The Lost Sea Expedition TV series is about a voyage I (Bernie Harberts) took across America with my mule. The series was filmed with only the gear I carried in my wagon – no film crew, support team or sponsor. I slowed down to explore a sped up world as only a man alone can do.
Out there in my tiny wagon, I filmed what I lived: tumbleweed gales, snow storms, the highs of Badlands Blue and the low of Prairie Fever. I lived among the people I interviewed – ranchers, Lakota elders, scientists, creationists and and every day folks.
The goal of my voyage was to capture the wandering life, explore a little known part of America, and bring the experience home to you. The Lost Sea Expedition does that. When it is complete you’ll be able to “walk” across the United States with me in 4 half-hour TV segments. Instead sound bite glimpses of county, like you get on some social media and the news, you’ll feel like you spent a year absorbing it first hand.
Still, the voyage isn’t quite done for me. I need to bring the TV series the final distance – get it paid for and on TV.
Turning the footage shot in the field in to a TV series has been a huge project. The Lost Sea Expedition is currently in production. It is being produced for public television which means I have to come up with all the money to make this happen.
This is where you can help. Please make a donation to help complete the series. Just $25 would buy half an hour of audio engineering. With your help, I’m confident we’ll raise enough money to finish this project in short order. I want you to see this series as soon as possible so let’s get going!
In the meantime, all the latest info about the voyage and TV series – from video shorts to where you can catch up with mule Polly and me – is in the Latest News section. Have you seen the one about the mummified….thing…
I grew up on a horse farm in North Carolina. Every Christmas Eve, my brother and I would stand on the back porch, after dark, and cock our ears toward the horse barn.
The barn was within earshot of the house. On a quiet night, you could hear the horses munching hay and moving quietly in their stalls. But that’s not what we were listing for.
Instead, our rapt 10 and 12 year old years strained to hear the voices some fairy tale told us we might hear.
The story went that, on Christmas Eve, all the animals in the barn – horses, roosters, goats, whatever – would talk about their owners. They’d say if the owners had been good to them. Taken care of them properly. Or overworked them and put them up hot.
My brother and I would stand there, in our pajamas shivering in the cold December night. Straining our ears for word of how we’d treated our horses. Was Snowflake, the pony he and I had each chipped in $25 to buy, telling Chutney the barn cat how my brother and I had thrown rocks at the bee hives? Was Milwaukee, the palammino, putting in a good word with Queenie, the grey mare, that he’d seen us two young boys nursing a baby bird back to life?
We stood on that oak porch, side by side, young ears straining, to catch the verdict.
I never heard what the animals in the barn were saying about us. I told myself then, like I do now 40 years later, that the only reason I didn’t hear is because they were speaking in low, hushed tones. Just like our folks did around Christmas Eve.
I still want that fairy tale to be true.
I wish you and all your critters a Merry Christmas Eve. Oh and keep your ears open tonight….