Big things: Australian icons

Yesterday, in order to give my friend Shilo the ultimate kitsch Australian experience before she heads home to New York in a month, a few of us headed to the one and only Big Pineapple in Nambour. In addition to posing in front of said pineapple and admiring the pineapple plantation, we also partook in the Pineapple Special sundae (a crapload of ice cream atop a hollowed-out pineapple half). Delicious.

Images: Kylie Challenor and Shilo Byrd

I’ve always been a fan of the ‘big’ tourist attractions. My grandparents live in Coffs Harbour, home of the Big Banana. We’d go to visit Nanna and Grandad almost every year in the summer holidays, and every year we’d just have to visit the Big Banana. Mum has countless pictures of me and my little sister — always wearing matching clothes but in different colours — standing in front of it, each year looking a few centimetres bigger than the year before. On the way to Coffs Harbour we’d pass more of the ‘big’ attractions. There was the ‘little’ Big Pineapple at the Caltex in Gympie, and then we’d detour to the real thing in Nambour. Once, we even stopped at the Big Shell in Tewantin. Then we’d pass the Big Prawn in Ballina before reaching Coffs. And if that wasn’t enough, one year Nanna took us on a trip to see the Big Cow in Wauchope. (See Clark 2004 for a comprehensive run-down of Australia’s ‘big’ attractions.)

So you can my excitement (coupled with mortification) when on a road trip to Sydney more than half a decade ago I discovered one of these monuments that I hadn’t seen before. Just north of Newcastle, I passed The Rock (formerly known as Leyland Brothers World) — a big fibreglass-looking faded brown thing fashioned on the ‘original’ Uluru. (Total Travel n.d.) A few kilometres up the road, I wished I’d gone inside and bought a tea towel and one of those souvenir spoons for Mum (she used to collect them), but I’d unfortunately let the opportunity pass in a blur out the window. My excuse for not stopping is that it was raining. Pouring, in fact. And I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one continuing my journey down the highway instead of pulling into the very vacant (and very pot holed) car park.

Even though I only saw the outside of this bizarre monument, it didn’t take me long to conjure up a very clear picture of what I would have seen inside had I dared to walk through The Rock’s cavernous entrance. Upon pushing through the creaky turnstyles, I would have been confronted with racks of the usual souvenirs that we’ve come to expect to see in such tourist establishments — clip-on koalas wearing akubra hats, The Rock fridge magnets, mass-produced didgeridoos, shell sculptures with googly eyes, novelty oversized pencils, and those tiny plastic TVs with a viewfinder in the back showing pictures of the ‘real’ Rock with the click of a button. And everything would have the kind of cheap price stickers that leave a sticky residue that never really goes away no matter how much you pick at it.

Upon trawling my way through the shop to the back, I’d find an overpriced restaurant (translation: bain marie with an instant coffee maker and a soft-serve machine). There, they would serve ‘authentic’ Aussie food — you know, dagwood dogs, burgers, potato wedges with sour cream and bacon, Devonshire teas, and ice-cream sundaes with little Australian flags sticking out of them. I’d order myself an ice-cream sundae (for around $8.50, I expect), and then instantly regret it when I realised just how much caramel topping had been poured over the top. And maybe, just maybe, there would be a farmyard out the back for the kiddies, in amongst a couple of filthy barbecues.

According to Wilmoth (1997), Leyland Brothers World had closed in 1992 after Mike and Mal went broke — the receivers had come and changed the locks and it was sold for $800 000. (Harvie 1992, p.33) Thankfully, the entrepreneur who bought it had the good sense to keep the attraction going as The Rock roadhouse, and I hope to return one day and buy some fridge magnets. Until then, I’ll need to be content myself with my fantasy of what might be inside. 

References

Clark, David 2004, Big things: Australia’s amazing roadside attractions, Penguin, Camberwell.

  

Harvie, Jeni 1992, ‘$800 000 Leyland sale’, Australian financial feview, 8 December 1992, p.33.

Total Travel n.d., Rock Roadhouse, viewed 29 November 2008, <http://www.totaltravel.com.au/travel/nsw/northcoastnsw/portstephens/shops/foodliquor/rock-roadhouse>.

Wilmoth, Peter 1997, ‘How the Leyland Brothers lost their way’, Sunday Age, 27 July 2007, page unknown.