And that's the way it happened

I am a method writer. No, really. If I want to write something classy, I wear pearls and skirts. If I'm writing scifi, I'll wear a onesy with slipper booties. When writing murders I like jeans and sweaters. Sometimes even fingerless gloves. But that’s when I write as the murdered.
And I background act. That's up close and personal research. I mean, how can I write so you, my dear reader, will see what I imagine? Therefore, if I can physically get there, I go and experience reality myself.
Here's what happened just last week.
I got offered an acting job on that Discovery Channel's Klondike miniseries that’s being filmed in Canada right now. Not a main actor or anything important like that. Just one of the crowd of people swarming to the Klondike to strike it rich.
I got cast as a society lady.
I knew that I’d be dying at 7000 feet. My agent told me. With maybe a scene in a fake Dawson City. A bit of walking. Nothing strenuous. For 3 days.
7000 feet, well, that I researched, just to see if I needed to bring anything special. Or there are any warnings about staying at that altitude.
Research comes back. Drink lots. Pee often. Breathe deeply to acclimatize. Move slowly until you are breathing smoothly. Dress appropriately for the season. Do not attempt anything you are not used to performing at your regular altitude.
Ok. I can handle that.
So:

0245:   Left home with plenty of time to get lost at least once and still make it to the bus pickup point. And yes, this is am.

0415:   I joined the rest of the crowd at a Walmart parking lot where we take a long bus ride to our destination

0600:   Arrive deep in the mountains before dawn, at the shoot Circus where all the production trucks are. Including our wardrobe area. Surprise! For 50+ background actors we have a tiny, 2-room dressing trailer, with enough space for another 4 to crowd in and dress as well. We crammed in 10. First day my clothing consisted of: leotards, socks, socks, pullover, pullover, onesy, long petticoat, long ruffled skirt, knee length coat, fur muff, gloves, a large hat, and old style leather soled boots, with no insulation. I carry a dainty velvet reticule. And we wear emergency transponders – just in case we fall into a crevasse or get blown off the mountain. Hair did a wonderful job of styling my waist length hair and attaching that sail-sized hat to the coiffure. Makeup added sunscreen and more bags under my eyes.

830            Breakfast. Unfortunately crew always gets first grab at any food. I managed a scoop of hash browns, a dried out sausage pattie and a piece of pineapple. And a glass of water. At least I got to eat something.

900            Climbed in an army surplus ice crawler, back pup. Now, I’m not very tall. I’m wearing about 25 extra pounds of clothing, with that long skirt and petticoat to hamper any maneuvering efforts. So climbing is not an easy task. I need many hands of help. But I succeed and take my seat. We get a lecture: the heat switch, the emergency signal and the talk about not opening that exit door.Ever. We’re locked in and the vehicle jerks away. There are small windows. We can tell there is little fresh air intake as those windows steam up within 10 minutes. We are thrown around as we drive deeper and higher into those mountains. I do catch a couple of glimpses of frightening valley slopes as we are driving above on a ridge, I assume.

1000        Or slightly later. I never wear a watch. I emerge, with help to find myself ¾ of the way up a grassy mountain – dead grass, nothing green at this time of year. The director and camera crew are already at the top. We backgrounders are instructed to grab backpacks, sticks, some men pull sleds, and start hiking up that mountain. It is windy. The slope is very steep. Remember I’m wearing slippery leather soled old-fashioned boots – ok I have something on them to try to keep me from slipping. I manage to stay at the back of the line. My skirt and hat keep being blown by the gusting winds; gusts strong enough that several times I find myself sliding towards the edge. The director decides he wants me in later scenes, so I’m sent down to where the ice crawlers and skidoos wait. Over 4 hours they stand in that wind on the side of the mountain. I stand near the crew, still on a windy part, don’t get me wrong. Craft comes – that’s food and drinks. All crew gather to eat. The mountain-top crew and director have drinks and snacks carried up to them. Someone actually offers me a drink and a slice of fruit bread. Background stretching up the mountain are given nothing! Filming goes on. Even helicopter shots which are fantastic to watch as the wind catches the machine and throws it around a bit in the sky. Around and around the peak that helicopter flies. I must admit, I can barely wait to see this film, because this shot will be fantastic!. Oh and many more. Background is finally allowed down and offered the remainder of the food, with, maybe by now, cold soup. And up some go again for more shots. Can I say we froze? Crew wore regular snow clothes, with thick, insulated boots and gloves/mittens, face masks, appropriate gear for the cold. Not for us backgrounders, though. We have to look the part. Mostly frozen!

1400        Skidoos are loaded with crew to return to Holding for lunch. Ice crawlers also. Now they come back for us. Yes, we are still watched by our background minder. And Backgrounders are finally released and climb aboard the ice crawlers. This time the windows don’t steam quite as quickly and I watch, terrified as we defy gravity down the mountain, and we get to Holding. Here we are instructed to wait for crew to finish eating. Of course. That’s the way the movie industry works. We backgrounders, we that make the scenes look realistic as we mime motions as if we’re really just regular people going about our daily lives in the background of a movie being shot. Without noticing it, no less. We are worthless. So we eat after everybody else. On whatever is left. If we can find a seat in the dining area, we are welcome to sit. But crew doesn’t leave many spaces where we wouldn’t get in their way, so we eat where we can. At least the day is warming. But now it is becoming icy underfoot at Holding. Bathrooms (2/sex) are available here. Only one was available up in that mountain. A dented johnny-on-the-spot type, bungy-corded to a very large rock so it won’t blow away. But that had been a skidoo ride away down the mountain and the one background actor who asked to go was asked to wait. We passed her ice crawler on the way down. Guess she managed to get someone to allow her to pee.

1530        We are sent up to another location, even steeper ride and arrive in a snowy vale way way up another mountain. We can see the first site from our exit spot. Now we walk in 2 foot soft snow – and who knows how many feet below that – about 150 ft, up of course, to an area where they want us to trudge up this mountain in a line. So, backpacks, walking stick – just a branch lopped off – snow cleats and try to walk. Some of the guys have sleds to pull again. And up we go. I manage to stay at the end again. I want a well-defined, solid path as I’m wearing longer skirts than anybody else. Now at 7000 feet, the air is strange. I breathe deeply, trudging up and I fall further and further behind. “Cut, reset!” the director screams, so down we go. The sun is shining and it is fairly warm. The snow is glazing into that nice icy crust and being packed down on every ‘reset’. I fall and bruise my rib. No I didn’t break it. I know that feeling. Just a bruise. But at that altitude, any injury is debilitating. I try to climb again and this time I just cannot. So I get a skidoo ride – my very first terrifying ride, and he said he went slowly! – back to holding where I see a nurse. It’s decided to keep me there for the afternoon to see if I can heal enough to manage my death scene the next day.

2130        Background returns. Changes into street clothes, hangs outfits up in this garage-type space with little heat. Onto the bus and to the hotel.

2230        Checkin at the hotel. Now there are about 50+ of us. Over half male, all younger than 35. The hotel checkin is manned by barely 20-yr-old tween mentality females. Maybe because I’m exhausted I do not appreciate them taking their time flirting with these males. The hotel rooms are in 3 buildings and I finally get sent to the farthest one. Now pickup is 0515, so I ask for a wakeup call at 0415, perform minimal ablations and drop into bed, too exhausted to eat or drink. My bad!

430            We are talking am. Second call rouses me. I find my coffee maker is the pod-type but the coffee left is for a drip. No time to complain. Shower, dress, all the while grumbling and make it to pickup at 0510. Coffee is available at the lobby, so I spill half a cup on myself as I head to the bus.

530            Head for Holding

615            Walk up the slippery road to Holding. Actors slated for death sent back to Wardrobe, of course down the hill again. Dress in: leotards, socks, socks, shirt, shirt, onesy, wet suit (one size fits none and it strangles me, so I’m duct-taped into it), waterproof booties, leggings, petticoat, skirt, jacket, fur neck muff, boots, gloves, gloves and reticule. And transponder. Can’t be on the mountain without it! Now I have to say that the wet suit crotch sagged down to just above my knees, making any climbing even more difficult. And back up to Holding for Hair and hat attachment, and Makeup – I have to look freshly dead after all. And breakfast. Yes I get to eat. And I drink a bottle of water. But I’m parched from yesterday, my lips are cracked, my skin feels dry and I have trouble swallowing. My rib still hurts. And I think every joint in my body needs oiling.

0830    Back into those ice crawlers and up, up we go to another location. We trudge through a valley, up another incline to the staging area. Crew is there before us, readying the area for the look of the aftermath of an avalanche. We stand in awe as we watch a very small, natural avalanche occur above us, near where the Miners have set charges for the film avalanche which is to occur later that afternoon or the next morning. When the mountain has been cleared of people and the weather clears – the clouds have fallen over the mountains and a light snow falls. My hat is taken, as I guess it doesn’t stay on my head through the avalanche. I lay in the snow, freezing (wet suits might keep me dry, but they don’t keep me warm). Snow is sprinkled over me many times. My gloves soak through. My ankle cramps. My toes cramp. I hear the camera going past many times, as the director hunts for the perfect shot. We are allowed up, cleared from the scene and we watch the main actors do a scene. Snacks and food are offered, though I am not hungry. Thirsty, yes, but afraid I’ll need to pee if I drink too much. The author is in attendance, and many crew crowd her to meet her. I see her from a distance.

1330    Back to Holding. I drink a little, have a bowl of soup, try to get my gloves dry and ask if there is a way to get my soaking wet skirt and petticoat dry. I’m told to suck it up, I have a wet suit on and others do not have that luxury. The gloves are dried, though. Thank you. And I ask for assistance to take a pee. Finally help arrives and I am unwound from my tape, undress almost entirely and manage to pee a little. Guess my body needed that liquid, so it releases very little. I am the holdup. Getting redressed into that very wet outfit takes time. But I join the few others, get pushed into the crawler and up we go again. I stand in awe of the director, two main actors, and some camera crew as they trudge 1/3 of the way up that mountain for a scene. We watch for several hours as they rehearse. Then background is told to walk another section of the mountain, with gear again, so we can be seen way in the background of the main scene. I try. Let me assure you, I try. But I DID NOT SIGN UP FOR THIS! No one told me I’d be climbing a mountain, in wet petticoats and now 45 pounds of clothing, in deep snow at 7000 feet. NO ONE! I’m not a physically active person. I’m pushing old ladyhood. I like my sports on TV. I’ll ride a horse, go for long walks in the country, or shop in the mall for several hours once/month. So I fell behind. Way behind. No way I could keep up with these young people. Not a chance. I turned around, ready to quit when the head minder for us backgrounder actors decided to pull me. He was so sweet about it. Said this type of scene wasn’t for everyone. But the show must go on. So he’d be sending me back. Now my minder (about 15 years my junior)  put on my skirt, coat and neck muff, had her hair quickly bundled up, the hat attached, the reticule emptied of my personal stuff and onto her wrist and she tried to catch up. I wasn’t surprised she didn’t make it. I heard her complain about her lungs burning and the skirt catching. Well? What did she expect? She excused herself by saying she had too many layers on. Her layers not only fit, but she didn’t have on as many inappropriate layers as me. No way!

1630    I am escorted, by skidoo again, but this time I have a helmet, back to Holding to grab my stuff, meet with the Circus manager who takes me to his office, I change back into my own clothes, I take a ride to the hotel to check out, meet up again with the driver, who is now driving the writer and her husband back to Calgary. So I do get to meet the author – Charlotte Gray - of the book the miniseries is based on - Gold Diggers: Striking It Rich In The Klondike. Awesome serendipity!! I know the rules, so mainly I stay silent and listen to her conversation with the driver – very informative for an up and coming writer, I will admit. But this is me! She asks a question and I have to answer. I open my mouth and my opinion of the lack of water, food and amenities along with the freezing conditions, for Backgrounders comes out in a gush. I bite my tongue and listen again, adding my piece about malemutes – I am a proud owner of one right now and one in the past – storing up info for another story I’m working on. And to her litany of the scenes she’s watched so far in ‘her’ story, the changes that she’s seen happen to her story. Very interesting. Very informative.

1930    Writer had been dropped off at her hotel. Dirver apologizes for driopping her off first, to my surprise. After all, the writer is the VIP and I’m just a lowly background actor in ‘her’ movie. I hadn’t expected to be off first, even though my location was closer. So we head to my car and I’m off. I think I dropped my book in her car – I will get enough energy to check my car later today I think. And I head home with a brain full of new scenery and information from an author on the front lines. Yes I did admit to her I wrote. And that my first book is about 6 weeks from publication. She asked my pen name and said she might look me up. Wow! Thank you. I must read her book. I like historical fiction books. I like Canadian history.

2200    Home, sweet home. I will never agree to any acting where I have to leave civilization. Nope. Ain’t gonna happen. But thank you for the experience.