Australia Zoo’s Crocodile Hunter Lodge is the Perfect Family Escape

A family weekend at Australia Zoo’s new stay delivers magic in even the smallest moments.

The pay-off on a holiday with kids is rarely the pay-off. Take them to the NSW South Coast for its long stretches of empty beaches or the chance to spot seals and instead watch as their tiny minds are blown away by a mega jumping castle at the local RSL. The pay-off, when it comes, is often not the one you saw coming.

As my 10-year-old daughter, five-year-old son, husband and I make the one-hour drive from Brisbane Airport to Australia Zoo and its new accommodation offering, I wonder what the pay-off will be. My daughter is an avid watcher of Crikey! It’s the Irwins. She is fixated on seeing someone – anyone – from the show and I reckon the odds are in her favour, given that zoo staff are regulars on the series. Meanwhile, the lure for my son is one I’m certain the holiday can deliver on, having browsed the website for The Crocodile Hunter Lodge: “I just want a pool.”

The Billabong at The Crocodile Hunter Lodge

“Elephants can only sweat from their cuticles.” It’s a stinging 31 degrees in Beerwah, 25 minutes inland of Caloundra on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast. The driver of the bus that ferries us between lodge and zoo several times over our visit can no doubt spot a southerner. “Hot enough for ya?” he shouts as he drops us at the zoo’s front gate.

One advantage of a two-night stay at the lodge, which has one-, two- and three- bedroom self-contained cabins, is getting unlimited access to the zoo for three days. Rather than forgoing, say, a talk at the Tiger Temple in favour of a Wildlife Warriors show, we can do it all – my daughter recording animal facts in the recycled-paper notebook she scored at the lodge – and call it a day when the heat gets the better of us.

What started in the 1970s as the Beerwah Reptile Park, at just under a hectare and the site where the late Steve Irwin met American-born Terri, today encompasses almost 300 hectares (45 of which are accessible to zoo guests) and includes a 5000-seat stadium, the Crocoseum. Visitors are reminded that, at its heart, this is a family operation with features like Robert’s Reptile House (Robert being the son of Steve and Terri), a lemur sanctuary known as Bindi’s Island (Bindi is their daughter) and a spot named for Bindi’s firstborn, Grace’s Bird Garden. But other areas of the zoo neatly reflect how the business has grown.

We head to South-East Asia to find two Sumatran elephants in their eight-hectare enclosure. Zookeeper Liz explains how the decisions we make at the shops – like checking that palm oil used in a product has been sourced sustainably – can impact the species. We’ll discover later that the chilli used in dishes at the lodge’s Warrior Restaurant & Bar, as well as the edible flowers that arrive with my muesli in the morning, have been grown in this same enclosure.

Towards the end of the day, as we’re riding the bus back from Africa, my daughter gets her moment. “That’s the big boss there,” says the shuttle driver. “Luke – he’s Robert’s best mate.” (Luke Reavley is general manager of the zoo.) My daughter squeals and cranes her neck. “I know him! He’s on Crikey!”

“Koalas can hear sounds up to two kilometres away.” With my legs dangling over the edge of the lodge’s 25-metre infinity pool, I wonder if those same marsupials we learnt about today are listening to my kids squealing as they jump about. There’s another family, playing a game of Marco Polo, and a couple lying on sunlounges ordering poolside drinks. Every so often, the kids swim to the edge and look over the neighbouring paddock to count 10 grey and red kangaroos and two emus. After a day spent admiring exotic species, it strikes me that it’s our native animals that beguile them the most. These are inner-city kids – “Wildlife crossing” signs along the highway are as close as they’ve come to sightings of the animals on Australia’s coat of arms.

We make our way back to the polished grey, white and timber interiors of our cabin (some of that timber has been recycled from the original zoo) to sit in the lounge area and make plans for the next day. My daughter: “I really want to do an animal encounter.” My son: “Can we go back to the pool with the kangaroos?” The galley kitchen has facilities to whip up a simple meal but our evening plans include dinner at the Warrior Restaurant (which is also open to the public).

After hanging our cossies on the deck to dry, we take the road that loops between the cabins, shoes crunching on the rocky path as we head for the property’s hub – a concrete, steel and timber structure that houses reception, the restaurant, a perentie lizard and diamond python. With staff dressed in khaki, the reptiles don’t seem so out of place. My husband, a keen gardener, rattles off the plants he spies: grevillea, lemon myrtle, casuarina, Glasshouse Mountains tea tree, Queensland bottle tree. He’s cheating a little – there are plaques along the way explaining the lodge’s conservation efforts.

“Did you know that native bee honey can be used to treat injured sea turtles?” my daughter asks, reading one plaque before moving onto another – a picture of Steve holding a koala. She reads it aloud: “My job, my mission, the reason I’ve been put onto this planet is to save wildlife. And I thank you for comin’ with me. Yeah, let’s get ’em!” The last part she chants as she races ahead.

“Aldabra giant tortoises can recognise more than 60 faces.” While my daughter savours a Calippo from the zoo’s lolly shop, my son is darting between a waterplay area, a reptile-themed carousel ride and a massive inflatable jumping pillow, alongside other red-faced kids.

He continues his circuit of Crikey! Kids’ Corner with Dad while my daughter and I head off for the 12.30pm Totally Tortoise encounter. We’d caught the Tortoises Live! show with zookeepers Brandon and Jill (and tortoises Igloo and Goliath) earlier on the trip; now, we want a closer look. Eight people step into the enclosure with zookeeper Nathan and two Aldabra tortoises, which are only in their mid-40s but can live to 200 years. My daughter peppers Nathan with questions, notebook in hand. What do they eat? (Silverbeet and hibiscus.) What do they like? (They’ll start to sway if you scratch them along the tail end of their shell, which she does.) And finally: “Have you been on Crikey! It’s the Irwins?”

“Yep,” says Nathan, laughing. “I was in an episode with Bruce the brolga.”

“With birds, you have to build a strong bond so they don’t fly away.” The pay-off comes on the last morning. I wake to silence. There’s no movement in the cabin but it’s too early for the pool. I shuffle down the hallway and out onto the deck, where I find my two pyjama-clad kids sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the top of the stairs, looking straight ahead, not blinking. A few metres away sit five kangaroos, one a joey, staring back. “It’s been like this for a while,” my husband says. “Who do you reckon will break first?” A kookaburra, sitting a step back from the roos, looks to be wondering the same thing. It doesn’t really matter. The kids have already won.