The Crocodile Hunter: The Incredible Life and Adventures of Steve and Terri Irwin (17 page)

Just as my legs began to cramp, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold on, Steve was ready to remove her head from the trap. Throughout this entire ordeal, the crocodile had never given up. Periodically, she would build up to the point where I knew she was going to struggle. Tired as she was, it would still take both of us to hold her until she settled back down again. Removing the last bit of net was the most dangerous time for Steve and me. Steve had to untie her top-jaw rope from the tree and feed the rope through the net. As the last of the mesh came away from her face she was completely free of any restraints. Steve and I, alone, were holding her there.

A quick measurement indicated that she was about ten feet long. As a crocodile grows, for every twelve inches they increase their length, they gain another thirty-three percent in body weight. We could only estimate, but she probably weighed in at around 390 pounds—nearly double Steve’s weight!

Now we had to carry/drag her to the river’s edge and load her into the boat. As we neared the water, the croc could sense freedom. All she wanted to do was go home. Steve and I were quite shocked when we saw the boat. We hadn’t taken into consideration the dropping tide. There below us, about twelve feet down, was the tiny dinghy. Now what do we do? Without skipping a beat Steve said to me, “Let me have her.” Then, throwing his arms around her neck and a leg over her back, Steve literally rode the crocodile straight over the edge, landing in the boat with a bang!

Both Steve and the crocodile were fine. I slid down the steep embankment and jumped in to give Steve a hand. The croc didn’t like it a bit when the motor started, but once we were under way it was a quick trip to the release site. Just as well. It would be quite easy to suffer a broken arm or leg while trying to restrain a thrashing croc in the boat.

This tributary was quite remote. It had a lovely sand bar for sunning and high ground for nesting. Our girl would be quite happy and undisturbed here. We eased her out of the boat and set her next to the water. She seemed surprised when we finally let her go. She looked around for a moment before walking toward the water. A bit cumbersome and awkward on land, the crocodile became poetry in motion when she entered the water.

A warning to travelers heading inland from the relative safety of Australia’s coastal region.

Emotions ran high as we watched her gracefully disappear. None of us could say a word. We had not managed to save her mate from the cruel fate of a poacher’s bullet, but she was safe now and she would make a life without him. I could not imagine what would make someone shoot this magnificent predator. For sixty-five million years they have lived on this planet. Now humans controlled their fate. I hoped with all my heart that we could one day make people understand that crocodiles are not monsters. They are good mothers and passionate lovers. They live over one hundred years and have an intricate family structure. I wouldn’t want to live in a world where there were no crocodiles. It would be like removing the river’s soul.

We packed up quickly (Steve does everything in a hurry) and headed back for home at the Park. I didn’t fully appreciate then that this was just the beginning. Over the following years Steve and I would spend about half our lives in the bush. We didn’t realize just how well received our wildlife documentaries would be.

We were not back long when it was “on the road again,” and in the next four years we covered a lot of ground in order to film fifteen wildlife documentaries. I reckon I have gotten to know Australia better than most Australians! This is a beautiful country with spectacular wildlife, but how little we really know about the unique flora and fauna that live here. We’ve unlocked some secrets, but a great deal remains a mystery.

My most memorable filming experience, and closest call, occurred on the way to Queensland’s Simpson Desert. Steve and I were on a mission to capture a male perentie lizard for our lonely female perenties back at the Park. The expedition would also prove to give us enough footage for a two-part television special entitled “Crocodile Hunter Goes West.”

Scenes from our adventures on one of Australia’s beautiful river systems.

En route, Steve took advantage as always of any wildlife filming opportunities. This time we stopped to camp at a series of fantastic gorges. Steve bounded down the steep embankments to see what secrets these caverns held and twice he returned with the bleached bones of animals that had become trapped in the areas with sheer walls, impossible to escape. We agreed to try and film in the deepest area we could find.

Perentie.

It was one thing for Steve and me to abseil down for a quick look, but quite another to assemble crew, camera gear, and sound equipment. It took seven hours of hard yakka and numerous trips before we were set up to film at about three hundred feet from the bottom. This last drop would have to be made by Steve and myself on our own. It was then that we discovered our cameraman wasn’t keen on heights. He was absolutely paralyzed at the thought of leaning over that cliff to film our descent. Luckily, one of our crew was an experienced mountaineer who agreed to help the cameraman back up to a tree where he could be strapped up in a full body harness and made to feel secure. With a little additional coaching, he could film over the edge with no problem.

That would work fine for a wide shot, but to follow us into the chasm we would need to rig up a special miniature camera on a long cord. Steve and I practiced with it until we were confident of handling the descent and the camera. Finally, with the afternoon shadows getting critically long, we were ready to drop into the unknown.

It should be mentioned that I have only ever seen one other fellow climb like Steve. His name was Archie, and he lived at Taronga Zoo. He just happened to be an orangutan! Therefore, my heart only mildly skipped a beat as I watched Steve free climb around the bulging rock face with only the smallest toeholds. The big difference was, this time I had to follow!

Steve abseiling in a gorge during one of our filming expeditions.

The plan was to free climb down to a larger ledge Steve had seen below. This lower ledge would afford us the luxury of good tie-off points so we could abseil all the way to the bottom. As I approached the tiny ledge where we would start our climb down, I felt a tightness in my chest as my breathing came quicker. I tried to relax, but the first part of our climb would be over vertical. I knew that I had to calm down or I would be in trouble. Every climber knows that the skill is about seventy-five percent mental. Confidence is everything. I tried to concentrate on Steve’s instructions, but he could see that I wasn’t comfortable with the situation at all. In order to give me that all-important mental advantage, Steve tied me off to the only thing available…himself. That rope connecting me to Steve gave me the courage to ease myself out on the tiny ledge and over the edge.

I was feeling with my toes for a foothold and it quickly became apparent that my short legs could not follow the same pathway that Steve had when he first checked out this route. For a brief moment I felt the security of a tiny toehold. As I wedged the tip of my hiking boot into the crack, my weight shifted to bring my other leg down and without warning, I felt as if someone had suddenly jerked me downward as the rock abruptly crumbled away from under my foot.

I remember thinking what an odd sensation it was. I was falling, but not like the character of some movie hurtling over a cliff. Rather, I was very undramatically leaving all the skin from my thighs on the rock face as I slid straight down. I couldn’t scramble. I was over vertical. In one swift instant I was hanging on by my hands. All thoughts of the miniature camera, still filming beside us, went out of my head. I knew that I was in big trouble when I heard the fear in Steve’s voice. “Just hang on and I’ll get you,” he ordered. But as he leaned over to grab my arms, I was just out of reach.

By now I was too tired to pull myself up and the muscles in my arms were beginning to cramp. “Hang on or you’ll pull us both over!” Steve yelled. I was painfully aware of the fact that we were tied together. Try as I might, I didn’t have the strength to pull myself up with one arm so that I could grab Steve’s hand. I was terrified to feel my grip slipping. It made no difference now whether or not I’d been tied to Steve—I simply couldn’t hold on any longer. I slid further down the rock wall and dangled like a puppet at the end of the rope.

Steve was lying completely flat now, at a dangerous angle over the edge. I was practically sobbing as I begged him to pull me up. “Give me your hand, I can reach you,” I heard Steve’s strained voice say. As I reached up, I didn’t even have the strength to close my hand around his. Steve stretched out to the very limit and clamped his hand around my wrist. With a power that must have been pure adrenaline, he dragged me up to the ledge until he could grasp my harness with his other hand. We lay right there on that ledge for what seemed like an eternity. Not until I had begun to regain my composure did I notice the crew scrambling down to help us. They had been with the cameraman the whole time, coaching him through his bout with vertigo!

I’m happy to report that I’ve been on many climbs since, without incident!

The trip to the desert held many other adventures, not the least of which included capturing the big male perentie we were after. The perentie lives in some of the most remote desert areas in Australia, frequenting certain mesas and rocky outcroppings where it can escape the extreme temperatures in caves and hollows. On this particular trip the temperature would soar to 50ºC (122ºF) by smoko, which is our traditional morning tea break. By afternoon, the only living things moving were the five billion flies trying to pile into my eyes, nose, and mouth.