Grand tours Why I'll never smile at a crocodile

Writers' adventures in literature: Steve Irwin hunts for a monster among Queensland's mangroves

Born in 1962 in Australia to parents who were both naturalists, Steve Irwin spent his childhood helping to care for the animals at the family's reptile park in Queensland. He became famous for his television shows, 'Crocodile Hunter' and 'Croc Files', in which he aimed to get cheek-by-scaly-jowl to the kind of animals most humans actively avoid. A real-life Crocodile Dundee, Irwin's overgrown boy-scout looks, ebullience in the face of man-eating beasts and ability to say "crikey" a lot have seen him caricatured in 'South Park', and playing the lead in last year's movie 'The Crocodile Hunter: Collision Course'. Here Irwin describes a feared crocodile more than 30ft long and the attempt to trap it

Man was his only fear, but he'd learned about man, the invaders of his territory who were torturing and taking his girls when the still of night was disturbed by the thundering of outboard motors and piercing lights. They had been killing his family for over fifty years and he knew that if he looked at the lights the loudest of all animals would call and his death would follow.

It was while we were assisting the Queensland National Parks and Wildlife Service with relocating rogue crocodiles, that Dad and I heard the tale of this legendary croc. We felt drawn to him.

From the moment we laid eyes on the habitat belonging to the big croc we fell in love with it, a truly magnificent tidal system laced with enchanted mangroves and wetlands fed by the spectacular tropical rainforests of the Great Dividing Range. This picturesque environment supported a myriad of wildlife, from its apex predator, the saltwater crocodile, to docile vegetarians, from agile wallabies to microscopic marine life.

But the area is the scene of classic conflict between man and the environment. Cane farms are bulldozed all the way to the river, and there's pollution of the river systems exacerbated by speed boats.

We spent many months scanning the muddy riverbanks, a primeval ooze teeming with life, on the low tide, hoping to see the slides or marks left by our quarry. Countless lead-in baits, lures, and traps were set to no avail.

Then, one morning, Dad spotted our first sign. The big black croc had made a mistake. Dad located a belly slide tucked up in the mangroves where the big old fella had been basking the previous day.

Several days later, Dad left me, with faithful dog Chilli, in the croc's territory. One man and one dog in the vast maze of mangroves, pitted against the legend. I set two traps in the vicinity of the belly slide Dad had located. Then I set my biggest trap upstream from the belly slide, in the area I considered the wildlife "hot spot'', the stretch of the river prolific with wallabies, pigs, flying fox, fish, and mudcrabs: perfect croc cuisine.

Another trap was set down towards the mouth of the river in the area where the majority of "man versus beast'' stories originated. The mouth of a river is of prime importance in a large male's assertion of dominance in his territory. This old bloke would have had many bone-crunching fights with subordinate males trying to cut in on his turf.

Every time I entered his part of the river I could feel his presence. Often in the stillness of the night I'd cut the outboard, turn on the spotlight, and drift. And every time an eerie sensation would overwhelm me. Even Chilli could sense it. My task was awesome and, by crikey, I was going to be careful!

One night I spotted the eyeshine of a small croc, about ten feet long, which I assumed was one of the croc's girls. I quickly unravelled a net, tied it to the mangroves, then reversed out into the middle of the river, hoping the current from the tide would drift the net around the croc. Briefly turning on my spotty, I picked up her eyeshine. The net was coming around nicely. Another scan with the spotty: the crocodile was coming straight for me, against the current! Adrenalin surged, and my hands were sweating and shaking so hard I couldn't start the outboard. I was panicking.

"Stevo, slow down! Slow down!'' I kept repeating, trying to get the grip on myself I needed. "Chilli, get in the middle of the boat and stay!'' I commanded. I grabbed the spotlight. It had been disconnected by my scared little dog.

Scrambling frantically, I reconnected the spotty. Confidence was regained once I had the power of light in my hands. I scanned the river. There it was. The net was now past my boat and heading upstream at a good rate of knots. "Start the outboard!'' I had to shout at myself for my body to react. The boat caught up to the trailing ends of the net. "C'mon, Stevo ... think, boy, think.'' The net was being dragged under. Scurrying to the bow, I grabbed the net ends and tied them to the bow hook. I jumped back towards the outboard as an almighty surge pulled the bow under water. Regaining an even keel, I slammed the outboard into reverse.

"Back off. Steve! Back off!''

The reverse thrust of the outboard against the "nuclear sub'' I'd caught in the net pulled the bow under and I began to take in water.

"Crikey, I'm going to sink! Forward, forward! Get into forward!''

Before I had the presence of mind to jam the motor into forward gear, the bow sprang back out of the water like a slingshot. Seconds later the net floated up. Apprehensively I gathered it and headed back to camp. There was a hole in the net that you could have driven a 4WD through. Whew! Thank God for that.

It seemed obvious that old legend, the big black croc, had been sidling up to one of his girls at the time, so he had challenged the net, perhaps in her defence. The case with which the mighty dinosaur ripped through the net was proof of an animal with intense power.

This is an extract from The Crocodile Hunter', by Steve and Terry Irwin (his wife). Readers of 'The Independent on Sunday' can buy a copy of the book (rrp £12.99) for the special price of £10.99 including p&p (within the UK). Call 01903 828503 and quote ref: JACH.

Follow in the footsteps

Croc hunting

Known locally as "saltie", the saltwater crocodile is the world's largest surviving reptile. Males can grow up to seven yards in length and weigh more than a ton. Croc trophies are a relic of the 20th century as the saltwater is now protected from Crocodile Dundee types.

The nearest and safest encounter with this deadly predator is to croc cruise along the reptile-infested Daintree River in Daintree National Park. This is rugged frontier land, where visitors can also join hikes into the rainforest.

Park life

Northern Queensland is also home to most of Australia's birds and mammals. The fragile ecosystems are protected in more than 200 national parks and 150 conservation parks, under the authority of the Queensland Parks and Wildlife Service. The Great Dividing Range extends along the east coast, rising to 5,400ft in the rainforest Wet Tropics and ends near the tip of Cape York.

Getting there

Trailfinders (020-7938 3939; www.trailfinders.co.uk) offers return fares with Japan Airlines from Heathrow to Cairns via Tokyo for £541, with a stopover on the return journey at The Nikko Nurita airport hotel.

From Cairns airport, Coral Coaches offers regular services to Daintree (00 61 7 4098 2600). A wildlife "crocspot" cruise with Daintree Connections lasts an hour and costs AS$20 (£8) (00 61 7 4098 6120). The Redmill House (00 61 7 4098 6233; www.redmillhouse.com.au) offers b&b in a double for AS$80 (£31).

Tourist visas are valid for three months and are free for EU citizens. They can be obtained online as an Electronic Travel Authority or ETA (www.australia.org.uk) or from the Australian High Commission (020-7379 4334).

Selina Malhotra