The Full Race Course Fly Over...Where we will film this week!!

Check out the Full Course fly over released today. The 2011 Adventure Racing World Championships: Tasmania, starts tomorrow...and so do we!!! Cameras going to the field!!
 

Near Collision, Night Recon and Snake Rescue Plan

It was dark and he was coming at me fast. There was much room to move. Anticipating, I start veering right to avoid a collision. He keeps coming both of us angling to the right. There isn’t going to be any room to get by.  My brow narrows, senses heightened, we come in close on each other, at the last second I determine he’s not going to give me space. I swerve hard left careening of the hallway wall as my head spins right. Our eyes lock. His look says,  you’re an odd bloke. Apparently, Tasmanians walk on the left hand side of the hallway of the hotel as well as drive on the left.

We are still hold up in the hotel, well for at least 5-6hrs of sleep each night. The camera team is gelling well as we have already had about a 5 day adventure ourselves. We look forward to shooting in the bush, the actual race. We have one more day in town and then the race start. The teams get the maps tomorrow. Our camera team has already been over the course, by car, helicopter and on foot. The teams are in for likely the most amazing race produced in many years.

Erik's reaction to the course during a night recon.

The original plan for later in the race. “Erik. We’re going to drop you on the road at 5AM. Head into the bush on this section. It’s a really rugged section. When we flew over it looked epic mate. You're probably going to be in there 10hrs or more filming. Look for teams, travel with them, film the story, pop off, wait, find another team and we will pick you up at the end of the end of your excursion. Make sure you have all of your safety gear. If your bitten by a snake, apply a soft tourniquet, set off your SOS rescue beacon, don’t move to keep the venom from circulating and we’ll come get you, well eventually. Don’t worry mate, you have about 12-24hrs before you're dead.” Tasmania has three snakes. All three deadly.  The only snakes in Tasmania are deadly. It happens to be the beginning of snake season. Perfect.

Erik, Mike and Tim on a day time recon.

That was the plan a day ago. The new plan. “Erik, mate. We just talked to one of the guys who created the course. No way you are going in there alone. It’s to dodgy and dense. We decided you're are not allowed to enter the bush in that section without a team. Stay with them until you know where you are. Wait for another team and travel with them. If your alone out there, we will never get you back out. So, keep moving at a forward pace filming, and you must get out of there by dark. You must. Snakes are the least of your worries mate. Perfect.

Tasmanian Devil Ginger Beer!

I’m 30% excited, 70% scared. Getting lost or bitten by a deadly snake, both happen to be my primary concern. I love Tasmania. I am about to find out if I am as tough as I think I am.

Top Secret! Course Recon and Cameras

Exhausted and an early morning. I can't speak of my day as it is Classified under the title...We went over the maps and reconed 2/3 of the course. What can I share...Hope they are prepared.

Tim on the 5D with the 400 2.8!!

If you're really intuitive you can make part of the course in Mike's Sand map.

How are we going to shoot this long shot?

Erik explaining a top secret Tasmanian location.

Crayfish, Attack Leaches and Breaking the Law

Today’s advice: “I was standing for about 5 minutes in the bush and I had 6 leaches on my trousers. One of them mid thigh! Look out for those mate.” Camera man and colleague Tim conveys to me. “You’re going to need salt in your socks and rubbed on your shoes. But likely you are going to be covered in them anyways. You’re really going into the shit this week.”

Blogging for the 5 of you reading this. :)

In the midst of 80 teams of 4 descending onto Burnie Tasmania, likely over 400 people including media, life goes on. A misty morning in a the sleepy harbor of Stanly I catch a fishing boat slipping in to unload. Stacked high with wooden pots they begin raising boxes of crayfish or what I would call huge lobsters. Beautiful red and irritated they were destined for dinner.

Making our way back along the Tasmanian beaches I capture tidal pools, seaweed and sponges of amazing color, oranges, neon greens and muted yellow. Beautiful but redundant after about 30min. I wanted some action.  Something dynamic, a wild animal.

I decide the rocky beach area just in town might afford us some creatures. We heard penguins were around at times. If not, we can get waves splashing on rocks, I guess.

Stepping over the beach boardwalk fence on the rocks I work my way down towards the water. “Get out of there. Now!” My grandmothers voice calls out irritated. I turn to see a furious sweet older lady with an official name tag glaring at me. Startled I make my way up, away from the surf crashing behind me, to understand what she is saying. I stop just on the other side of the fence amongst some rocks with the sweet lady furiously insisting I, “Get out now!”

Right before the brilliant idea of going over the fence.

“I’m just walking down to the rocks. Is there a problem?” “Get out!, Get out” Wow, this woman is rather insistent and not one for taking pause for explanations. I ease myself out as she now calms herself. “I take it a can’t be in there?”

After listening to her, I study the area I was tromping through, deciding how I would film the endangered 8 inch tall penguins amongst the rocks of their fragile nesting grounds where I now notice the eggs.

Approximately 15 I’m sorries, I had no idea, and holding myself back from pointing out absolutely no signs anywhere to be seen, we are invited back for a private viewing of the penguins at dark, as they emerge from the ocean. She turned out to be a truly gracious  lady to a truly oblivious imbecile. As amazing as that might seem, I will have you know that penguins turn into little penguin statues, not making for good footage, when you cast a huge LED light panel on them.

I will search for action elsewhere. Maybe attack leaches will prove interesting in a few days. (photos to come later)

The state of Tasmania and the First Day of Shooting

Erik running back

SEATAC airport, Seattle USA. 125lbs of gear, not for a racer, just a camera man. I am prepared for anything. I'm apparently prepared for a place like home. Tasmania, by all reports from the guy in 29B, the weather is unpredictable, the land is covered in clouds, it rains very often, the bush is thick and the people are friendly and welcoming.

Flying into Sydney

Australians are very friendly and smile at you while telling you your luggage is late, and by the way, on a different plane coming in after you. They courteously point you in the wrong direction, smiling, and then gently tell you to go back to the other terminal, not this one. Always smiling, but no more clear on where I was supposed to be than I was.

Tasmanians are Australians. Who knew? I bet you didn't know. Tasmanians claim most Australians forget Tazzie is part of the country. Not surprising since most of the world thinks they're an island off of Africa. I was curious if they had a slightly different culture than the mainland.

30hrs of non-stop traveling, running between two plane changes and a drive, it was all exactly as I like it, very uneventful.

Landing in Tasmania I am greeted by a fruit sniffing dog, not the traditional Tasmanian welcome dance. There isn't one, I asked. "We are a state in Australia! Not another country." Oh, yeah. That's why no cultural dance.

Tim (left) and Anthony (right) Shooting Jude.

Erik shooting on Hawley beach in his new Television Jacket.

The rest of the production crew from NothingButShorts:International arrives in Tazzie. We load 22 bags of gear, traveling light. Really! We jump into three vehicles and set off to shoot.

We bang out some great PR shots for Tourism Tasmania so they can tell the the world what an amazing place this is. We shoot at Cataract Gorge, and Hawley beach working the bugs out and prepping. I think the world knows what an amazing place it is, the Tazzies just need to explain where it is.

Still prior to racers arriving in Tasmania, tomorrow we will shoot some more post card shots of this remote Country....State.

GMT+10, Chasing the Pack, Blood in the Sand and Sleep Deprivation

I awake to a steady drizzle gently buffeting the windows, its 11:30AM in Seattle. The finish of a great night of training. Tasmania is on the other side of the planet, UTC/GMT +10hrs, 41,25' South Lat 147,07' East Long. This requires a creative approach to sleep management. 


To keep up day after day filming adventure racers in extreme environments requires a significant level of physical fitness, the ability to suffer in one place for hours, ready to respond to the shot at a moments notice, and the ability to stay up for sometimes, days at a time. 


The extreme athletes are at the top of their physical and mental game. Many of the teams made up of national and world class athletes. They have amazing metal fortitude. They are focused, dogged, determined and tend not to have the gift for gab.

Trying to get one of them to talk to you, to give you that engaging sound bite, takes the same level of perseverance for the camera man. You won't get it, the comment, the exchange of conversation, the raw reflection of their feelings, thoughts, fears, unless you follow them, move with them, dissolve into the environment around them. Great footage of racing is exciting, being accepted into the pack to witness the struggle unfolding in real time is intense and gripping. "Get me inside your head. Don't tell me, let me listen" I tell them. When they stop looking over at you with leery eyes, continue talking instead of stopping abrupt weighing their next statement, when the allow you to witness the hunt for the next team they will look to pass, the re-negotiation of team hierarchy, you know your going to get the shot. 


You can't just wake up, walk into the bush and get in their heads. You have to train to gain this position. I am not a world class, national class or even a locally celebrated athlete. I'm ornery, determined and have the unique ability to suffer well. My training has not focused on times, medals, mastering a specific skill, its compiled with distance and pain, lots of pain. 


2AM and I'm out the door, Monday, heading into the Washington State Cascade range. Chew up 3,400 vertical feet, I enjoy a sunrise moment at 6,000ft and back to work by 11AM. Saturday 5AM, 17 miles alone, wet, and back to the family. 

Thursday, water temperature 54 degrees, wind driven white caps pulling me up and dropping me down on a bungee cord, the subsurface beach speeding up at my face as the ocean pushes at my back. Jelly fish float by and Lingcod skitter away. A Dungeness crab stares up in disbelief. The first millimeters of my my skin frozen numb. 2miles, done. 

I will be on the far side of the planet. Awake when I should be asleep. At 7PM, Seattle, I am ready. It will be a 10 hour training tonight, ending at 5AM. I walk through downtown covering a mile or more of hills in my Bruno Magli's. A shoe specifically designed for this training evolution. Deciding on a happy hour location I request Blood in the Sand. As my liver consumes the cocktails, I felt it was only appropriate to order liver pate. The hours pass by drifting into the evening conversation. Transitioning, I meet friends to take me into the crux of my training, They help me push over the wasteland of 2AM. At 3AM I find myself alone, putting myself back to work, editing, writing. Sleep stares over my shoulder beginning to embrace me. Training is over. It's 5AM! I am exhausted. I did it! Internal Clock strategically adjusted to UCT/GMT +10hrs, Tasmania.

Tasmania Research, Killer Ants, Genomic Confusion and Guns

What's going to kill me, infest me, lay eggs in me, poison me or not be treatable by modern medicine? These are always the thoughts at the forefront of my mind when I head anywhere internationally or domestic for that matter. I begin researching an area well ahead of time. Not only will I have to interact with the human natives, but I will likely find myself laying down in a camera position among the native fauna and flora, who don't like to sleep with strangers any more than the humans. This is where I find myself, deep in the research of Tasmania. Poisons snakes, spiders, ants, leeches, parasite ridden parasites: the tick, and a platypus. The environment and natives seem pretty benign. The mountains aren't even that high, topping out at 5,300ft.

Tasmanian Rain Forest

Recently I found myself in Idaho, USA at 7009ft. Wherever I go I tend to look for a way to incorporate an adventure training that may simulate what I might have to do to get into the area I will be filming. In Idaho I did my research as I always do. Scotchman Peak in the Cabinet Range. A small, foot hills of the Rockies kind of mountain with a rocky slab top and sheer cliff where you would expect a couple Mountain Goats hanging out eyeing the local females.

I always have to be somewhere next when I film adventure racing. The next checkpoint, the next valley, the next environment likely to squeeze the drama out of teams. This forces me to budget time against my ability to get through the environment efficiently.

I headed up the Scotchman trail head in the dark, about 6AM. I wanted to get to the summit at first light, the camera dictates this. It's not easy to shoot in the dark. I immediately started talking to myself loudly, like the crazy you step away from, giving him and his external conversation a wide birth. I was hoping this would have the same effect on...what did the research say?. The last few trail reports read like this, "This is Grizzly country. You've been warned." "I see bear up here every time." "Three mountain goats followed me for half a mile and came within 5ft." "I was charged by a Moose, horns down, when I startled him on the trail." I was counting on Grizzlies and belligerent Moose to be just as un-nerved by a babbling nut as anyone else.

Unfortunately the most dangerous creature out there in the Idaho pan handle was likely to put me out of my babbling misery. It was opening morning of Elk season for Riflemen. Look for the guy dressed in orange running wildly down from 7,009ft out in front of a Grizzly bear with bullets whizzing by him.



Scotchman Summit and back down into the early morning fog of the valley, the hunters resonating elk calls, some well performed and some poorly unrecognizable, mimic the diverse calls I expect to hear from the Tasmanian Forest. The Tasmanian Devil, prominent among forest sounds, has a blood curdling call (listen here) and would have me climbing a tree in retreat of this blood thirsty beast of a creature, except, once confronted by this furry little stuffed animal of 15lbs, I would probably cuddle with it.

Tasmanian Devil

It seems what I will find in Tasmania is not danger or disease, but isolated diversity, unique niches that have forgotten to evolve since the time of Gondwanaland. Or animals that haven't figured out which direction they are evolving in. Take the Platypus who's genome map indicates it is part bird, reptile and mammal. Map my genome they'll find out I am all of those adjectives that have been used to describe me. Not a good thing to know about ones self. Look at the Platypus. Think being the combination of two Oregon football teams is going to help his image?

The Jumping Jack Ant is probably the the most dangerous of the bad boys inhabiting the bottom of the planet. This B-Movie monster causes more deaths in Tasmania than spiders, snakes, wasps, and sharks combined, and I can step on him! Unless of course he runs across the same nuclear waste Mothera got into. Then the decision will be, clasp my face and scream to my imminent death or run my orange butt out of there.

Jumping Jack Ant

I will be looking out for cranky Tasmanian Devils, and charging Wallaby. I don't believe I will have to wander around talking crazy to myself, and as far as I know, although Tasmanians are said to be similar to Virginians, I don't believe its hunting season. Getting shot at and visits to the Tropical Medicine Disease Department, now off my list of "things to do", in this particular part of the world.

The high Sierras, the Grotto, bats and the 1i-XViro Team gets the call for Tasmania.

One month ago: It was proving difficult for teams to finish the full course of this Adventure Racing World Championships Qualifier. I had spent 11 hours up an amazing carved granite canyon in the high Sierra Nevadas of California, waiting for teams to start the accent. Teams never came. I later learn, it proved more strategic for the teams to skip the rugged checkpoint to make the finish line time constraints. From this canyon, I made my way out of the Sierras to a small dot on the map to await teams. I had slept one hour in the last 28 hours of chasing teams through the Sierras for the past three days and nights . I had no idea what I would find at this checkpoint, being a checkpoint near the end of the race. I was unsure if teams would reach it in time.

To make sure I would stay ahead of the teams I ran with my pack and camera in the silver pre-dawn glow, climbing steadily to a cliff outline above me. Moving fast I startle a group of large winged bats who launch themselves from the trees silently gliding into the dawn above me. I reach the cliff base and descend into the darkness of an enclosed grotto my headlamp illuminating basalt pillars and scraggly trees. A cacophony of birds descend upon me screeching, hooting, swooping close enough to feel their speed. Strange calls reverberates off the cliff, not avian in nature. I wonder if I will be spending time with the originators of these wild calls as I descend to the floor of the grotto. My headlamp reveals scurrying rodents, a Hitchcock numbers of frogs and skittering insects. This is where I will be, with my camera, for the next 8 hours as dawn pulls in the coming heat of the day. I will await the teams, await the shot.

That was four weeks ago in Northern California. We will soon be headed to Tasmania. I can’t imagine what type of imagery we will bring out of it’s temperate jungles and rugged shorelines, what strange creatures we will encounter, what dramatic action and incidents we will capture. As we lead into our departure for Tasmania I will give you an insight into the preparation, training, research and thoughts that will bring us to Tasmania. Once there I will give you a behind the scenes glimpse into the filming of the Adventure Racing World Championships and the experience of the 1i-XViro team.

A promotional video produced by 1iOpen Productions, home of the 1i-XViro team, showcasing Adventure Racing Team DART-Nuun. This video also gives you an exciting view of what Adventure Racing is.

1i-XViro team member Erik Nachtrieb captured an 8 hour adventure race in Vancouver BC, single handed. Produced by 1iOpen Productions. This video was produced to promote the new MOMAR Adventure Race location, in Burnaby BC, Canada.

Check out the trailer to the infamous web series "Mandatory Equipment" produced by 1iOpen Productions. Episodes #1 and #2 can be found at 1iOpen.tv. The series will give the audience entertaining insight to what it takes for a 3 woman and 1 man adventure racing team to train themselves physically, develop as a team, and conduct regular life as the team trains for an 600km 6 day nonstop expedition length adventure race, where every team member must complete the entire course together. It is rare for a female dominant team to participate in this sport and very rare for a team of this composition to race on the expedition level versus shorter-length races. Adding to the complexity of the team dynamic is two of the team members being over 40 years old and the youngest on the team, at 27 years of age, having never participated in a race of this nature on any level.