13/05/23 Big Bananas and the Mullimbimby Middle.

The weather forecast was for rain, and quite a bit of it. We decided that if we were going to get soaked cycling we should stay somewhere dry so we booked into the Mullumbimby Middle Hotel because that was the only accommodation we could find within spitting distance of the Northern Rivers Rail Trail.  We made big plans to get away early from the Arakoon Campground, but we were way too good at drinking tea to achieve that, and then when we did get away we had to stop for morning coffee lest Roger become all discombobulated and out of routine.

We had morning coffee at Macksville on the Nambucca River.  One puffy white cloud was the only sign of rain.  I met a man who had caught a crab by the simple expedient of poking it with a stick.  The crab, provoked, hung on for grim death and was carried in a plastic bucket to it's demise.

During our travels so far we had stopped at the big Koala, the big Hills Hoist, and the big Lobster so it was only fitting that when we came to Coffs Harbour we would stop at the  Big Banana. Back in 1964 it made perfect sense that John the banana farmer would decide to build the world's biggest banana in order to entice people to his road side banana stall.  What made the big banana even more special was  that John the farmer got the biggest banana he could find, carefully cut it into 40 slices, and produced detailed plans such that the Big Banana is not any generic old banana but is a faithful replica of the individual banana selected by John in 1964. 

I did not understand what the creature had to do with the Big Banana, apart from blocking out the words.  In fact I wandered the Big Banana complex in a state of blissful confusion, not quite understanding how most of what I saw had anything to do with bananas big or little. 

I understood this.  This was a big banana.

 

And if you wondered what the inside of a big banana looked like, now you know.

 

The Big Banana was also a monument to tourist kitsch, over priced tat, tacky entertainment, and expensive food. We didn't eat the expensive Big Banana food: we had a picnic lunch at Woolgoolga instead. Even this was surprisingly hard to achieve, Woolgoolga being over run with vintage car enthusiasts and a thriving farmers market.  The only free picnic table was right in the middle of the market so there we lunched, in between the vintage surf boards and home made goat soap.

 There was still no sign of the forecast rain, but from Woolgoolga we could at least see clouds that were putting in a decent effort.

Try, little cloud.  You can do it!

 

"Right," we said as we packed away our picnic lunch.  "Time to stop stopping and start traveling.  No more distractions!"  Up popped a sign for a rest area at New Italy.  "I remember this!" Roger got quite excited.  "I stopped here in 2018.  It's really interesting!"

We stopped and had a look.  I learned the fascinating story of the Italian survivors of the de Rays Expedition who were quite possibly Australia's first 'official' refugees.  Accepted by the colonial secretary of New South Wales, one Henry Parkes, the Italians spent a year in compulsory employment in the colony before individually selecting parcels of land which collectively formed a 3000 acre block near Woodburn.  The Italian settlement was now gone but New Italy remained as a rest stop and Italian Museum on the site, along with the Italian Pavilion from the 1988 World Expo in Brisbane.  And what a rest stop it was! We gave in and had coffee, giving up any pretense of traveling quickly. 

Michaelangelo's 'David'; Lismore's first coffee machine; and the first indication that this was not your average road side stop.

 After all the dallying at big bananas and drinking Italian coffee, we finally rolled into Murwillumbah to take up our room at the Middle Hotel, right in the middle of town. We parked behind the hotel and carried our bags up the external stairs through drifting clouds of smoke ("That definitely isn't cigarette smoke!" said Roger.  And he should know, having grown up on the Sunshine Coast in the '70s).  Our room defied all general principals of construction, having a floor that sloped in several different directions at once.

 

Home for a night or two: Mullimbimby Middle Hotel

 

On the verandah outside locals drank and bantered happily (and loudly).  We went for a wander down the street past a man who relaxed in a doorway, happily tootling on a tin whistle with no particular adherence to any established rules of music.  Back in the pub we searched in vain for a spot to make tea or coffee but finally had to accept that our stay in the Middle Hotel would be sans kettle, fridge, or microwave.  We did find a delightful room with a book case holding elderly encyclopaediae, and walls papered in genteel English hunting scenes.

My word, this isn't bad is it?  It would be absolutely tip-top if it had a kettle in it.

 

Our stay promises to be... interesting.