By Jill Heinerth
Underwater Canada used to be one of the finest consumer dive gatherings in the industry. It was there that I first met Wes, just over twenty years ago. A confident, animated soul in ostrich skin cowboy boots, he was presenting his exploration work to a rapt crowd, hanging on every word.
Standing around a bonfire at Camp Indian Springs some eight years later, I was still hanging on his tales, listening intently to stories well told. I was taking a break from activity during the 1997 United States Deep Caving Team Wakulla 2 Project. Wes was on site, filming for National Geographic. I had been running a Sony Mavica on my scooter into the depths of B-Tunnel for him. That evening, he approached me and said, “girl, you need to produce for me.” I must have looked back quizzically, as he further explained, “I want you to be a producer for me.” As anyone that has ever worked with Wes would realize, there is simply no way to decline, so I responded, “sure, what’s a producer?” Thus began a creative partnership that I will always treasure.
Fast forward a few more years and I was on a boat crossing the Southern Ocean to Antarctica. I was getting to know my other crew mates with whom I would share this two-month ocean odyssey. Dr. Greg Stone, our chief scientist, looked over my shoulder as I typed on my keyboard in twenty-foot seas. Cross-legged on a bench, I squeezed the precious laptop as we pitched and rolled. Eager to know where our story would take us, Greg politely asked, “Jill, how long have you been writing films?” I look at my watch and responded, “three days.” Whether it was the waves or the nausea of discovering his life’s work was in the hands of a rookie, the color drained from his face. He turned to Wes and looked like he wanted to be sick. Wes simply offered, “she’ll be great.” And that’s the way my apprenticeship went with Wes. Full immersion, every step of the way. I began working with him in the late 1990’s on various television jobs, frequently taking on a roll I had never done in my life. On one gig involving a nine foot alligator in a swimming pool, I was asked to create a fake wound with anything I could find at 3:00 am at an all-night Quickie Mart in Homestead, Florida. Two days later I was making a dorsal fin out of an old car mat and weather stripping and trying to drown Annette Slate in a simulated shark attack. With Wes’ creative shooting and confidence in his team, somehow we pulled these shoots off. He already had the vision before the camera was turned on.
And so in the past decade, we moved into the production of the Water’s Journey series together. As producer, co-writer and on-camera talent, these productions became a way of life for me. We got the incubator funding for the gig after using magic markers and crayons to storyboard the film on a 30-foot-long chunk of brown craft paper for the Secretary of Florida’s Department of Environmental Protection. He said he had never had such a confident but bizarre pitch for money in his life. For months on end, I lived in the Skiles’ yard in my travel trailer, commuted to Jacksonville for editing and moved in with Wes’ Mom. Terri Skiles was the foundation and stability that enabled our team to pack up the big white van, pile in and go trek through the Everglades, boat down the St. Johns, or swim under the Sonny’s restaurant. Every departure, peppered with the last minute search for Wes’s wallet and tender good byes to Terri, Tess and Nate.
Near death in an Antarctic iceberg; losing a wheel in the Yucatan; epic poison ivy on my inner thighs in the Everglades; punching a man on the Romanian set of The Cave; winning the International HD Film Festival; losing dear friends in the sport we all love; rolling my van at 65 miles per hour…I suppose I have experienced many of the most dramatic moments of my life with Wes. Scared, angry, elated and honored. In our director/producer relationship there were high and low moments, but always incredible love and respect when all was said and done. I will be eternally grateful for all of those moments. They represent the truest of friendship with my Redneck Brother. He gave me some amazing opportunities and encouraged me to aim high. I will honor those opportunities and follow his path; mentoring others, living life fully, knowing that nothing is impossible.
Photo of Wes preparing to shoot aerial footage from a flying boat for Water’s Journey: The River Returns by Jill Heinerth