Took the younger generation of my family to Tumut’s Falling Leaf Festival this year. It was awesome. Photo: Briony Winchester.
Mate. They’re everywhere.
Once you start noticing people from Tumut in Canberra, you can’t stop.
At least three times a week, I’m either talking to, hearing stories about or being shocked (yet again) that someone has a relative in Tumut.
A bloke at work’s missus is from there. The awesome couple I met at lunch last weekend? Tumut. My favourite client? He’s from Tumut.
Which begs the question: how can such a small rural NSW town have such a big impact on the capital? I mean, there’s half a million of us and like 6500 of them.
Not even Yass or Gundagai (which are closer) have the same kind of impact.
For those unfamiliar with Tumut, picture a classic NSW country town that looks like it’s trying to climb a very large hill. There’s an angry, raging river at the bottom and a slap-happy golf course of sorts at the top. There’s a thriving main street. A couple of primary schools, a high school and a takeaway shop called Golden Chicken that’s a local staple for barbecue chooks.
It’s 200 km from Canberra and officially known as the gateway to the Snowy Mountains. The annual Falling Leaf Festival is its claim to fame.
The headline of this article is no joke for me. My beautiful Nan – the most selfless, kind and quietly hilarious woman there ever was – was born in Tumut.
My cousin Lindsay Anderson and the Tumut man of her dreams, Trent Paton, on their wedding day last November. Photo: Supplied.
My cousin Lindsay found her husband at the most iconic of all iconic Tumut pubs: The Star Hotel. She says she knew the moment she clapped eyes on him; he was the one. It was 2009, and she was drinking Red Cruisers with girlfriends during a weekend away. He was wearing ‘jeans and a nice shirt’ and leaning against the bar.
“When I first laid eyes on Trent I felt an intense familiarity, like I already knew him. Like literally my soul was home,” Lindsay says.
(It’s a fairly dramatic reaction to seeing a bloke at The Star Hotel, but Lindsay maintains it’s true.)
“He’s down-to-earth and has traditional values … like he values family, loyalty, hard work and the simple things in life. Like a hard day’s work. And pig hunting.
“He’s got that friendly, generous and community-minded nature that feels very typical of Tumut.”
“Off the froths until November” is how my Tumut friend Ellen Cameron (nee McGruer) announced her pregnancy on Instagram. Photo: Supplied.
My Dad confirms similar traits in his best friend from Tumut, Brett. Dad and Brett met in 1975 over, ahem, ‘shared interests’ and they’re still mates 51 years later.
“People from Tumut tell it like it is, and wear their hearts on their sleeve. They live outdoors, daylight to dark, and the biggest compliment they’ll ever receive is to be called a good worker,” Dad says.
“They know how to dig a hole properly, do a nut-and-bolt restoration on an old Holden and how many times Brocky won Bathurst.
“They love their town, its seasons – especially autumn – and everyone in it because they know them. They love great Australian traditions, like the Flying Doctor and volunteer for the hospital auxiliary, just like their Nana did.”
The little town with big impact, Tumut NSW. Photo: Snowy Valleys Council.
Maybe that’s why I keep noticing them.
Maybe Canberra isn’t unusually full of Tumut people at all. Maybe I’ve just spent my life recognising something familiar in them.
My Nan was born there. She loved horses, worked hard, gave more than she took and never needed anyone to make a fuss about it. The older I get, the more I realise how much of her lives on in our family.
And maybe that’s the thing about Tumut people. You can take them out of Tumut, but you can’t take the Tumut out of them.
It follows them up the Hume Highway to Canberra.
Six thousand people shouldn’t have this much influence over a city of nearly half a million.
But mate. They’re everywhere.
