TRAVEL@LXG: Mongolia - Leaving the World Behind

That's what it felt like - to be stood on a landscape, so spellbinding, and yet so alien - that it almost felt unreal to actually be there.

The steppes of Mongolia spread out like some vast cloak of grey and green over a gently undulating terrain. It seems almost too tidy, too well planned out - compact stands of pine trees crest every mountain-top. Boulder-strewn riverbeds twist, serpentine across the valley floors. Closely cropped pastures of grass cling to the ground - everything is in its right place, even the wildflowers grow in a kaleidoscope of colours.

Its the vastness of the place that gets to you though - you feel insignificant in the scheme of things, as your jeep struggles along a dirt track riddled with potholes. The sheer scarcity of people hits home, as you survey the horizon, and over a distance of say, twenty kilometres or so, only two or three homesteads lie huddled together, with a small herd of livestock scattered nearby. The characteristic yak-skin tents known as Gers are all that these people of the plains have tp protect themselves from the elements. We are here during summer and there's already a chill in the air. But when winter hits, it does so with a vengeance - as temperatures fall below zero and the entire country becomes frozen beneath snow and ice.

Yes it is beautiful, but it is a lonely kind of beauty. Even for someone like me who is happy to escape from the bonds of human society from time to time - this vastness could well become overbearing after a while. Its no wonder the Mongol people seek out each others' company in annual festivals and fairs. A sense of Community is a survival strategy in a place like this, where you could easily lose yourself in a constant landscape that stretches further than the eye can see and the mind can comprehend...

They are tough, these people - sturdy, enduring and tireless in the undertaking of their daily chores. As most of them are herders, horses take centre-stage in their lives. These wiry steeds are almost like living extensions of their riders. They move imperceptibly together across the plains in an ageless scene that could be centuries old. The Horse and the Rider - defining symbols of Mongolia.
We spent a precious few days in their company, and it wasn't long before all my sense of bravado about being able to live this kind of life, flew out of the window. They live right off the land, quite literally. And despite best-laid plans, every day is determined by the elements themselves. Only forward-planning gives these people a fighting chance, plus the ability to react fast to any given situation, be it positive or negative.

"Expect the unexpected" is an unspoken mantra, and the Mongolians' approach to life is to grab it by the throat and hold on for the ride. Yes it is a beautiful life. But a life that they have to work hard for. The blood of the Khans certainly endures out here in the vast empty plains...

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ME@LXG: Simple Minds, Sir David, and Sri Lankan Bears

Its amazing how a simple tune can evoke a vast store of nostalgia, seemingly from out of thin air. 

(THIS WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN MY BLOG, TUSKERMAN TRANSMISSIONS IN 2006)

This morning a song blaring from a distant radio, a typical tune from the mid-80's - I think it was an old hit by Simple Minds - tapped a totally forgotten region of my memory, and suddenly I was back in those old days of questionable hairstyles and garish clothes, surrounded by the sounds of the new romantics as the pop music movement called itself back then. And there I was, a wonder-struck schoolkid in the heart of the Midlands in the UK, forgetting about my homework and my beloved BMX Chopper, and escaping instead into a world of meerkats and honeypot ants and mountain gorillas. A televised dreamland, made real by the unassuming magic of David Attenborough. 

Life on Earth and the subsequent series in the Life trilogy were something of a revelation for me, a series that opened my eyes to the possibilities of the great unknown; that made me realize, even in my early teens, that there were corners of this world that I could never see, and yet there were some that I most certainly would.

David Attenborough's calm and composed presentation struck home far stronger than any modern-day 'reptile hunter'; compelling me to think further than the shores of England, further than the physical constraints of the tired old elephants of London Zoo.

He made me realize that television could open the doors to the natural world; that TV could bring to life the reasons for environmental conservation in a far more compelling way than dusty old textbooks in dusty old classrooms. That TV could make nature accessible to anyone and everyone.

And so began a somewhat convoluted journey to where I am right now, with still miles to go. Whether I have made bad nature programmes or good, Sir David is directly responsible. I have always aspired to creating television in his approachable and accessible style. Even hard science can be translated for the least sophisticated audience, through a simple device called a story. Every story has a thread, that starts at the beginning, weaves the middle, and connects it all to the end.

I am learning how to tell a good story. I've even stepped in front of the camera a few times to try and bring life to the tale, but in all truth my aspirations of being an Attenborough are much like Golem aspiring to be Gandalf - I don't have the white hair and I can't carry off the safari jacket.

But given enough maturing and the considerable weight of experience I may try again. Attenborough is still my milestone.

And so this leads me to my current project, one that began in mid '05 and is scheduled for completion later this year. Its a story that takes me back to Sri Lanka and into the heart of a country I have rediscovered with new eyes. It is also a story that Discovery Networks has taken considerable risks in commissioning, as its central character happens to be the island's most endangered mammal.

Numbering less than 300, Sri Lankan Sloth Bears are something of an enigma. They may as well be ghosts for most of the year, and I would be very surprised if even a quarter of the country's population knew of their existence.

And yet for just a couple of weeks they make themselves known, very briefly. It is this window of opportunity that my story hinges on... and perhaps the reason I often find myself shaking my head and asking a simple question to the world in general, "Why?" 

I've had more than a fair share of luck during my years making wildlife shows, but what a way to start my debut with Animal Planet... forever waiting for that fountain of luck to run dry.

In truth however, nature has been kind to us. In spite of unforeseen forest fires and severe droughts, the bears did their disappearing/reappearing trick for us last year. It was still mostly a case of 'blink and you miss them', but when they did choose to oblige us - I can't begin to explain the feelings that raced through my bloodstream. A mixture perhaps, of immense relief, adrenaline and sheer awe.

Again I wanted to add that Attenborough ingredient into the body of the story, but as is often the case, I was reminded once again, that the world has moved on. The kids are more sophisticated, the audience has a limited attention span. The gentleness of 'once upon a time' has been lost in most of the work you'll see on Nat Geo or Discovery these days. Its not their fault, its what the public demands. I feel a great sense of loss that the 'wonder of it all', the instinctive excitement of pushing aside a leaf and seeing what lies on the other side of the forest... all this will vanish when the David Attenboroughs of this world are no more.

I think sometimes that I was born two or three generations too late for this business. The marvel of wild discovery and exploration is taken for granted on our screens today. There are some gems that crop up amidst the rubble from time to time, but by and large this is the age of unnecessary risk-taking and showmanship and playing up to the camera, with the wilderness playing second fiddle. That should never be the case, and I wonder how long this genre of wildlife television can sustain itself.

So in many ways, the bear story has become a kind of visual 'holy grail' for me. Its important not just professionally, but also because it allows me the opportunity to tell a story about the island of my birth.

Just one little story, a tiny fragment of a much larger and wonderfully complex picture - but a story that for once will have an audience that spans the world. This is something I had promised myself somewhat naively as an idealistic teenager. If the bears do their part, I'm sure we can make something special together.

And I'll be sure to put a little of the Attenborough ingredient in there somewhere, just to please that wonderstruck schoolkid, way back when.

Yes, its amazing how a simple tune can evoke such nostalgia... 

C.

POSTSCRIPT: "SEASON OF THE SPIRIT BEAR" WENT ON TO BE MADE AND AIRED ON ANIMAL PLANET CHANNEL. IT IS STILL ON AIR TO THIS DAY IN VARIOUS PARTS OF THE WORLD. THE FILM WAS NOMINATED FOR SEVERAL AWARDS AND WON A SILVER MEDAL FOR ITS CINEMAPHOTOGRAPHY AT THE AUSTRALIAN CINEMAPHOTOGRAPHERS GUILD AWARDS.

WATCH Season of the Spirit Bear ON YOUTUBE

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