My kids learned to smile at a crocodile

It would be, wouldn't it? The first thing we saw after stepping out of the Toyota Landcruiser at El Questro, a million-acre wilderness park in the beautiful Kimberley Range of Western Australia, was a crocodile.

It lay log-like in the river, glowing in the rays of the evening sun, its tail occasionally ruddering it back into prime waitingfordinner position. The children gazed at it with eyes the size of soup plates.

"You said we wouldn't see any crocodiles," wailed my seven-year-old daughter Nancy. The truth is that after one too many Roald Dahl bedtime stories the idea of seeing a crocodile in the flesh had become the stuff of nightmares. Crocs were right up there with wolves, trolls and Fluffy the three-headed dog.

No amount of distraction - squadrons of cockatoos squabbling in paper-bark trees, an orchestra of frogs, the ink-black sky glittering with new constellations (the Saucepan, the Snake, the Southern Cross) - could divert them from the thought of that menacing croc lying in wait in the river. I began to think we'd made a terrible mistake taking our children into the outback. The most dangerous creature they'd ever encountered was a bull in a distant field - the most challenging terrain, an uneven pavement.

Not unexpectedly, our first venture - a mile hike up Emma Gorge, one of El Questro's most dramatic geological landmarks - was greeted with near mutiny. We were guided by Celia and Will Burrell, El Questro's young owners, and their four-year-old daughter, Coco. They looked cool and composed. We looked limp, pallid and shambolic by comparison. "My legs feel wobbly," moaned Ned, our five-year-old, as we launched ourselves up from a riverbed across an anarchy of rocks. If this was Survivor, I thought, we'd be voted off en bloc.

But I'd underestimated the children's resilience, adaptability and curiosity. Before long, they were following Coco into secret caves, looking for insects and Kimberley diamonds, dipping their hats into the stream, daubing their faces with clay. "This is like Indiana Jones," said Ned, thrilled, pushing ahead of me through the undergrowth.

At the end of the gorge a spectacular 120ft waterfall thundered into an icy, crystal-clear rock pool. The children shot in like missiles, the cliffs around echoing with squeals, splashes and Crocodile Dundee-style "coo-eees". When another hike was suggested the following day, up Amalia Gorge, the children were first out of the blocks. Then there was beautiful thermal Zebedee Springs, hidden in a grove of Livistonia palms. And evening walks around the boabs looking for wallabies amid the liquid calls of currawongs and mocking kookaburras.

By the time we returned to the Chamberlain River for a spot of barramundi fishing, crocodiles had ceased to be Public Enemy Number One.

Barely 10 minutes after chugging off between the awesome 200ft cliffs of Chamberlain Gorge, there were shouts of triumph. "I caught three barra," beamed Nancy, when we landed to take a look at some of Australia's oldest Aboriginal rock art, "and a catty." "That's a catfish," she added for my benefit.

I only registered how totally troppo our children had gone when Will and Celia took us to the banks of the Pentecost for a cook-up. The moon was throwing shadows from the ghost gums across the river. In the distance a barking owl was yapping like a dingo. From the campfire wafted smells of fried barramundi and fresh damper. Ned handed around tinnies from the eskie.

"Let's go for a swim," Nancy suggested.

"You can't go in there," I protested. "What about the crocodiles?"

"Don't be silly, Mummy. They're in the Chamberlain not the Pentecost. Look, if you're worried," and she shone a torch over the water, "look for eyes. Red ones are salties and yellow ones are freshies. Freshies won't hurt you - unless you go near their nest. See - nothing. Let's go in."

And with that she pulled off her Blundies, wriggled out of her stubbies and splashed off into the darkness, calling for me to "hurry up and stop being such a whingeing pom".

Way to go

To reach El Questro, fly to Darwin, then on to Kununarra (around £150pp return) with Air North Regional. 4WD hire from Kununurra from £48 a day, plane charter from Kununurra from £130 a flight each way. El Questro has varied accommodation: luxury homestead, around £270pp per night full board (no children under 12), tented cabins, from £50pp a night, twin share and bungalows, £67pp a night and riverside campsites, around £5pp a night (children under 12 free). To book call 00 618 9169 1777, fax 00 618 9169 1383, www.elquestro.com.au

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