Bulletin writer Claire Scobie and photographer Robert Young spent two days among the grieving crowds on the Sunshine Coast. Claire shares her diary.

Australia Zoo, Saturday, September 9, 2006
The Shrine: 8.15am

Flowers are piling up; khaki shirts scrawled with names and condolences. Balloons, candles, cuddly toys, a crocodile made from bottle-green painted egg cartons. They come from schools, offices, families. Large posters covered with multi-coloured handprints. Paintings, sketches, poems. An offering of two dream-catchers, with a note in rainbow-coloured writing, by a young child: "These dream-catchers are for you to dream about your family and zoo when you are in heaven."

The theme that runs through all the messages is that Irwin was a part of everyone's family - their best mate, an ordinary Aussie and an extraordinary Aussie; legend, icon, loving father and fearless warrior. Sniffles, yes, sobbing, no. Adults weeping discreetly into tissues, no children crying. Condolences as much for Steve as for family. The kids' messages are the most touching: "Steve we'll miss you, you were the greatest."

Three types of visitors: the tourists who are just there to be voyeurs and check it out are in the minority; the families with their kids; and the generic grievers.

Such a range of people - that week they've had big bad motorcyclists who were crying, Maoris who came to do a farewell, Aboriginal elders who did a blessing, young guys from as far away as Cairns, local families, from five-year-olds to 95-year-old grandmothers who'd made the pilgrimage to a zoo which is rapidly becoming a shrine.