Carved from a single log and exuding a quiet, rustic charm, The Bulahdelah Big Bass presides over the majestic Myall River.
As the name suggests, this friendly fish is the pride of Bulahdelah, a Bohemian village widely regarded as the jewel of the NSW Mid-North Coast.
‘Bulah’ was erected in 2006, and became a place of respite on the drive up or down the legendary Pacific Highway. Grab a pie, gawp at an enormous wooden actinopterygian, then be on your way.
Sadly, there’s something fishy going on in Bulahdelah, because The Big Bass has been left to rot away. These days, the tangled bushes all but swallow her from sight. There was even an empty Coca-Cola container beneath her pelvic fin during my visit!
I can imagine a motley crew of plebeians sitting legs akimbo in the twilight, pouring sugar water down their gullets, oblivious to the artwork above their jabbering heads.
Bass-ically, it’s a tragedy of epic proportions. She needs a refurb-fish-ment. Hopefully the civic leaders read this and take the time to mullet over.
Despite all this, The Big Bass is still some-fin special. If you were prone to puns, you might even say she’s is a pretty big Bulah-deal-ah – teehee!
I’m Totally Addicted to Bass
Carved from granite and exuding an intense, smouldering charm, Gordon surveyed me as we sat beside the majestic Myall River.
The little alien chuckled to himself, then allowed his gaze to follow a lone firefly as it danced towards The Big Bass, before fading into the dusk.
Something was on his mind, but I was far too poltroon to explore further, so I allowed the silence to cloak us.
“You know, Bigs,” Gordon finally cooed, jabbing a furry finger towards Bulah. “I’ve been herring rumours about this place for years.”
“Well I only found trout about it recently,” I chuckled. The ice broken, I leaned in closer.
“Gordon,” I purred. “You didn’t bring me all the way out here just to trade bad jokes, did you?”
He grinned his funny little grin and, as The Bass peered down at us, looked me straight in the eyes.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Bigella and Little Peter Poppins lately,” he croaked, choosing his words carefully. “I understand if you don’t have time for little old me anymore.”
A single tear rolled down Gordon’s chubby cheek, danced in the dying light, and vanished forever.
“Gordie, you know I can’t do this without you,” I gasped, and we both burst into tears as the weight of the world lifted from our shoulders. “Things might change, people might come and go, but you’ll always be with me on this ride through the Land of the Bigs.”
“Well, I suppose I am the personification of your lost childhood and unrealised dreams,” Gordon grinned. “Not even years of intense therapy could get rid of me!”
“That’s enough chit-chat for one day, let’s head home,” I sighed, waving goodbye to Bulah. “I’m sardinely feeling very tired!”
