Yuasa, a small coastal town in Wakayama Prefecture, Japan, is a fishing port and the producer of one of Japan’s most well known mandarin oranges, the Arida mikan. But a stroll through the traditional streets, including the only stretch of the famous Kumano Kodo pilgrim route that runs through the center of a town, takes you back to an age before westernization, when Yuasa was a vibrant hub of gastronomy in Japan. For it was here, in the 13th century, that soy sauce as we know it was first established and produced, and even now the streets are rich with the smells of fermenting soy sauce, still produced exactly the same way it was more than 750 years ago.
Family of 5 in a 1972 VW Camper Van exploring the South Island of New Zealand in April 2016.
Some great footage of Banff and Jasper National Park.
Théo Sanson recently slacklined across a gap spanning nearly a third of a mile in Utah.
The Walrus has more on the making of the film and this segment here.
MOSSOP WAS HOPING for rain when I visited him on location in Rossland, British Columbia, a small town plastered to a Kootenay mountainside. The film studies grad had spent most of the past two years living out of a truck stuffed full of cameras and tripods, a homemade crane, and several pairs of skis, and his hair was shaggy and unshampooed. While the rest of the town was out on the ski hill, revelling in the fresh snow, Mossop and J. P. Auclair, a darkly handsome ski pro from Quebec, sat forlornly in an empty coffee shop.
A few days earlier, they had begun filming a sequence that would make Auclair appear to be casually skiing through Rossland’s alleys, popping backflips over parked cars while an enormous nickel smelter at the foot of the mountain belched smoke in the background. To Mossop’s delight, it had been raining when they started, turning the snow grey and lending the scene a post-industrial gloom perfect for his purposes; to make it look like one continuous scene, however, the conditions had to hold, and unfortunately the temperature had dropped a critical few degrees.
“It’s puking,” said Auclair with a sigh, gazing out the window at the enormous flakes drifting down.
“Horrible,” Mossop agreed, raising an eyebrow. “We must be the first skiers on earth to be praying for rain.”
In Carl Sagan’s own words “Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. It is up to us.”