It was way back in ’97 when the good people of Cronulla woke to find a new addition to the seascape in the shape of a dunny bowl cemented to the reef at Shark Island.
In the years since, all sorts of rumours have swirled regarding its origins and whether its placement had a deeper meaning rather than simply shits and giggles.
Some argued it was a statement against the poor water quality at the time; others argued it was an avant grade art installation, disappearing at high tide only to reappear on the low.
But they’re a tight old bunch down that way, so when Tracks started nosing around to solve the mystery of who actually put it there in the first place, the shutters went straight up.
“Could have been one of about 12 people,” was all long time local, Matt Griggs, was prepared to offer.
“There’s always been some characters surfing the island, especially in those days.”
Jon Frank, who partly developed his unique brand of photography out at the Island, suspiciously around the same time the incident occurred, was similarly quick to shut the investigation down.
“I don’t have any info for you,” was his measured reply.
Current kingpin, Terepai Richmond, initially offered little more than, “I’m not the guy you should be talking to.”
Prompted, Richmond added, “I initially thought, “What idiots did that?” But then I heard they…I mean…whoever did it, originally contemplated putting tennis umpires chair out there so you could hang out and document their buddies. I got a good old chuckle out of that.”
And on it went, ‘till a last minute tip off led to a late night hook up behind Northies. There, amid the pashing teenagers and divorcees, the patsy spilled what info he, or she, had.
“I saw two guys, one in a helmet, his squatty little goofy footed mate and a couple others take turn paddling out the dunny, then bags of cement on a paddle board they’d lifted from the clubbies,” he, or she, said.
“They were giggling like little school girls and then they let off a couple fireworks to celebrate once the quick set dried.”
The bowl maintained its pride of place for quite some time till a heaving east swell ripped it from its foundation.
Despite our best efforts, the singing canary refused to offer up any hints as to the true identity of the so-called “Dunny Bowl Four” and the mystery remains.
“I can’t,” he, or she, insisted when pressed.
“Rusty and Boogs would kill me if I did.”
