Parenthood
Western Lowland Gorilla in the forests of Gabon
This one comes to you from Gabon. I've been sent out here with my good friend Max Köbl, tasked with filming one very special family of Western Lowland gorillas. As I sit here writing this, I find myself wrestling with why exactly I keep coming back to the jungle.
We came back from the field early today, it was impossible to film and keep the camera dry. Even the gorillas decided it was too wet, settling down together in a huddle that looked, frankly, as miserable as we felt. On the boat back, raindrops bounced off the surface of the water like tiny ping pong balls, so full of energy they refused to merge with it. Our energy went into bailing the boat.
Right now I'm sitting under the main shelter, rain hammering against the palm frond roof above my head. Every so often a new leak makes it through, threatening to land squarely on this keyboard and shut down the whole operation. My clothes on the line outside are soaked through again. The t-shirt I'm wearing is slowly rotting off my back. My feet look like I've spent a month in the trenches, and Max has just taken his second Ivermectin tablet to deal with the worms that have taken up residence in his legs. I haven't got around to dealing with mine yet.
Tomorrow we will be back out again, this rain will have washed away all the tracks and if the gorillas move off tonight we might not find them at all.
But I've done this enough now to know that these are the moments you look back on and laugh. In many ways I'm writing this not for you, but for me. It's a good way to remind yourself to appreciate life and everything it throws your way. Yes, I'm soaked through and freezing and yes, most of my clothes have rotted away. But today I got to spend the day in the presence of a family of gorillas! A species that when you look into their eyes they don't just look back, they see you.
The filmmaking process requires getting close to to animals and making them feel comfortable. We call this habituation and to be honest with most animals its more of a tolerance, more of a, fine I can't be bothered running of anymore so if you sit still and don't move ill get back to what i was doing before you came into my life. But with the gorillas its different. It isn't a process of tolerance its a process of acceptance, a slow and deliberate building trust.
When you get too close, they don't get up and leave. You get the dreaded side eye. It's a look that says, really, you're going to try that, are you? It's the same look my mum used to give me when I swore I'd finished all my homework and could I please go outside now. You know immediately that you haven't fooled anyone.
We have been working with these gorillas for almost 4 weeks now, and shared moments that will live with me for the rest of my life. Today in the rain, both as miserable as each other. The elephant charge, were we all looked at each other has we huddle together in the shelter of the mangroves. Science says we can't communicate but I'm telling you in that moment everyone was saying the same thing, wtf did that really just happen. There is something ancient and completely humbling in that gaze. A recognition that crosses every boundary we've invented between us and the rest of the natural world.
Out here they call me a director. But I don't direct shit. We came to this jungle, their jungle. We came to their home and they let us in. They accepted us and were the most gracious of hosts. Surely the least we can do is make sure they still have one.
Flocking Knot
Every Autumn tens of thousands of Knot make their way to Norfolk to dance across the sky.
What are you up to for the rest of the week?
Can you be ready in 2 hours, I need you to come to Norfolk!
And just like that I was off on my first shoot, not exactly how I expected it to go.
We drove to Norfolk that afternoon. My producer, Chris filled me in on the details on the way.
Every Autumn tens of thousands of these small waders make their way to Norfolk to gather on the mudflats.
With every tide, pushed by the water they make their way up the estuary towards Snettisham.
As the last of the mudflats gets covered by the advancing tide they take to the air. Like a furl of smoke, they rise off the water. Every twist and turn sends a lustrous shimmer across the estuary.
Knot cascade across the sky. Each wing beat drums and one by one the rhythm builds.
A change of direction reverberates across the sky.
The murmuration pulses with a life of its own.
Birds shatter, condense and implode again. No edges to define this shape.
A final flourish brings the last dance to an end. But even on the ground, the murmuration lives on, ten thousand individuals together as one.
Not bad for a first shoot!
The Pub at the end of the World
A journey in search of the remotest pint!
The rain fell in sheets. I was soaked through, boots heavy with water once again asking myself, why do I keep going back to Scotland?
Our journey began under Glenfinnan Viaduct, popularised by Harry Potter. The dark clouds overhead doing little to dampen the onlookers' spirits.
We walked for hours, the rain never letting up. Clothes plastered to our bodies, soaked but smiling.
Freed from routine, the hypnotisation of the screen, the world began to whisper it secrets.
My eyes opened a little wider, and even as the heavens wept the clouds painted an ever-changing canvas, an ephemeral masterpiece to those who cared to look.
A fleeting moment, so easily overlooked brings a silly grin. I mean come on, seriously, please close the gate, is it going to keep the sheep in?
Even as the rain drummed on the outside of my jacket, I felt a sense of peace. The rain had washed away the dust and dirt, and the air was clean and fresh.
We soon reached A'Chuil bothy. A welcome sight. The fire dried our clothes while the whiskey warmed our souls.
Dawn came and went, the whiskey slowed our progress towards Inverie.
But as we stirred from our fog the clouds began to lift and the sun finally poked out.
A familiar scent, whispered on the breeze. Petrichor - that sweet earthy scent after rain. Always there but so often over looked.
A smell filled with childhood memories. Growing up where time was abundant. No rush, no worries. Amazed by everything, every smell, every sight, every sound even the sting of nettle was something that need experienced.
As we descended towards Inverie, where ancient mountains meet the sea, the heavens unfurled. This is why I love Scotland. Those precious moments made all the sweeter by the challenges before.
We strolled into Inverie. The pub, it turns out, was closed. But woven in raindrops and petrichor, walked under Scotlands ever changing skies, this journey would be etched in our memories forever.
It would have been nice to end with a nice cold pint, but maybe next time!
Sir David Attenborough
Living the dream with Sir David Attenborough
In life you seem to get these little moments, omens if you will, that you’re on the right track.
Since I first learned that you can get paid to travel the world filming wildlife I knew that was the dream. Young and naive I picked up a camera and thought, how hard can it be? Well as it turns out, pretty tricky.
But for me, taking pictures of Sir David Attenborough (I get tingles just typing these words) was one of those special moments where I just stopped and thought, you know what perhaps I am on the right track.
After all dreams are made to be followed.
Ecuador
Beginnings
It was 2021, almost a year to the day since the world stopped, that my international filming career finally started.
I found myself on the other side of the world. Deep in the high Andean cloud forest.
The forest was enveloped in a perpetual mist. The dampness clinging as we travelled through cloud.
Shapes and colours muted and softened, an other world.
And through the mist, a glimpse, a blur of motion.
Hovering effortlessly as if suspended by some unseen force.
Iridescent colours that shift and shimmer.
Every so often a break in the clouds would hint at the expanse of forest that surrounded us.
And then, overlooking the lush forest, Matt’s words hit me: “I hope it’s still around for my kids.”
We can’t leave only memories.
In Search of British Columbia's Coastal Wolves
I head to one of the last truly wild spots in search of one of Earths most charismatic predators
There is something about Wolves that has always drawn me towards them. Perhaps I relate to their social living. Maybe I just commend their ability to cling on in the shadows, even with a bounty on their heads. Or possibly it's just their wild, free nature that I aspire to.
So when I had a few weeks off work and was in Canada I knew exactly what I wanted to try to see.
So off I went, backpack, tent and a complete lack of commitments in search of a wolf.
The sign filled me with confidence but as I quickly learned, after decades of persecution, wolves are pretty tricky to see in the wild. Never the less, there's nothing better than being surrounded by nature and there was plenty of wildlife to keep me occupied.
After a week I was beginning to lose hope, maybe it was a foolish idea to try to see a wolf. But the next morning I got a lifeline. I still find it weird, and maybe if it happened on the first night and I hadn't had a chance to acclimatise to the island I would have been terrified, but when I woke up to find a set of wolf tracks right past my tent I was ecstatic.
I guess it put me in my place. The island was no longer mine, I wasn't the top dog, and that was good thing.
After over a week on the island, and having become content with the fact that I'd probably never see a wolf in the wild I continued with my adventures round the island. Then, as I round yet another head land, I spotted an unmistakable silhouette.
A real life wolf!
Having spotted me eyeing him from across the bay with complete admiration, he lay down and had nap.
What an animal. Without a care for me, he skipped casually across the beach as if to show off that it was his island and I was but a visitor. And a few magical seconds later he headed back into the forest, and I never saw him again. Probably a good thing, unfortunately, these days a wolf that's comfortable around people is a dead wolf.
