Visiting friends in Tumut

Editor's Pick Award

Our Editors awarded this travel blog entry for providing relevant information that may be useful and inspiring for other travelers.

Taking the long bus ride from Sydney to Australia's capital, Canberra, affirms what we have read about Australia; it is huge.  So vastly huge that we only went a centimeter on the map (large map I might add) in the several hours that was spent in the Greyhound bus.   Much of the time was spent looking out the tinted windows, only to find copious amounts of garbage that lined the Hume Highway.  It looked like someone took an oversized dump truck filled with used paper products, brought it up to race car speeds, and barreled down the highway to empty its contents before us.  Beyond the debris on the highway, Australia's landscape has an intoxicating affect, with the now, brown rolling hills and sunburnt landscape.

During our long bus trip, Pipka and I packed some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (I'm really getting tired of these as I have consumed more in two months that most five year olds do in a year) which we had to eat behind the cover of our seatbacks in the rows ahead of us.  Prior to the ride, the driver reminded us that no one should eat, drink, do drugs, and then went on a long dissertation of the other cumbersome rules that you can only find with public transportation.  I guess we shouldn't have been too worried about him seeing us.  The man had thick binocular style glasses that could stop small ammunitions which enabled him to have limited visibility at best.  Several times we were wakened from our naps as he drifted across the fog line on to the highway's rumble strips.  After a short stop in Canberra, we proceeded to Gundagai where we would meet our contact, Jenny Lees.

While spending a rainy afternoon on one of Fiji's smallest islands (the area was smaller than a football field) about two months ago, we met a family of four over a course of two hours and a couple of beers.  They invited us to come and visit them in their home town of Tumut, which we gladly took them up on.  As we drove into Tumut, we noticed that it hadn't rained in some time.  As a matter of fact, we were told by several locals that they are in the middle of a five year drought.  (guess they have five years to go then)  As Anne and I have brought good fortunes of rain to everywhere we have traveled lately, we thought we would be good for a heavy soaking of the area; not so in Tumut, we met our match.

Tumut is hot and dry.  It's the kind of heat that makes you move, eat, and digest slow.  At least it's a dry heat!  If this place was located anywhere in California, it would have burned down--several times over.  Despite the abundance of solar power, Tumut is a wonderful town of about 6000 residents.  It has a clean and lively central business district where everyone knows everybody and is the kind of place, that if found in America, would be destroyed by an oversized Wal-Mart just on the outskirts of town.  I'm not saying that Wal-Mart is an oversized, evil empire, I'm just suggesting it.  Back to Tumut.  We headed to the Lees' home and finally met up with the rest of the family: Mark (dad), Sam, Toby, and the dog, Ruby.  Mark made us dinner on the barbie, and how fortunate for us, he was a professional chef for over ten years.  We ate quite well and were happy to get off the routine of PB & J's.

The following morning we met Mark at the end of his work shift (he is now the Manager of the information and tourism center for the Tumut area, and works for the National Parks, how fortunate for us again) and took a short hike back into the bush, followed by a drive to the Blowering dam that is unfortunately, only at 23% capacity.   The Blowering Dam is the site for the world's water speed record of over 300 mph set back in the late 70's.  Later that night we went to the local golf course to see our first set of hopping kangaroos, followed up by dinner of the same.  I can not say enough good things about Mark's cooking; the kangaroo roast was delicious.  It is not too gamey like venison or other wild game, and taste like a slow cooked roast beef.  I highly recommend it.

On our second day, we took a 2.5 hour drive to Jindabyne which would foreshadow our mini-safari the following day.  The roadsides were teaming with wild and exotic birds--to us anyway.  There were Crimson Rosellas (a red a blue type of parrot), Sulpher-Crested Cockatoo's, Lyrebirds, and Laughing Kookaburras that resemble the shape of Kingfishers in America.  Among the countless kangaroos, we also saw an Echidna and Emus in their natural habitat.  Much of the land was recovering from massive forest fires that occurred three years ago.  The Alpine Ash, which requires a forest fire type heat to open its seedpod, appeared to be on the way to recovery, while the snow gums, which normally are resilient to fire, were regenerating from the bottom as the fire had burned through their forest canopy.  While in Jindabyne, we walked around town, only to complete the Australian salute several times over.  The Australian salute consists of waving your hand in and around your face (frantic style hysteria should be noted), to wave the Common Bush Fly from your head.  More on the Common Bush Fly in "likes/dislikes" section when we leave Australia.  We went back to Tumut for dinner where we ate battered fish for dinner, and Mark's homemade Pavlova for dessert.  (Pavlova is an egg white and sugar based dessert with a meringue crust, topped with fresh berries and whipped cream--quite good I conclude)  With that said, we went to bed in an effort to recharge our batteries for the mini safari the following day.  Before we went to bed, we attempted the family photo with disasterous results.

Photo shop 101.  I set the camera on top of the barbie, with tripod legs spread at a minimal distance, so it would fall of course, then stepped away.  While walking away to gain my pose for the photo, I watched the camera topple over.  It fell to the deck three feet below, then bounced as if it was a fresh grape, on to the concrete eight feet below.  After careful examination, we all noticed that the lens was at a 45 degree angle to the camera's main housing, and looked beyond repair.  The open camera lens stared back at me like it was trying to say "you're such an idiot".  Well, after an hour surgery with my Swiss Army Knife, I was able to pop the lens back in to the socket and take photos as normal, much to Anne's dismay.  (she would like a new digital camera-one that is as thick as a credit card and would be lost or stolen just as quickly)  Fortunately for you, the reader, we have some photos to go along with my overworded articles.  

bkh