, by entrenching himself as the beating heart of this rural community, has earned his place in the pantheon of oversized roadside attractions. He’s Big. He’s beautiful. He’s a Thing.
Tilly bounced her way into our hearts during the 1982 Commonwealth Games, taking centre stage at the opening ceremony in front of 50,000 enamoured fans. The cute kangaroo flirted with the crowd, winking her long lashes and swivelling her perfectly-proportioned head as a forklift flittered her around the track.
The world drew breath as one when the voluptuous Matilda lingered in front of the Duke of Edinburgh for an extended moment and their eyes locked. Time stood still as we hoped and dreamed that this most unlikely relationship might take its first, tentative steps.
The silence, however, was broken when dozens of excited kiddies dressed as joeys poured out of Matilda’s massive pouch and jumped around on trampolines as Rolf Harris belted out the timeless classic Tie Me Kangaroo Down, Sport. It was a moment no Australian will ever forget.
I was one of those joeys, and I’ve never felt as alive as I did whilst crouched in the belly of that 13-metre-tall marsupial. I cherish my grainy first photo with Tilly, and my memories of playing with Rolf’s wobble board. After that magical afternoon our lives took such different paths – Rolf as a much-loved singer, me as Australia’s foremost expert in Big Things, and Tilly as a hero to Queenslanders of all ages.
Bounding into retirement
Following the Games she took pride of place at Cade’s County Waterpark on the Gold Coast, where she kept a watchful eye over swimmers until being dismantled in the mid-2000s. She lay sad and alone in a field until 2009, when the happy chappies from Puma Energy resurrected her as the mascot for their new chain of service stations.
Though she originally hoped to live in Tugan on the Gold Coast’s glitter strip, Tilly settled for a quieter life in Kybong after planning approval fell through. It’s probably for the best, because I would’ve hated to see her with collagen lips and a fake tan!
Tilly’s just as beautiful as ever and is in a great location for photos and hugs. She’s an inspiration for other former parade floats such as Buffy and Pete, but the service station she called home until recently had been bypassed by the Bruce Highway and fallen into disrepair. On my recent visit, a dog chased me – and he wasn’t as friendly as his golden relative down south! Fortunately Tilly’s no stranger to a life on the road, and was recently roo-located to the new super servo along the road. Phew!
How much is that Tilly in the window?
I’m not sure whether there are any Matilda souvenirs at her new home, but you might be able to buy something much better. No, not a tea towel – a nine-metre-tall replica of the lovely kangaroo from Natureworks in Highvale, Queensland! Slightly slimmer than the busty original, she can also turn her head and wink. There were plans to place replica kangaroos at hundreds of Matilda service stations around the country, but financial strife scuttled that and only one was ever built. My birthday’s coming up, in case my admirers want to pitch in for a present…
Sexy, sassy, survivor. From packed stadiums to water slides to abandoned petrol stations, Matilda has lived a remarkable life with the sort of class and grace others can only dream of. She’s every bit as seductive as the day we fell in love with her 39 years ago, and I wish her much hoppy-ness in the future.
Please note; since writing this article, it’s been brought to my attention that Rolf Harris has been convicted of serious crimes and is currently incarcerated. Whilst I’ll always love his music and consider him to be a visionary, Matilda and I have decided to remove Rolf from our WhatsApp group.
Please note 2; apparently Rolf has died, so let’s all just move on.
Cairo has the Pyramids, Paris has la tour Eiffel. Bundy has its own tribute to the culture of its people – this fantastic flagon of the good old fighting juice! The Big Rum Bottle wearily outside the Bundaberg Rum Distillery, which is a mecca for barflies Big Thing fanatics.
The rum-filled Romeo was constructed for World Expo ’88 in Brisbane. He overshadowed the futuristic monorail and the Nepalese Peace Pagoda, and shipped north shortly thereafter. He remains as popular as the booze he’s modelled after and welcomes a non-stop stream of devotees – some of whom even seem sober!
The distillery offers a tantalising variety of Bundy Rum memorabilia, although sadly nothing with the Big Rum Bottle on it. I had to visit the nearby Visitor Information Centre to buy my magnet. There’s a fascinating museum on site, and tours of the distillery are available, complete with generous tastings of the famous rum range.
But please, try not to go overboard, otherwise you’ll have an encounter with another Big Thing – the Big Hangover!
Like most icons, the Big Rum Bottle has plenty of copycats, including a doppelganger up the road in Rocky. There’s also Darrel the Barrel, who’s full the brim with the most scrumptious range of fizzy drinks you’ve ever seen – perfect for those who, like me, shy away from hard liquor.
Standing seven metres tall, the Big Rum Bottle is large enough to hold several thousand litres of hard liquor. Or enough to last your average Queenslander for about three days, tee-hee!
The good people of Bundy are so obsessed with ginger beer that a regular-sized barrel full of it could never satisfy them. So in 2005 they built the Big Barrel – lovingly referred to as Darrel by his swarm of admirers – in the middle of the city. This soft drink paradise is certainly sweet!
Darrel serves as a shrine to the region’s enviable fizzy drink pedigree, with everything from cola to lemonade on offer. For the curious, free tours of this Big Thing are available. I’m sure you’ll be as fascinated by the process behind crafting pink grapefruit sparkling water as I was. It’s certainly a brew-nique experience!
The Barrel is open seven days a week for your drinking pleasure. For those who spent all their time posing in front of darrel, takeaway six-packs are available to purchase.
Darrel is an alcohol-free barrel, so the nearby Big Bundy Bottle is the place for wallowing in intoxicated decadence. I must, however, confess to overindulging on the sarsaparilla. The alluring licorice aromas proved irresistible, and the resultant sugar high led to some particularly silly behaviour. I was sent barrelling towards self-destruction.
I was forcibly removed for starting a fist fight with another patron over his belief that the Big Banana is the oldest Big Thing in Australia. Whilst my opinion was completely correct and his was, to put it bluntly, foolish and ill-educated, I shouldn’t have caused such a scene. I’ll stick to sugar-free beverages in future.
Darrel may be only half a barrel, but he’s a whole lot of fun!
There was a time, long before the age of man, when enormous creatures roamed the wasteland we now call Australia. From Tiddalick the Frog to Biladurang the Platypus, these behemoths filled the rivers with water, shaped the mountain ranges, and cast the stars into the sky. Dreamtime stories, passed down through a thousand generations, keep the history of our homeland alive.
Gubulla Munda, a carpet snake of epic proportions, has been the protector of the Birri-Gubba people of North Queensland for millennia. Now he looks after the rest of us, too! This 60-metre-long totem was built in his honour in 2004, having been designed by local indigenous artists.
You’re unlikely to find a longer or lovelier Big Thing, or one with so much hisssss-tory behind him. I’ve met hundreds of Bigs around the world, but the sheer size of this gentleman brought me to my knees. Ironic, seeing as he doesn’t have any!
Gubulla looks absolutely wonderful, is well cared for and regularly repainted. The snake offers so many options for fun photos, because his friends are welcome to climb all over him. Just be respectful, not only because he’s a Big, but because of the cultural implications.
Love is in the Ayr
The Big Snake lives in a particularly happy corner of Queensland, which is full of good viper-ations. This cobra is a cutie and subsequently snakes any journey up north worth it.
After snapping off some photos, do take time to explore the surrounding Plantation Park before heading off to see the nearby Big Watermelon, Big Pumpkin and Big Sardine Can. The area has long been a sacred site and burial ground for the local indigenous population, and there are a number of commemorative plaques. There’s even a cafe where you can purchase a meat pie-thon.
An afternoon with Ayr’s Big Snake is time well serpent!
Victorian bushranger Ned Kelly is known for his handsome beard, wacky armour, and penchant for ruthlessly slaughtering innocent people. He is not, however, known for taking relaxing holidays in sunny Queensland. So how did this seven-metre-tall tribute end up in Maryborough? Your fearless reporter, Bigs Bardot, headed to the scene to find out!
My quest for the truth started by asking Ned himself, but the oversized outlaw wouldn’t snitch. He’s the strong, silent type, you see. The investigation continued inside the adjoining service station which does not, tragically, sell Big Ned memorabilia. The receptionist could only theorise that Ned might’ve been the original owner of the station. Nice guess, but unlikely.
A wild-eyed resident of the nearby Ned Kelly Motel stumbled over to breathlessly inform me that the Big Ned Kelly watches him in his sleep, at which point I decided to take my inquisition literally anywhere else. Even the lovely ladies at the Visitor Information Centre didn’t know why Ned was built – although they did admit to finding him cute. Oh, Ned, if you’re not stealing horses you’re stealing hearts!
Buckets of fun!
My research yielded little useful information. I did, however, get to spend the afternoon with a particularly impressive Big and foster some lifelong friendships with the locals. Unlike the slightly smaller Big Ned Kelly in Glenrowan – you know, the place where the real Ned was caught – it will probably never be known how and why this gentleman of the road came to be.
During an early meeting with Ned, I was outraged to discover a wasp next nestled in his crotch. Thankfully the little pricks have been removed, and this buckethead is safe to insect!
Maryborough really should be home to the Big Mary Poppins, because it’s the birthplace of the magical nanny’s creator, author P. L. Travers. Maybe they could pop a bonnet on Ned’s head, give him an umbrella, and call him Mary. How supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!
Have you heifer herd the udder-ly moo-diculous story about the two-story cow who become a Sunshine Coast icon, fell into a life of depravity, climbed out of the gutter to become a leader of the lost, and eventually retired to a leafy farm near beautiful Toowoomba? Yeah, I know it sounds like a load of bull, but be-hoove yourself because it’s true!
The Big Cow was calved in 1976 in the rural village of Kulangoor, just down the road from the incredible Big Pineapple. She was the feature attraction of a working dairy farm, where visitors were able to yank a bemused animal’s boobies when not climbing inside the belly of this Big. What a delightful teat!
Seven times taller than the Ayrshire cows she’s modelled on, the beefy beauty was created by Huge Anderson…. sorry, make that Hugh Anderson. He enjoyed the task so much that he went on to craft the Big Bulls in Rockhampton, so certainly didn’t go into it calf-hearted.
Put Out To Pasture
Sadly the farm was abandoned and this bo-vine-looking Big fell into disrepair, much like the Prawn and Ploddy the Dinosaur. The farm was used for a number of purposes, most notably as a halfway house for recovering drug addicts. When I visited in 2017, an aggressive man with a spider tattooed on his forehead offered me a package of illegal drugs. “Sorry,” I told him as I handed over my wallet and shoes, “my only addiction is oversized roadside attractions.”
Whilst distressed to lose my Video Ezy membership card and collection of Tazos, I had no beef with the lunatic, and was pleased that the withdrawal symptoms from a nasty case of methamphetamine addiction would be somewhat mitigated by the opportunity to admire a giant cow every morning.
Our friend was soon cow-moo-flaged behind thick bushes, and forgotten in favour of Queensland’s ma-newer Big Things. She was clearly pasture prime and it seemed like this steak was cooked. Thankfully the Big Cow was donated to the happy chappies at Highfields Pioneer Village in 2019, and a few months later was sliced in half (ouch!) and trucked to her new home on the outskirts of beautiful Toowoomba.
“She had a bit of render fall off, probably from all that salt air on the coast, and some weather has gotten in from those holes,” village secretary Jody Dodds told a gobsmacked journo from the ABC. “She hasn’t had much TLC for a while. We think it will cost around $29,000 to have her back in perfect condition.”
Cow-abunga, dude!
A Manure Hope
On September 20, 2020, the redemption of the legendary Big Cow was complete, when she was unveiled to her hordes of rabid fans in a very moo-ving ceremony. The new owners even re-opened the moo-seum inside the Cow after decades of closure. She’s now calm and relaxed in her tranquil retirement home, and it’s no cow-incidence that attendance at the village has never been higher.
Alright, I’ve milked this story long enough, but I have a question; since when did cows have horns?
A quick note; whilst I’ve included a cheeky udder pun in this story, udder infections in dairy cows are a serious problem. They’re painful and potentially fatal if left untreated. I enjoy a giggle as much as anyone, but cows suffering due to unhygienic conditions and lack of adequate medical attention is no laughing matter.
Queenslanders love guzzling icy cold XXXX beer almost as much as they adore their Big Things, so Koumala is like honey to the bee for those up north! The colossal can stands like a beacon outside the well-presented Koumala Hotel, luring in travellers from the Bruce Highway for a cool drink and a bite to eat from the expansive bistro menu.
The titanic tinnie is actually a water tank, and when I visited he was peeking out from behind a thorny thicket. Hopefully his owners cut back the foliage soon, or we’ll beer-ly be able to see him!
Worshipping a three-metre-high can is thirsty work, so I popped into the pub for a refreshing beverage. There’s a large crocodile above the front door and the interior is quirky, with a charming retro aesthetic.
I’m not a beer drinker, and not a huge fan of Bundaberg Rum, so I ordered my paramour – an appletini with a delicate twist of fuchsia grapefruit – from the gruff bartender. After barely escaping a severe beating, I dashed off to nearby Sarina to collapse safely in the bosom of my good friend, Buffy the Big Cane Toad.
I hope I can see my big, yellow alcoholic friend again one day!
From Beer To Eternity
Fancy binge-drinking on Big Cans? Then head over to the desert outside Las Vegas, home to Claim Your Destiny. Also built from an old water tank, this aluminium artwork is even larger than Koumala’s colossus. Just don’t tell the Queenslanders I said something nice about American beer – they’ll ban me from ever coming back!
For a bloomin’ great time in the Garden City of Toowoomba, visit Picnic Point to see the Big Sunflowers. The popular petal-heads have plenty of pollen power, with piles of plant-o-philes posy-ing for a picture.
The bud-dies sprouted in 2012 as a tribute to the people of the city, the local schools, the Lions Club, and Toowoomba legend Ian Orford. I’m sure there were half-a-dozen other worthy causes the designers wanted to thank, but there wasn’t enough room on the sign.
Whilst my heart will forever belong to the mystical, captivating, and sweetly-scented Miss Bateman clematis (the subdued pastel hues make my soul mourn for a simpler time), my appreciation for sunflowers really blossomed after meeting these lovely ladies. I had a similar reaction to the Big Poppies when they arrived in Gosford shortly afterwards.
Despite content with having each other for company, these delightful daisies were very excited when the Big Cow moved into the neighbourhood in 2020. In fact, you could say they were over the moo-n!
Garden me for repeating myself, but these girls really are sun-thing special!
For many years the rural village of Apple Tree Creek was synonymous with its legendary Big Beer Bottle, but when it was sent to the big recycling bin in the sky, roadside attraction lovers had little reason to slow down as they zipped along the Bruce Highway.
But don’t just fly on by, because eagle-eyed Bigs aficionados will notice that Apple Tree Creek’s now home to the Big Parrot. He appears to be a Norwegian Blue and may or may not be pining for the fjords. The chunky bird’s a bit rough, looking like he was knocked together in someone’s backyard. He does, however, have a silent pride in his eyes, and a peck-uliar grin on his face.
The azure avian has been dumped haphazardly outside the award-winning Flying High Bird Park. It’s home to more than 3000 feathered friends from across the globe. All the birds in there are normal-sized, though, so I didn’t bother going inside.
I highly recommend you take a squawk on the wild side and have a claws encounter with this odd, little-known and underappreciated Big Thing. It really is a wing-wing situation, even though he’s not as snappily-dressed as his beaked buddy the Big Penguin. Or wild and zany as his feathered friend Pete the Pelican. Or as popular with the locals as the legendary Big Chook. Alright, Owl stop!
The only question is, shouldn’t Apple Tree Creek be home to, you know, a Big Apple?
Nothing warms the heart like a shiny new Big sprouting out of nowhere, so imagine my joy when the Big Melon was unveiled in Chinchilla one slice day in 2019. And water specimen she is!
At nine metres long, three metres high and weighing four tonnes she certainly has the size to impress, but it’s the craftsmanship and attention to detail that makes this pink-and-green dream stand out. Seedless to say, I could write a power salad about her beauty!
Big-thusiasts have Wotif to thank for this thriller in Chinchilla, because the travel website launched a nationwide competition to find – and fund – our next incredible roadside attraction. Thousands of suggestions poured in, including the Big Box Jellyfish in Darwin and the Big Sausage Roll in Wyong.
Melons of votes from Big Thing zealots saw the Melon emerge victorious over the Big Kilt in Glen Innes, Big Tulip in Mittagong and the Big Peanut in Kingaroy. She really did leave the competition green with envy!
Whilst I believe the good people of Australia made the right decision, my soul weeps for those who came so close to having a Big to call their own. I hope the heartbroken residents of these towns don’t give up on their dreams. Until then they can visit other giants fruits such as the Big Banana, Big Pineapple and Big Fruit Bowl for a delicious treat!
She really is one in a melon!
The only negatives to the watermelon – apart from not being able to tuck into her perky pink bits! – are due to her location. She runs parallel to a straight section of the Warrego Highway, meaning that it’s difficult to achieve a full appreciation of its superb size without stopping.
That brings us to the other problem – it sits happily next to the local Visitor Information Centre, which has far too little parking for an attraction like the Melon. But I guess I’m just fruit picking… I mean nitpicking!
Chinchilla, 300km west of Brisbane, is the undisputed melon capital of Australia (although Gumlu, home of the original Big Watermelon, might argue that point), and is home to the wildly pip-ular annual MelonFest. The Melon’s opening ceremony was one of the biggest days in Chinchilla’s robust history, and I was fortunate enough to be the guest of honour.
After delivering a brief yet inspirational speech that was met with rapturous applause, my face went redder than the Melon’s juicy flesh when mayor and self-confessed Big tragic Paul McVeigh took to the stage with tears in his eyes, “Bigs, you’re the best friend Australia’s Big Things have ever had.”
What an abso-fruit-ly wonderful thing to be called!
