Movie producers scout Mississippi swamp

I’ve often wondered what it would be like to be a professional canoe guide. I got a sample recently when I served as Swamp Guide to the Stars.
On Tuesday, June 13, I assisted Scott Williams of Jackson in leading some Hollywood movie producers into a Pascagoula swamp to scout possible filming locations.
Our clients were Gary Ross, Robin Bissell, Diana Alvarez and Phil Messina, all of California.
Ross wrote the screenplay for “Seabiscuit” and authored such movies as “Pleasantville” and “Big.” Bissell was likewise involved in “Seabiscuit” and “Pleasantville.”
Alvarez has worked on a long list of TV shows including “The Highlander” series and “The Practice.” Messina’s credits include “Ocean’s Eleven” and “Ocean’s Twelve.”
They contacted Mississippi canoe guide John Ruskey of Clarksdale a few months ago. Ruskey referred them to me, but I was busy the weekend they needed to visit, so I referred them to Scott.
Scott and Travis Easley of Terry’s Creek took Gary and associates on a preliminary scouting trip. Last week, Scott enlisted my aid — in particular, my canoes and pickup truck — for a swamp trip.
Scott had located some good backwaters off the Pascagoula River south of Lucedale. On Monday evening I loaded three canoes onto my truck — two on a roof rack, one in the bed — and at 6 a.m. Tuesday headed east to meet Scott at a convenience store near Hattiesburg.
Scott was standing outside his truck talking on a cell phone. “They’re running late,” he told me when he got off.
We had planned to meet our clients at 8:15 a.m. at Rose’s Barbecue on Highway 49 just south of Highway 98. That got pushed back to 9.
We drove to Rose’s and drank coffee. At 10 they showed up in a rented SUV. Diana apologized for being late.
We drove to the swamp an hour away. As we surveyed a picture-perfect cypress lake, Phil and Gary expressed doubts. This was too open. Did we have something thicker?
Scott, who had already checked out the area, told them it was thicker on the back side. So we launched the canoes, Scott and I fielding questions as we paddled.
“Do alligators live here?”
“Yep.”
“Do they attack people in boats?”
“Not usually.”
At the end of the lake, I spotted a six-foot gator swimming, which prompted much excitement. It didn’t attack, though.
We landed and got out. Scott and I led the way, hacking through underbrush with machetes, our rubber boots sinking in the mud.
We found a fine stretch of dry swamp with cypress and tupelo gum. Cypress knees rose everywhere. Phil and Gary framed scenes with their fingers, snapped pictures with their digitals. Diana took photos of insects.
The irony of the scene struck me. In the past I have hired natives — Miskito Indians, New Guinea tribesmen — to lead me into the jungle. I recall Miskito guides, carrying machetes and wearing rubber boots, waiting patiently as I snapped pictures and marveled at the scenery.
Now I was the native.
Meanwhile, Gary and Phil discussed scenes they would film. Gary asked me not to reveal the topic since the project is in its early stages, but it sounds interesting.
As we returned to the boats, I pulled out my little banjo-mandolin, which I had brought along for ambience. Sitting in the back of a canoe, I picked “Bonaparte’s Retreat,” “Old Joe Clark,” “Lost Indian.”
I looked up to see the group listening appreciatively. Or maybe they were thinking about “Deliverance.”
Back at the truck, our clients whipped out their cell phones while Scott assembled the lunch they had requested: wheat bread, pita bread, hummus, turkey, roast beef, baby Swiss cheese, cheddar, Dijon mustard, lettuce, tomatoes, regular and salt-and-vinegar chips, carrots, celery, cucumber slices, Planter’s Deluxe Assorted Nuts, beef jerky, Diet Coke and bottled water — a bit fancier than my usual sardines and crackers.
We scouted more lakes. At 4 p.m. Gary declared the trip a success.
We shook hands all around and said we hoped to meet again soon. These folks had been fun to be with.
Then I began my long trip home, arriving at 8:30 p.m., 14 1/2 hours and 365 miles after I’d started.
As I unloaded my canoes and gear in the dusk, being a professional guide didn’t feel quite so glamorous.