The following article is an excerpt from Fortunas 56. To explore more fascinating FP stories like this, read the full issue: click here.
‘OK, everyone, settle please… and ACTION.’
My voice took a moment to reverberate around the cave chamber we were filming in. The air was stale, ripened by the smell of my crew and me. We’d been camped deep in the Lechuguilla cave system for four days, so we were basically family at this point.
With the cameras rolling, our cave expert, Dr Hazel Barton, carefully chipped a shard of popcorn-shaped mineral from the wall and dropped it into a test tube. As I watched my director’s monitor, Hazel swirled the mineral in the solution, and I had one of those out-of-body moments where I asked myself—’How on Earth did I end up here?’
I was instantly transported back to Form VI Biotechnology class at Dollar Academy. Dr Payne had us swabbing our cheeks, mixing cells and solution, when suddenly white strands appeared. My DNA suspended in the test tube like white cotton candy. That was a pivotal moment for me—biology suddenly became a fascination. The invisible, complex world that underpins virtually everything in our lives.
But the path to directing scientific documentaries
was far from straightforward.
Leaving school, I had no idea what career to pursue. I studied Forensic Biology, followed by a Master’s in Molecular Biology. I thought about a PhD, but they all felt too narrowly focused. Instead, I joined a scientific sales company. After nine months I knew sales targets and profits weren’t for me. One night after yet another quarterly meeting I sat on my hotel bed and thought: ‘I can’t do this for the next four decades, so what I am going to do?’ I still loved photography, and I loved science, so after some late-night Googling, I found the BBC Glasgow had an intern scheme in their science department. I applied and the following week I was accepted; I quit my sales job the next day.
Breaking into television meant starting at the bottom and earning my stripes, but I valued that. The best managers, I believe, are the ones who have done the jobs they now oversee. Then my first big ‘break’ came, six years into my TV career, when a big budget National Geographic Channel series called One Strange Rock was looking for a science-literate producer who was also confident on ropes. A director I’d worked with knew I was a keen climber and recommended me. Within weeks I was descending into an active volcano in the Congo, camping beside a lava lake.
Halfway through the shoot, the volcano erupted unexpectedly, lava bombs falling a hundred metres from our tents. We evacuated quickly, hearts pounding with adrenaline—’I can’t believe we get paid to do this,’ I thought. It was meant to be a one-off shoot, but I was fortunate to be kept on as a full-time producer on the series. After 18 months I was an experienced producer, but making the next jump to director is infamously difficult in TV. Little did I know the upcoming Lechuguilla cave shoot would be my chance.
The cave’s location is secret; the microbes that live on the crystals are highly protected.
We were only the second film crew in 12 years allowed access, the first being for David Attenborough’s landmark Planet Earth series. Lechuguilla spans over 230 km of passages—some, vast as cathedrals; others, so tight we had to contort through with our gear.
Base camp was seven hours of tough caving from the surface. On the first night of a week-long shoot, it became clear that the director was struggling with anxiety and claustrophobia. He hadn’t slept, his nerves frayed by the thought of having 500m of rock between him and daylight. By morning, he was no longer safe to remain, and the safety team helped him out. The responsibility for directing the shoot fell to me—a battlefield promotion. Luckily, as the producer I had months of planning, scripts, shot lists and logistics seared into my brain.
It was daunting, but the shoot went smoothly. We captured stunning footage of crystal formations, underground lakes, and microbial life hidden in the rock. Living in the cave for a week was both magical and surreal. Meals were freeze-dried packets eaten cross-legged on the cave floor and hygiene was… inventive. That experience taught me that opportunity can open a door, but only preparation allows you to walk through it.
Lechuguilla is just one of many incredible experiences in my TV career.
I’ve joined Sir Ranulph Fiennes and his cousin, actor Joseph Fiennes, on an expedition across Egypt; filmed in live minefields; and abseiled off Angel Falls in Venezuela. I’ve descended into ice caves, worked on Chris Hemsworth’s Limitless, and collaborated with countless extraordinary experts—each with stories as wild as the places we filmed.
Over fifteen years of making documentaries, I’ve been privileged to hear these stories firsthand—often not on camera, but afterwards, sitting around a campfire with a beer in hand. I realised they deserved to be shared more widely, and that many could inspire people to see careers differently. Along with my TV work, I now host a podcast called No Ordinary Monday, where I sit down with guests whose jobs range from the bizarre to the dangerous to the awe-inspiring.
For current pupils, I hope the podcast proves that careers rarely follow a straight line. Some of the most rewarding paths come from curiosity, persistence, and taking
chances. Former Pupil Ruaraidh McDonald-Walker (FP 1987) was recently interviewed on the show about his career as an Engineer in Formula 1.
And for fellow Former Pupils, if you’ve got an extraordinary career story you’d like to share, get in touch: www.noordinarymonday.com
Chris Baron (FP 2004)
