NETFLIX Our Great National Parks - Eps. 5 Mt. Leuser: Sumatran Tiger

This was the longest shoot I’ve ever done in a single stretch—10 weeks straight, up in the mountain. The journey to our filming location alone was a challenge. It took us 10 days of trekking from the nearest village to reach it. The route was relentless, taking us up and down steep hills, across wide rivers, under tangled roots, and over precariously thin branches that hung above creeks.

Marching alongside me were 35 porters, each carrying at least 30 kilograms of equipment. After those ten exhausting days, we finally arrived at the location. We decided to establish two camps: one for filming, which we called the filming camp, and another, about an hour’s walk uphill, as the supporting camp for the rest of the crew. The choice of location wasn’t random; it was based on a previous trip where we deployed dozens of camera traps to identify tiger hotspots.

At the filming camp, I set up a small, 1.5-meter square dome tent designed specifically for filming. It had four zippered windows for the camera lens and one door at the back. Behind this tent, I pitched my sleeping quarters, a tiny A-shaped tarp tent, just big enough for one person with a small space under my feet to store food and supplies. Everything was camouflage-coloured to blend into the surroundings. I scattered grass and shrubs around my tent for added concealment.

A picture of my filming tent taken by the trail camera I set up next to it.

An A-shaped tarp tent for me to sleep in, including everything I need to stay for 10 weeks.

I had a very simple living setup yet functional. A folding cot to sleep on, lightweight cooking equipment, a folding table, and a duck-down sleeping bag to keep warm. The elevation of our camp was around 3,200 meters above sea level, where everything was wet and freezing. Even during the day, the temperature barely reached 15 degrees Celsius, and at night, it would drop to 3 degrees or lower. I had to wear layers at all times to stay warm. Some mornings, I’d wake up to find everything frozen, including a thin layer of ice on the windows of my tent, which I had to scrape off just to get out.

My daily routine was monotonous but focused. I’d wake up at 5 a.m., prepare a simple meal and coffee, then settle into the camera tent. I’d spend the next 13 hours or so sitting there, camera ready, waiting for a tiger to appear. By 6 p.m., as the last light faded, I’d wrap up, prepare supper, and get some rest. Meals were nothing fancy—just porridge and dried mixed fruits, the same for breakfast and supper.

In addition to the main camera (RED DSMC2 Gemini, Canon 50-1000mm CN20 on Sachtler Cine30HD) , I had a few camera traps nearby that I checked weekly to monitor the area. These provided crucial insights into the activity around the camp. The supporting crew, stationed at the camp on the other side of the hill, would come by every three or four days to deliver fresh batteries and supplies. Communication between us was minimal, relying on radio and satellite phone only when necessary.

A zipper window that I used to point my camera out of while filming. Canon CN20 50-1000mm on RED DSMC2 Gemini.

A camera trap setup that I used to film the tiger, strapped to a tree trunk and facing a potential animal track. Inside is a Sony A7S II with a Nikkor lens. There's also a small trail camera below it as a safety backup.

The first week was one of adjustment. My filming hide was situated near a hiking trail that led to Mount Leuser, but due to pandemic restrictions, the track had been closed for nearly a year by the time I arrived. The area was eerily deserted, which only added to the sense of isolation. During that time, I made several trips back and forth to the support camp, ensuring everything was in order. I also spent time setting up basic amenities, such as finding a suitable spot for a toilet and working out how to shower using a 25-litre water bag filled from a nearby pond. Despite the solitude, I felt a mix of calmness and nervousness, especially knowing I was completely alone in the jungle.

By the second week, I was in total isolation, with no sign of other people. The reality of my situation began to sink in. I found myself on edge, constantly looking over my shoulder whenever I left the tent to relieve myself or check the camera traps. Even the rustling of leaves or the sound of a branch snapping would send my heart racing. To cope with the overwhelming sense of solitude, I began to personalise my surroundings, giving names to the stones, trees, and bushes around my tent—naming them after friends to create a sense of familiarity. Surprisingly, this helped ease my anxiety, and I began to feel more at peace with my environment.

During the day, while waiting in the hide, I occupied myself by reading a book I had downloaded before the trip. This helped stave off boredom, but I always kept my ears open, as I could often hear animals approaching before I saw them. For the first four weeks, I managed well enough until I encountered a group of illegal hikers who stumbled upon my filming area. They even took selfies in front of my tent, completely unaware that I was inside. At first, it was amusing, but as their visits became more frequent, it started to irritate me. I reported the issue to a national park ranger, but given the vastness of Leuser, it was nearly impossible to stop them. The constant human disturbance was not only annoying but also potentially driving away the tigers I was there to film.

A mesmerising sunset view from the hill where I set up my filming tent.

What it looks like from inside my filming tent.

As if the hikers weren’t enough, a severe thunderstorm hit, lasting seven days without respite. The storm made it impossible to charge my devices, including my satellite phone, and the strong winds nearly collapsed my tent. I spent one particularly harrowing night holding the tent up, protecting my camera equipment, and hoping it wouldn’t all come crashing down. When the storm finally subsided, I found my filming tent had tipped over, and the camouflage we had carefully constructed was scattered everywhere. The ground had turned swampy, and the cold was biting. With the help of the support crew, who arrived after a treacherous hour-long trek, we spent an entire day rebuilding the tent and restoring the camouflage.

During the storm, I received a satellite phone message from the basecamp in the village, which was about a week’s walk away. They informed me that a team was being sent to deliver much-needed food supplies, as I had been in the jungle for a month and was running low. I let them know about the severe storm that was still raging in the mountains, and it delayed their arrival by two days.

Despite the setback, the team eventually reached the supporting camp location safely. After dropping off the supplies, they stayed overnight at the supporting camp before beginning their five-day journey back to the village. Having those fresh provisions felt like a lifeline, especially given the relentless conditions I’d been facing.

Packs of mixed nuts and dried fruit.

A few days after the storm had passed, I resumed my vigil in the hide. I sat with my camera ready, staring out of the filming window for hours in the drizzle and mist. My attention was caught by movement to the left, where I had a small window that allowed me to peek outside and view one of my camera traps positioned near the bushes. Initially, it was too obscured to make out, but as the movement became clearer, I discerned a black and yellow pattern emerging. My heart raced—there it was: the tiger!

I was both thrilled and paralysed with excitement, unsure of how to react. The tiger lingered behind the trap for a few seconds before vanishing into the bushes. I hoped desperately that the camera trap had captured something. Once the drizzle had lessened, I cautiously approached the trap, moving slowly and staying alert.

To my dismay, when I reviewed the footage, it showed nothing but a clip of rain and dense vegetation. The tiger had triggered the trap, but it had merely sat behind it for a moment, relieved itself, and then disappeared. It was incredibly frustrating to come so close yet end up with no footage of the tiger.

After five weeks in the jungle, I still hadn’t seen a tiger. The only evidence of their presence was from the camera traps that we got from the first trip, which captured images of a tiger roaming near my tent. Encouraged by this, I decided to stay longer, hoping for a sighting through my filming window. However, the weeks dragged on with no success. The constant disturbances from illegal hikers and the aftermath of the storm made me question whether the tigers had been driven away from the area.

As we approached the seventh week, the team and I decided to move to a new location, hoping for better luck. The move was challenging, taking almost a week to complete, and I soon discovered that the support crew had left me alone on the mountain without notice. Apparently, some internal drama had caused them to walk out. I was now truly on my own, waiting for the replacement crew to arrive.

The new location, though slightly lower in altitude, offered a more open filming window and was free from the disturbances that plagued the previous site. The landscape resembled a mountain savannah, with low greenery and plenty of animal tracks. I set up my tent on a hill with a clear view of my surroundings, hoping this would be the place where I would finally capture footage of the tiger. Despite the promising environment and fewer disturbances, the tiger remained elusive. The pressure was intense, knowing I only had two weeks left to get the footage we needed. Every morning, I convinced myself that today would be the day, but the rain and constant drizzle made it difficult to stay optimistic.

Determined to improve my chances, I worked hard on being completely silent. I even practised zipping my tent as quietly as possible. Despite these efforts, the tiger remained out of sight. As my filming period came to an end, there were no new tiger tracks around, and my trail cameras showed no signs of the animal either. The quietness was palpable and somewhat disheartening.

In the end, we wrapped up without capturing any footage of the tiger. It was disappointing, especially after such a long and challenging expedition. But I understood that finding a tiger in such a vast and wild place was always going to be a matter of luck. The producer reassured me over the phone, emphasising that the safety of the crew was more important than getting the shot. Despite the outcome, I was proud of what we had accomplished. The experience was invaluable, teaching me about resilience, the unpredictability of nature, and the importance of being prepared for anything.

Ten weeks is a significant stretch of time to spend in such a remote and isolated location. When I finally emerged from the jungle, I was floored to discover how much had happened while I was cut off. I hadn’t even realised that COVID vaccines had been rolled out, let alone that my mum had already had her two doses. It felt like a whole world had moved on without me.

And let’s not even get started on the food situation. After ten weeks of nothing but mixed nuts and oatmeal, I was about ready to trade anything for a decent meal. It felt like I was on the verge of seeing chicken become an endangered species in my diet.

A few months later, I was sent to a different location where I finally managed to capture footage of a tiger, albeit only three minutes’ worth. It wasn’t a zero-sum game after all. Reflecting on the entire experience, I’m grateful for the opportunity to be part of such an extraordinary expedition. It was a privilege to attempt to film the Sumatran tiger, and though it took more than just luck, it’s a journey I wouldn’t trade for anything.