Expedition of Supermom
Mailande Becker Holland, Grizzly Creek Films Executive Producer
It’s late July and far from any sign of man. Leslie and I have climbed high into the rugged talus moonscape of the western Rockies to meet our production team. It was a brutal five-hour climb to our base camp, elevation 12,300 feet. We pressed on using the twelve-step plan: Take twelve steps up the steep mountain. Stop, take twelve breaths, then twelve more steps. Repeat. I am a flatlander by birth, raised on the white sandy beaches of Florida’s Gulf coast, elevation: sea level. I am far more comfortable at three atmospheres than I am at the top of the world, much more adept at negotiating coral reefs than talus slopes, but here I am.
Our base camp was nestled in a stunning green meadow filled with wild flowers. Sheer cliffs of rock and snow hemmed us in, a stream of spring melt allowed for the most basic hygiene and served as a cooler in our high talus brewpub. There is no way to contact civilization, save for hiking several hours back to the van, then driving very slowly down a treacherous “road.” Our team is high above us shooting grizzlies feeding on the army cutworm moths that migrate here each year. It is a picture perfect day, the sky blue and clear, warm sunshine bathes the landscape and chases away the midday chill.
In an instant, everything changed. Black clouds blew in, chased by winds gusting to over 50 knots. Les and I raced to our tent and hunkered down to await the storm’s rage. The sound of the tent flaps as they buffeted back on forth in the fierce gusts was deafening. Rain turned to sleet, then hail the size of marbles and bolts of lightning electrified the air, lighting the sky like Fourth of July fireworks. Minutes seemed like hours as hail pounded the tent and the wind ripped cloth from the support poles. A rockslide sent debris and stones cascading into our encampment. I feared for our team, exposed 1,200 feet above us and said a silent prayer for their safety. Then as quickly as it arrived, the storm vanished and the sun beamed golden light across the flower quilted landscape, hailstones the only signs of the chaos just moments before.
To our relief, our team arrives from high camp safe, exhausted and thrilled with their success. They had taken shelter in bear caves high up on the summit while the storm raged. The talus slopes were crawling with grizzlies eating moths like popcorn, eager to pack on the weight needed to survive the winter. Our team captured it all. It was a wrap, and the hardest scenes from Expedition Grizzly featuring Casey Anderson,-were behind us.
So how did a Junior. Leaguer of more than 20 years, room mother and child advocate end up as part of “Team Grizzly?” That is a long story that starts like this: A funny thing happened on the way through a bar. A chance meeting with a friend and an introduction to Leslie began a journey that has led me westward in search of unique grizzly behavior.
I am the production manager, and on any given day, that translates into chief cook, bottle washer, grip, soundman, editor, set designer, makeup artist … on a team as small as ours, everyone does whatever is necessary to complete the task at hand. I have found that the skills developed as Supermom and volunteer translate beautifully into the world of filmmaking. The concepts are the same: budgeting, project development and management, fundraising, team building, conflict resolution, consensus building and the occasional dispensation of motherly advice and hugs are all necessary for a successful project. Oh, yes, and naps. They are part of our corporate culture.
My business partners are extraordinary, their storytelling and production skills never cease to amaze. Their talents are unique, while mine are not, and I am grateful to them for allowing me to join them on this incredible adventure. Casey adds an entirely new dimension. His passion for his work and his knowledge of grizzly behavior inspire all who know him. It is a thrill and a privilege to have him as part of our team.
In my new career, I have traveled to wild and unexpected places, met amazing people, been kissed by a grizzly, rescued a golden eagle and taken my sixteen-year-old son, Elliott, on a shoot in the Yellowstone ecosystem. Sitting around the campfire one evening, Thomas laughed and said, “If my mother had taken me on a Nat Geo shoot when I was sixteen, I would have thought she was really cool.” Come to think of it, I would have, too.
^M
