Written by Mary Jeanes
When one of my best friends, Gary Wilkerson Jr., told me he wanted to hike from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail. What was my first response?
“Can I film you?”
Gary and I met years before in community college theatre. We lived together during university and even attended film school together. Gary was a TV writer living in LA and just about the most “indoorsy” person I had ever met, so when he proposed the wild idea of living in the woods for six months while he hiked 2,600 miles straight I was onboard. I was eager to witness the journey someone who had never camped a night outdoors before or walked more than five miles at a time would go through for such a seemingly outlandish goal.
Against all odds, Gary succeeded in his objective and I captured every grueling and magical step along the way.
– YouTubewww.youtube.com
In preparation for our hike, I spent much of my energy on assembling the best technical system for capturing the journey. My focus was on carrying only the absolute essentials I needed to film as I had to also carry everything required to survive, sleep, and eat on the trail as well. Being a 5’4” strong but not large girl, the aim was to keep my pack weight to a minimum. Thus, my camera gear ended up being narrowed down to this brief list:
I settled on filming with the Sony A7siii, recently released a few months prior to our hike. The lightweight, mirrorless camera lent itself well to long-form filming in the elements. It was weather resistant, which was important as we’d be traversing the sandy and windy desert, the near-rainforests of the Pacific Northwest, and at high altitudes in the Sierra Mountains with it’s rapidly changing temperatures and weather. I appreciated the 10-bit color and wide dynamic range the sensor boasted, allowing me to film in the inevitable low-light situations where I had little control.
One of the biggest factors in choosing this camera though was it’s ability to dual record the same footage to two separate cards at once. I was comforted by immediately having a backup of our footage. I would ship off a few cards every couple of weeks to our friend and producer, Whitney Clinkscales, who would dump our footage to drives, give me the go ahead to wipe the backup cards I had kept, and then ship the cards she had dumped back to us. It was important for me to have peace of mind knowing I had a copy of our footage safe on me while the cards were in transit to be backed up.
Having enough enough juice to power the camera while in the woods for a days at a time ended up not being as large of an issue as I imagined. The new batteries with the A7siii purportedly had extremely long life of over two hours of continuous shooting per battery. I kept four batteries on me and charged them when we went into town for a resupply; which generally arrived every four to seven days. Ultimately though, the camera would remain off until I was ready to film.
Mary Jeanes filming ‘Black Outside’
I happened to already own the Sony 24-70mm 2.8f lens I used on the journey which also helped to influence my camera choice as finances would be tight with taking six months off of work to pursue this project. While I garnered many comments about the size of lens I carried — “Wow that’s a big camera lens you got there” was an almost daily quote I received from passerbys — having the ability to quickly reframe and capture an endless variety of types of shots based on the needs of the moment was essential. To have the ability to rapidly adjust from a sweeping wide of the landscape we were traversing to a close-up of Gary taking it all in without needing a lens change.
I used a variable ND filter to not only protect the lens from the elemants but also to aid me in achieving the shallow depth of field and the dreamy and intimate feel I was going for even during the most sun-exposed days we had. My lens cap didn’t fit over the filter and in a pinch I found during a resupply a pink Pyrex dish lid fit perfectly over my filter. It worked so seamlessly that I still use that dish lid to this day.
Carrying the camera presented an unexpected challenge. Before we began the journey, I imagined myself pulling the camera out of a front pouch attached to my backpack but keeping it away to protect it when not in use. This very quickly proved to be ineffective. I had underestimated how often I would be using the camera and how quickly I would need to have it ready to go. When an interesting moment arises, every second is consequential.
For the first few days the camera hung strapped around my neck, straining my shoulder and back muscles. I rectified this by using carabiners to attach my camera strap to my backpack frame, redistributing the weight of the camera from my neck to my hips. Doing this essentially converted my pack frame into a sort of EasyRig. I was able to use the pack frame to hold much of the weight of the camera, reducing arm fatigue and allowing me to hold the camera steady for long periods of time.
In the “Default World” as we lovingly called our non-trail lives, I make my living as a commercial and documentary gaffer. Lighting is my world and business and is of utmost importance to me. So endeavoring to make a film without a single light (outside of a headlamp), was a major challenge for me to overcome. How was I going to make a film that I desperately wanted to be a lovely work of art with no stands, no lights, and (god forbid) no diffusion?
The most effective tool I used is one I already employ on set while gaffing — the position of the camera in relation to the light source.
Mary Jeanes and Gary Wilkerson filming ‘Black Outside’
I generally shape light using a key that comes from the far side of the subject in order to create a sense of depth and interest through shadow. While I didn’t have control over where the light was coming from on the trail, I had full control over my own position. Depending on the location and time of day, I would position myself and camera to allow the light to wrap around my subject(s) in a way that matched the feeling I was observing from the moment. Many times this would be positioning myself so Gary was between myself and the sun, but if the moment was harsh and direct, I could lean into that by positioning myself with the sun to intensify that feeling.
Hand in hand with positioning is framing. The framing and camera movement of a film plays a huge role in telling the story.
I had some limitations in that I didn’t have dolly and track in order to get smooth tracking shots, no ladder or jib arm to get a high angle, no gimbal to stabilize my shots. I did however have the whole natural world around me to get creative with shots. I constantly ran ahead (and I mean miles ahead, at times) to get extreme wides of Gary ascending a mountain alone. I would climb atop boulders to get a unique perspective of a scene. Utilizing the foreground of trees and brush would allow me to bring more depth to my images.
Ultimately though, capturing the genuine moment always outweighs the look of a shot. I cannot predict what will happen in any given moment; that is the beauty of documentary and why we find them so captivating. People have an insatiable curiosity and want to authentically connect with others. Accepting that I must let go of what I cannot control and stay present in the moment is the best choice I can make.
This brings me to the most important lesson I learned while filming this documentary: Honor the trust your subjects put in you.
It’s no easy task being in front of a camera. Gary and many other incredible individuals put their trust in me throughout this journey to capture their stories. I had to earn that trust in order to allow them to feel safe enough to be their authentic selves. I often sacrificed the look of a shot so I could make eye contact and engage with the subject. I regularly put the camera away when someone was feeling uncomfortable. Building trust with the people who are allowing you to witness them matters more than anything else you can do as a documentary filmmaker. If someone is uncomfortable, listen and hear what they are saying. Give them the space they need. When the hard moments to film inevitably come, your subject will have trust that you care about them more than your film.
They are putting their trust in you; honor that responsibility.
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