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.