Cost of Living5:19The economics of giant dinosaurs (and other roadside attractions)
The first large roadside attraction Mira van Bodegom encountered was a patrol car and airplane perched on top of a flea market in a small Ontario community called Cainsville.
“It was super cool. We took some photos, and we explored the flea market that we had no idea existed, and that’s how it all started,” she told CBC’s Cost of Living.
In 2000, after moving from Alberta to Ontario, van Bodegom was looking for an affordable way to explore her new surroundings. Her search led her to a website called Large Roadside Attractions of Canada, where she planned a small road trip and quickly “fell in love” with the unique monuments scattered across the country.
Years later, after the website’s founder, Ed Solonyka, passed away, van Bodegom took over. For more than 10 years, she and her husband have continued adding to the site’s collection, which now includes around 1,500 roadside attractions from coast to coast.
“As soon as the snow melts, people are on the site, checking things out and preparing for their trips,” said van Bodegom.
For decades, Canada’s whimsical roadside giants have drawn visitors and generated tourism revenue for small towns. But as tourism evolves and upkeep becomes increasingly expensive, some communities are asking whether these landmarks are still worth the investment.
The Trans-Canada connection
Most large roadside attractions were built during the 1950s to 1970s, a period that coincided with the construction of the Trans-Canada Highway, says Wayne Smith, a professor and director of the Institute for Hospitality and Tourism Research at Toronto Metropolitan University.
Mr. PG, a statue of a smiling log man, was built in Prince George, B.C. in 1960. The Big Nickel was built in Sudbury, Ont., in 1964. The UFO landing pad was built in 1967 in St. Paul, Alta., and the Big Potato was built in 1969 in Maugerville, N.B.
These oversized spectacles, says Smith, were not only built as symbols of “civic pride,” they also became economic tools. By drawing travellers into towns they may have otherwise driven past, these landmarks helped generate revenue without requiring major tourism infrastructure such as hotels.
“The economic impact was in the tank of gas you sold, the lunch you sold, whatever tchotchke you have being sold, and that’s all your town [needed],” said Smith.
Today, for every hour a family spends stopped in one of these towns, they could easily spend between $100 and $150 on gas and lunch alone, he says.
And if a visitor buys even a fridge magnet, bumper sticker or T-shirt, he says, that spending creeps higher.
An uncertain future
But not every roadside giant survives.
In Duncan, B.C., the world’s largest hockey stick and puck was dismantled in August 2024 after years of deterioration and rising maintenance costs.
Now, another Canadian icon could also disappear.
For more than two decades, Tyra the Tyrannosaurus has towered over Drumheller, Alta., as a larger-than-life symbol of the community known as the “Dinosaur Capital of the World.”
Built in 2000, Tyra was designed to be another year-round attraction in the town. The dinosaur features a staircase inside its body that visitors climb to reach a viewing platform in its mouth. The goal was to encourage people who visited the world-renowned Royal Tyrrell Museum to spend more time exploring Drumheller.
But as the lease agreement between the town and the Drumheller and District Chamber of Commerce — which owns the landmark — approaches its end in 2029, the chamber says it is looking to refocus its efforts on supporting local businesses.
That could mean stepping away from operating the attraction, which comes with significant maintenance costs.
Canada has more than 1,500 roadside attractions across the country. Most of them were built at the same time as the Trans-Canada Highway. We wanted to know what makes people stop — and spend — when they come across a giant oddity by the road, and what the tipping point is between that economy and the cost of upkeep.
Last fall, for example, more than $300,000 was spent repainting the dinosaur and repairing cracks in its fibreglass structure, says Heather Bitz, executive director of the Drumheller and District Chamber of Commerce.
“We’re trying to come to a positive solution to have an ongoing future for the dinosaur, but there’s no final decisions made on what the future beyond 2029 looks like yet,” she said.
Changing times for roadside attractions
The way communities attract visitors has changed, says Joe Pavelka, a professor of ecotourism and outdoor leadership at Mount Royal University in Calgary.
If a town once relied on a giant statue to draw attention to a local attraction, Pavelka says those discoveries today are more likely to happen online through social media posts, travel guides and lists highlighting the top things to do in a destination.
While roadside attractions can keep a community’s name alive as visitors take photos and share them online, he says they don’t often encourage people to stay overnight, which is key to reaping greater economic benefits.
“Without the capacity to turn that rubber tire traffic into overnight traffic, you’re always going to be at the margins,” he said.
For a long-term tourism strategy, he suggests communities focus on “real product development” that benefits both visitors and residents, such as unique food experiences, self-guided trails or other attractions that encourage people to spend more time in the area.
“We’re starting to see a lot of destinations put together lunchtime itineraries, essentially capitalizing on whatever is viable in that particular area,” he said.
More than just a monument
But beyond dollars and cents, Smith says many of these landmarks offer a way for visitors to connect with a place and learn about its history, and some have deep meaning to the people who live there.
For example, at 42 feet tall, the world’s largest sausage in Mundare, Alta., celebrates the town’s Ukrainian heritage.
It was built by Ed Stawnichy, the mayor of Mundare and owner of Stawnichy’s Meat Processing in 2001, a family-owned Ukrainian food company that has operated since 1959.
“He thought to himself, this is a very Ukrainian area … why don’t we build a giant sausage?” said Kyler Zeleny, the grandson of Stawnichy.
Ultimately, Zeleny says the large sausage brings people joy, which is at the heart of it all.
“Small town, big town, East Coast, West Coast, central,” he said. “Anytime that we have the opportunity to celebrate something that might just put a smile on someone’s face, I think that’s very worth it.”
