The FCA really should consider re-locating to the Northern Territory. Sure it's hot but here is one part of the nation unashamedly Aussie in language, attire, diet and thirst.

It's also chock-a block full of the outback stories overseas editors adore; crocodiles, Indigenous people, strange deaths, Czechs scootering up the Stuart Highway (we saw him) etc. But the irony is we rarely get a chance to visit the joint properly.

Either you're passing through Darwin en route to Dilli or hanging outside the city's Supreme Court. Or the missing backpacker has been found parched in the desert or digested by the reptile. The NT is either en route to somewhere else or too damn far away for deadlines.

So the kind invitation of Tourism Northern Territory to host eight FCA members on what they coyly termed a " mega famil" around a town called Katherine was doubly welcome given some trepidation.

I, for one, abhor the term "famil". It usually involves a dreary parade through uninspiring properties (tourism industry speak for hotels etc). It should be reserved for the travel trade and not journalists who are understandably now rather more touchy about dipping their beaks in the once far fuller trough of freebies, jollies and junkets.

The advance itinerary listed canoeing, cruises, a cave, a community, cycads and of course crocodiles. But I was concerned about just how authentic the whole experience would be. Would we get the Territory "warts and all", cane toads not withstanding, or would this be the airbrushed, sanitized, gourmet version so beloved by inane TV travel shows?

Interestingly we were to be joined by some real travel writers. They doubtless get as shirty about us news reporters trudging on their turf as we have been about our overseas colleagues being parachuted into Australia, thanks to the largesse of tourism commissions, to write about our backyard. (Soon to be changed thanks to the FCA/ Tourism Australia compact)

Suffice to say there was no friction and both groups shared a terrific tour. There were thankfully no inspections of accommodations instead a full on adventure filled frolic parts of which could have come from a reality show.

There was Marie Le Moel, not long in Australia, confronting her arachnophobia with some of the biggest, colourful and not to say most friendly spiders in the Top End. Emma Henderson was as ever the arbiter of good taste but almost sparked a police hunt in far away Sydney's King Cross. She hadn't told her parents she was going away, and as in this land of the "Never Never" there's precious little mobile coverage, they thought she was missing and raised the alarm.

Our first contact with local culture came in Darwin with Geoff the coach driver who was to take us 300 km south of Katherine. A fair dinkum Territorian he has been here for years without losing any of his Black Country accent from the Midlands of England. Sid Astbury's guess as to Geoff's hometown was only five miles out.

After the first of many swims and soaks by waterfalls and in hot natural springs we had sunset dinner cruise of the Katherine Gorge in what's properly known as Nitmiluk National Park. Indigenous man Jamie Brooks was our eloquent and charming guide who faced a barrage of questions about the Dreamtime, skin groups, spears and native justice.

Like most of our hosts he queried us as to why we had to ask so many questions?

The highlight of the trip was a 30 km canoe paddle down the Katherine River. The powerful current did most of the work and camping on the banks of the river in swags was a first for many of the group.

Lin Kuang and Yuan Li had the right idea and shared the only two man canoes with our guides. This at least ensured, unlike Sid and this reporter, they didn't suffer the indignity of capsize. The energetic Monica Garriga managed many fine photographs although she was more scared of getting her camera wet than of the assembled appetites of the wildlife.

There were both saltwater (the dangerous ones) and freshwater ( the less dangerous ones) crocs in the river but that didn't stop us both drinking from and swimming in the safer more shallow stretches. Thank you Gecko Tours.

We chilled out after that experience with a visit to the Jurrasic Cycad Gardens where the Indiana Jones character, who'd collected these ancient plants from around the world's hot spots, admitted he'd lost his autobiography in a hard disc crash. And I thought that only happened to FCA members.

South to Mataranka, a rather humid show cave, another extraordinary coach driver and long lazes in hot springs. We spent a day with the fine people of the Manyallaluk Aboriginal community in an area formerly known as Eva Valley cattle station.

It was a tourist venture but the locals and their children were genuinely interesting and interested in us and our cameras, Ipods etc. The bill tea was spot on although for us the kangaroo tail at lunch was an acquired taste.

They opened up the art gallery and with much delight many of us, notably Rudolf Hermann, acquired paintings and figures made by the very people we had just met.

The " mega famil" was a great success and many thanks to Mary Peterson, Ingrid Sanders and Ngarie Curran from Tourism NT for their input, assistance and friendship.

I should not have worried. We were shown the genuine article. The food and coffee generally still leave a bit to be desired for our big city tastes but there were good stories galore and memories which will last far longer. We could get some premises for the FCA there at a very good price.