Early days for this blog but about time I did something about the early days of making this film.
A couple of months after Rupert and I had finally decided to ‘green light’ production of Standing with Stones, in early December 2005 I set off on my own towards Cornwall to do some preliminary filming and exploring. At that time Rupert was still living on the Isle of Man and logistically it did not make sense for him to make a special journey, especially as no script had been written yet. Most importantly, it was a chance to test the way we had chosen to work and to make sure that the motorhome we had bought really was up to the job of mobile hotel, office and camera car. I had invested specially in what I thought was the best camera for the job (given limited resources) – a brand new Sony Z1e HDV camcorder. High definition (albeit heavily compressed) to do justice to landscape and texture, lightweight enough to be carried up mountains along with the other gear and cheap enough so I could buy it.
Anyway, less of the geekiness.
On the right you can see a frame from the very first shot I officially took for Standing with Stones on December 7th, 2005. And it was here, about an hour before this shot was taken, that I got a glimmer of the special nature of the project we had taken on and the kind of extraordinary and privileged experiences that we had opened ourselves to. I had arrived in The Bus (our motorhome) before sunrise in order to get the early light.
I’ll never forget going through the gate into the field from the road and flashing my torch ahead into the field and just catching in the beam the still and immovable stones of the Merry Maidens, out there in darkness. The Merry Maidens is a well visited site, but just at that moment, I might as well have been discovering them for the first time.
There is no doubt in my mind that whatever they may have been used for in the past, these monuments have something to teach us – not necessarily about the past – but about ourselves and the nature of being human. At moments like that – and you never know when they’re going to happen – the stones have a power. As I said earlier, we humans get knocked for six when, if were really, really, really being honest with ourselves (and it doesn’t happen that often) we’re confronted with the truth that we can’t explain everything.
Be that as it may … I had a job to do and later that day found me in the pouring rain trying to film the fougou at the Carn Euny Iron Age village. Iron Age was a bit outside the remit we had set for our film – Neolithic and Bronze Age sites – but nevertheless, the Cornish fougous (click on word if you’re not sure about what a fougou is) are unique and are a distinctive part of the make up of the ancient heritage of Cornwall and it seems silly not to when you’re nearby with a camera. Carn Euny itself is well worth a visit though. Feels like it might have been much like living in Hobbiton.
The next day had me taking in Chun Quoit , Tregeseal stone circle and Boscawen Un. That evening I drove East to a new campsite on Bodmin Moor, ready to film at The Hurlers the next day. The Hurlers really is a fantastic site and I am sorry that more emphasis was not given to it in the film. The day after I drove to Dartmoor via the wonderful quartz circle of Duloe.
And Dartmoor is where it all very nearly went horribly wrong.
Satellite navigation is a wonderful thing. It can reduce the stress of finding your way about tremendously. I had borrowed a fairly state-of-the-art little sat-nav for this expedition and had programmed most of the sites I was visiting into it. So far so good and it had been a great help. The megalithic complex at Merrivale on Dartmoor is a fairly well known site and it was already programmed into the unit. So on the morning of the 10th December I set off from my caravan site on the East side of the moor and headed West into the heart of Dartmoor, guided by the little Navman device.
This is where I lost my faith in Sat-Nav. I now know that I drove within a 100 yards of my destination on a fairly main road but that the instructions (the nice lady) had me keep going. Eventually I was told to turn off to the left which I dutifully did. I should add at this point that the carburettor on the motorhome was playing up which meant that the engine was tending to choke under stress and lose all its power which was leaving me vulnerable going up steep hills. The other thing to add is that the roads in Devon get VERY narrow once you get off the main roads, with very high banks either side much of the time.
It was very early in the morning and there was almost no other traffic on the road – which was just as well because I was pretty well taking up the whole of the width of the road before too long. Nevertheless, the sat-nav was being unequivocal and told me to keep going. Which I did.
For miles. All the while expecting my destination to be just around the next corner.
At some point I began to realise that the road was getting even narrower and that I had been travelling so far along it that reversing would now be impossible. My stress level began to rise. If I could not find a place to turn around I was stuffed – forever up a lane that time had forgotten and wasn’t on a map anyway. It was at this time that I also noticed that the road was getting steep – if I stopped, I’d probably never start again. And then the banks on each side of the road were higher than the motorhome. And then the road was actually narrower than the motorhome – I could tell because of the scratching and banging sounds that were coming from the sides of the van. I was reminded of the scene in Star Wars when the Millenium Falcon escapes from the starfleet by flying into an asteroid belt. In fact, in lieu of footage of the event here IS that scene from Star Wars:
Yeah, EXACTLY like that. And no deflector shields. There were rocks and tree stumps sticking out of the bank – I thought the sides of the Bus were coming off. And I COULD NOT STOP. Unless I kept going, I’d be jammed there forever.
At last, miraculously, the lane ended in a farm gate that I was also sure was narrower than the Bus. Nevertheless I squeezed through and into a yard that I was just able to do a twenty point turn in and then – WENT ALL THE WAY BACK. On the way I passed the motorhome awning that had been ripped off the side of the Bus and now lay tattered in the ditch. I couldn’t even stop to pick it up.
Eventually I made it back to my destination – which I had passed before. I was nervous and I was sure the bus was a wreck, but the damage was far less than I imagined. This shot was taken later that morning and you can see where the awning has been ripped off but it is harder to see where the caravan doors are buckled and the scratches and smashed fibreglass mouldings on the sides.
The self portrait of me at the top of this post was taken barely half an hour after the event. I’m at the Merrivale Stone Rows, getting on with the job. The smile is forced – but I’m thinking not so much about what has happened, but what could have.
I could still be there.
