The Flight of Newfoundland: Filming Gannets at Cape St. Mary’s with Luka Sanader
A Wildlife Cinematographer’s Journey into the Wild Heart of the Rock
Into the Wild: Mastering an Unforgiving Frontier
Cape St. Mary’s isn’t for the faint of heart. Perched on Newfoundland’s Avalon Peninsula, this ecological reserve boasts cliffs that soar hundreds of feet above the ocean, sculpted by centuries of wind and salt spray. It’s home to one of North America’s largest colonies of northern gannets—tens of thousands of them nesting on rocky ledges and a sea stack known as Bird Rock. For Luka, capturing their story is a dream gig, but it’s no walk in the park.
Getting there means winding along narrow, unpaved roads that twist through fog-draped hills. The crew sets up camp in a landscape where the weather flips on a dime—one minute it’s clear skies, the next it’s swallowed by “the Cape St. Mary’s blanket,” a thick fog that can halt filming in an instant. Rain lashes the cliffs, winds howl at gale force, and the isolation tests every piece of gear and every ounce of resolve. “You’re at nature’s mercy here,” Luka says. “But that’s what makes it real. You don’t fight the elements—you learn to dance with them.”
The logistics alone are a feat. Hauling cameras, drones, and stabilization rigs to the cliff’s edge requires careful planning. Tripods must be anchored against gusts, lenses wiped clean of salt spray, and batteries kept warm in subzero winds. Yet, for Luka, these hurdles are part of the thrill. “Every shoot is unique,” he explains. “The unpredictability forces you to adapt, to think on your feet. That’s where the magic happens.”
The Gannet’s Dance: A Study in Precision and Patience
Northern gannets are nature’s acrobats. With wingspans stretching nearly six feet, their white feathers gleam against the ocean’s deep blue, accented by black-tipped wings and golden heads. They glide effortlessly, riding thermals with an elegance that belies their power. But it’s their dives that steal the show. Spotting fish from 100 feet up, they tuck their wings, transform into living spears, and plummet at speeds of up to 60 miles per hour, piercing the water with surgical precision. Seconds later, they surface, a fish clamped in their beak—a testament to their skill.
Filming this spectacle is equal parts art and science. “It’s not just pointing and shooting,” Luka says. “You study them—how they circle, how they signal a dive. You wait for that split-second when they commit.” Using high-speed cameras and drone rigs, Luka tracks their flight from cliff to sea, capturing every frame of their descent. Stabilization gear is key; without it, the wind would turn footage into a shaky mess. “Patience is everything,” he adds. “Miss the moment, and you’re waiting hours for another.”
Beyond the action, there’s a deeper story. Gannets are tied to this coast—its currents feed them, its cliffs shelter them. Luka’s lens doesn’t just chase the dive; it frames the ecosystem, from the fish below to the guano-stained rocks above, showing how every element connects. “It’s not just pretty pictures,” he reflects. “It’s about revealing the balance of life here.”
Beyond the Lens: Living Newfoundland’s Soul
The Rhythm of the Rock
Filming gannets is Luka’s mission, but Newfoundland’s heartbeat keeps him coming back. When the cameras stop, the real adventure unfolds. “This place gets under your skin,” he says. Off-season, when tourists vanish, the island reveals its true self—a quiet, resilient spirit wrapped in rugged beauty.
The crew bunks in a modest motel near the cape, far from luxury but brimming with warmth. “The walls are thin, the heat’s patchy, but the people make it home,” Luka laughs. Within hours, locals know your name, offering coffee and tales as if you’ve lived there forever. It’s a stark contrast to the cold cliffs—a human counterpoint to nature’s wildness.
A Taste of the Sea
Planning a wildlife film shoot in Newfoundland?
With established contacts at Cape St. Mary’s Ecological Reserve and connections to some of the most knowledgeable experts in gannets, seals, and Newfoundland’s diverse wildlife, we ensure seamless access to locations across the entire island. From Cape St. Mary’s to other incredible filming spots throughout Newfoundland, we can assist you wherever your vision takes you. We also offer a vast selection of over 800 specialized lenses through exclusive collaborations with expert providers, giving you every tool you need to capture stunning footage. Let us help you make the most of your journey into Newfoundland’s wild beauty.
Evenings with Storytellers
The Craft: Teamwork in the Wild
Luka doesn’t do this alone. His crew—his “second family”—is the backbone of every shoot. “Out here, you need more than talent,” he says. “You need trust.” From the drone operator battling gusts to the sound tech capturing the ocean’s roar, each member shines. They’ve hauled gear through mud, rigged lights in fog, and laughed through setbacks. “I’d trust them with my life,” Luka admits. “They love this as much as I do, and it shows in every frame.”
The process is meticulous. Pre-dawn scouting sets the day’s shots. Drones map flight paths, while ground cameras lock onto nesting sites. Weather apps are checked obsessively—fog can kill a shoot, but golden hour can make it. “It’s a puzzle,” Luka explains. “You piece it together, and when it works, it’s pure gold.”
More Than Footage: A Love Letter to Newfoundland
What started as a quest for “jaw-dropping shots” has grown into something deeper. “I used to think it was all about the image,” Luka says. “Now I see it’s the story—of the gannets, the cliffs, the sea, the people.” Each trip teaches him something new: a gannet’s first flight, a sunset that defies belief, a local’s tale that lingers.
The footage will spotlight the gannets’ majesty, urging viewers to protect this fragile ecosystem. But for Luka, it’s personal. “Newfoundland pulls you back,” he muses. “It’s the wildness, the warmth, the feeling you’re part of something bigger.” As he packs his gear, the Atlantic crashing below and gannets soaring above, he knows he’ll return. “This island’s in my blood now,” he smiles. “The Rock always calls you home.”
