TELEVISION
FT’s very own couch potato, STU NEVILLE, casts an eye over the small screen’s current fortean offerings
There’s been a welcome foray into cryptozoology by wildlife camera-people in recent years: I’d recommend Justin Chernipeski’s Expedition Sasquatch (Prime) as a great example of a professional film-maker treating the search as a standard assignment, combining the almost Zenlevels of patience required to nab the perfect shot with a refreshing lack of hoo-hah. From this milieu emerges Paul Mungeam, adventurer and cameraman, with Expedition Mungo (Quest). Against a deserty backdrop he addresses the viewer: “My name’s Mungo,” he says, “and I’ve been a cameraman for over 20 years.” He has a camera on his shoulder to reinforce this credential. It turns out that he’s heard some incredible things, so he’s going to set out with his camera – the one on his shoulder presumably – to get them on film. Cue action shots of Land Rovers, mud, jungle, rivers, pack horses etc. To his credit he’s looking for the lower profile, second division cryptids, particularly those with alliterative names – the Living Dinosaur of Liberia, India’s Monkey Man Monster – or things like the Dog-Headed
To his credit, he’s looking for lower profile, second division cryptids
Pig Monster of Namibia (maybe that was the PigHeaded Dog Monster. I don’t know.) In Episode four he’s after the Ucumar, or South American Sasquatch.
Walking among a milling throng in the Andean foothill town of Salta, his camera still on his shoulder, Mungo explains he’s there to find the truth. Local reports speak of a hunter who encountered a giant hairy man while fishing, so they have a natter. They quickly establish that it wasn’t a bear (apart from anything else, we know South American bears are three feet tall and wear hats and duffle coats) and the hunter believes it was a Bigfoot. Local biologist Professor Baravel speculates that it may actually be a much bigger brown bear, long thought extinct in the region, as it’s still more likely than an unknown ape. Undaunted, having heard from a local cattle herder about losing livestock to a particularly aggressive Ucumar, Mungo sets off into the scrub, and then further into the wilderness to meet with indigenous Cosha people, who agree to help him: as usual, these are the best people to speak to and are fully aware of the Ucumar’s existence. They dismiss the bear idea outright and agree to help find the best spot to snap the beast.
Camera back on his shoulder, Mungo, his squad (none of whom are called Mary or Midge, disappointingly) and a local guide traipse into the undergrowth, strap umpteen camera traps to trees and hunker down to await developments: sure enough there’s soon a noise to startle them – no such programme is complete without a “what was that?” moment – but the trailcam reveals it to be a curious tapir.You can’t fault Mungo’s methodology, and he does bring some obscure cases to the fore. And if nothing else, it’s lovely to look at.