MOTHERLODE
Mantracker, beware our feminine wiles
October 12, 2009
Lorraine Sommerfeld
`Iwant you to go on the show Mantracker with me," I said into the phone. On the other end was my younger sister, Gillian. There was a pause.
"You want what?"
Forget all the silly shows with people being divided into tribes or living in some house until one of them kills the rest. Mantracker is awesome. It's Canadian. And I thought Gilly and I would be perfect.
The premise is basic: two prey (that would be Gilly and I) are released into a remote, rugged area in some awesome part of Canada for 36 hours. They crack a flare and you head for a finish line 30 or 40 kilometres away. Mantracker – Terry Grant – is mounted on his horse. Together with a guide who lives in the area, they chase after the prey.
Now, at first glance, the fact that the chasers get to be on horseback seems unfair. But they have no clue where the finish line is, so they have to do real tracking. Mantracker can scan a rocky vista and announce in a withering voice that the prey moved a pebble a centimetre off track 1 1/2 kilometres away. Or broke a small twig at ankle level.
Mantracker and his hunters are very cool. They wear cowboy hats, speak gruffly and aren't bothered if it starts to rain. Me, I am hoping for good weather. While rain may wash away our scent, it will make me sniffle and cry in misery, and he would hear us.
Those who audition for Mantracker are pulled from a wide cross-section of very sporty people. Navy SEALs, endurance athletes, martial artists, professional climbers and hikers. Everyone believes that he or she has the ability to outsmart and outlast Mantracker. Most of them don't even get close. But Terry Grant is totally bewildered by the way women think, which I decided would give my sister and me a competitive edge.
Why do I think we'd be a formidable match for Mantracker? Gilly does Wii Fit; I was a Brownie when I was 7.
I called my other sister, Roz, to let her know that Gilly and I were going to be TV stars.
"You want to go on Mantracker?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You just have a crush on him," she said. "You'll just lie down in front of his horse in the first 10 minutes and yell, `Here I am, Mantracker!'"
"I'm already choosing what I'll wear," I said, ignoring her. "I see silly people wearing neon. Like Mantracker won't see you right away. How many granola bars do you think we'll need?"
Gilly called me back the next day. I'd sent her the link to the show for some background.
"Um, you realize this is two days, right? And we'd have to hike 40 kilometres? And sleep in the woods?" she said, caution in her voice.
"What you see in an hour on TV takes two days to film. We're not going for a one-hour hike, you know."
"I know! It'll be great! We'll train. I will get new little boots now so I don't get blisters. Do you think you have to bring toilet paper?" I asked her.
"I think you call it roughing it when someone forgets to bring a blow dryer," she said.
"We have to do an application. I'll do that part, but we need a video. I'll tell you what to say, but mostly you have to sit there and look like a Marine," I continued.
"You're just going to jump out of the forest and yell, `Here I am, Mantracker!' aren't you?" she asked. I sighed. "Have you been talking to Roz?"
Lorraine Sommerfeld appears Mondays in Living and Saturdays in Wheels. Reach her via her website lorraineonline.ca.
Toronto Star