Made by an Aussie who set out to surf the west coast of the Americas, The Road to Patagonia features awe-inspiring shots of beaches in the middle of nowhere, campfires on snow-capped mountains, starry skies in the desert, and surfboards strapped to four charismatic horses.
And while this incredible footage spanning over an entire 16 years is deserving of a watch all on its own, the doco really is a lot more than that. Hence the contemplative, heavy silence that fell over our team when the screen went black.
Some of us sobbed more than others… but don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a sad or emotionally exhausting film at all. Actually, it’s rare to feel so inspired after sitting in front of a screen for so long.
It’s easy to see why each of us latched onto the story of Matty Hannon – an ecologist from the north coast of New South Wales who is left feeling overwhelmed, uninspired, and diagnosed with clinical depression after a tedious life in the city.
Everyone has their own ways of dealing with monotony, but his solution was to spend a few years travelling the coast that stretches from the top of Alaska all the way down to the tip of Patagonia – which is as admirable as it is absolutely insane.
While he set out to merely document the journey, Matty ended up telling a deeper story about humanity and our connection to nature – a premise that came about by surprise after he started talking to the people of the land, living an adventure on a daily basis, and even falling in love along the way.
As you probably already know, we are avid fans of unhinged surfing trips, so we were pretty quick to grab tickets to one of the first screenings of the film’s national Q&A tour.
Here, Matty informed us that the unflinching themes of the doco came later in the editing process, and that it took a long time before they were able to distil them.
“It’s hard, because when you’re out in the middle of nowhere on the back of a horse experiencing an incredibly animate moment with a girl you love, you don’t really need words to communicate that shared feeling – you’re intuitively connected to each other and the world around you.
“Especially if you’ve been doing that for months on end – you’re immersed and leaning into a different way of life. But to communicate that feeling through a digital medium on screen to an audience in a dark and insulated cinema is tricky.
“Fast-paced, modern lifestyles have removed a lot of the language necessary for exploring our connection to nature, or the universe… or whatever you want to call her.
“That’s where long adventures into the wild can help. The isolation is grounding, the people you meet turn your world upside down, and a lot of the bullsh*t, if you let it, can fall away.”
After studying ecology at university, Matty moved overseas to explore the rainforests and traditional culture of Indonesia. It was here that he became infatuated with understanding humanity’s place in nature and, of course, the heavenly waves of the Mentawai Islands.
Amidst the jungles and beaches of West Sumatra, he spent the next five years surfing, painting, engrossing himself in the lives of local tribes, and existing happily in a thatched hut.
Really, it’s no wonder returning to the city was so crushing for him. I think if we all took the chance to experience such a simple life, we would never go back.
While Matty originally picked up a camera to show his friends and family why he kept delaying his trip home, shooting the islands also led to his love of documentary filmmaking. Not just the cinematography, music, or storytelling, but the way it inherently brought him closer to people.
We all wanted to know how on earth Matty was able to fully immerse himself in the surf, wilderness, and societies of so many foreign places, which is why I was stoked to have the opportunity to chat with him about it.
He told me that, while his favourite places to live are in the subtropics, he loved visiting the cold and extreme environments in Patagonia, British Columbia, Alaska, and Peru.
“Mentawai will always keep calling me back. I left my heart in the tropical rainforest there, especially when you can hear the call of the Bilou gibbons in the morning, but I suppose I was always intrigued by the wilderness of Alaska, the steamy tropics of Central America, and the towering Andes mountains.
“Just knowing there was a traversable coastline that long in the world, that also copped swell all year round, was enough of a reason to grab a board and go.
“Surfing in Alaska was unique because I was alone, surrounded by huge mountain ranges capped with glaciers and snow. The best waves we had on the trip were probably the hissing tubes of the Baja peninsula, the perfect point breaks of El Salvador, and the endless lefts of Chile.
“I was scared at Mavericks beforehand, and pretty nervous at Todos Santos too. I was even spooked out of the water a few times in Alaska and Oregon by the wildlife, but generally speaking, I enjoyed the different characteristics of each break. It made surfing even more interesting.”
The terrifyingly beautiful is something you get used to seeing in The Road to Patagonia. As soon as the film fades onto screen with a kombi van crash on a scenic highway deep in the Alaskan tundra, it’s clear that Matty’s ambitious journey is going to be one stunning, chaotic ordeal.
From torrential weather, dead ends, and a stolen motorbike to the looming threat of predators, the doco certainly keeps you on the edge of your seat.
But it also does what it sets out to do – capture the greater sense of freedom, spirituality, and happiness that comes with living on the land, while still showing how hard it is to remain off the beaten path, especially in such a modern age.
As frightening as a solo 50,000-kilometre surf trip sounds, you’d be pleased to know that Matty wasn’t alone for the entire journey. In British Columbia, out on the waves of Vancouver Island, he met Heather Hillier – a permaculture farmer with a passion for climbing, growing cabbages, and surfing.
While the pair’s love story is by no means the central focus of the film, it does make for a heart-warming throughline. It’s also refreshing that the doco doesn’t sugarcoat the problems that come with having a life-changing adventure as your first date.
Camping, exploring, foraging, and living freely on nameless beaches and forests with someone you care about does sound pretty nice though, especially when you can surf some of the most surreal breaks in the world together.
Unsurprisingly, Matty told me they preferred to use surfboards that have a bit of a unique flow to them.
“Having said that, we did have one thruster on the trip with us, but none of the waves we surfed it on made the film. I had a high-volume Corey Graham shorty five-fin set up, but I mostly rode it as a single fin.
“I also had a 7’2” Corey Graham six channel widow-maker for when the waves got big or really good, and that board was amazing. Heather had a Mini Simmons styled twinny that was heaps of fun. We shared the boards between us.
“All three boards made it from the beginning of the trip until it’s end, and I even took the 7’2” to Indonesia last year, where, after nine years of surf adventures, it held its own really nicely in the eight-foot swell of Lance’s Right.”
Of course, Matty and Heather rode out their journey on more than just a few surfboards. Luckily for us, after growing sick of leaving tyre tracks and plumes of petrol behind them, they eventually downshifted from motorbikes to riding on horseback.
Oh, those horses. If you asked anyone what their favourite part of the film was, they would most likely say Blacky, Pichi, Salvador, and sweet old Harimau. They simply made the film as memorable as it was, with their experiences being as entertaining and touching as the couples’ were.
Matty explained it best when he said the horses amplified their emotions throughout the entire trip.
“If we were stressed or impatient, the horses would sense that and become uncooperative and moody. If we were tired, then they would have been tired too. We were all going through it together.
“After six months of living and sleeping alongside the horses, we knew their personalities down to a tee. They could be so funny, cheeky, defiant, and even dangerous. Blacky, our lead mare, almost killed me early in the trip with a double barrel kick aimed at my head.
“I jumped backwards at the same rate her kick was coming towards my face, and everything went slow-motion in a full matrix moment. I saw her hoofs two inches from my nose as I flew through the air, before landing flat on my back, unharmed. That taught me a lot.”
Near-death experiences aside, it was clear that by the end of the journey the odd bunch of travellers were like a herd – wherever one went, the rest followed. While the horses helped carry Matty, Heather, and their things, the couple ensured they were safe, fed, and cared for.
Due to their unpredictable temperament and strange fear of surfboards, Heather was apprehensive of the horses at first, but agreed they were the highlight of the entire trip.
“They shrunk our perspective, which feels dangerously insular in this age of data overload, when we’ve been told that the more information we have, the better.
“The horses forced upon us a local dependency on the land above all else, but also on the communities we passed through, and each other.
“We were constantly aware of swales in the landscape, as a tiny creek running through it might be our only water for the day.”
Completely reliant on each other, far from the conveniences of modern life, and with no room for personal space, it’s certainly impressive that Matty and Heather handled the journey as well as they did.
Although it wouldn’t have been easy, it was uplifting to see the pair have complete trust in one another throughout the film, even when things didn’t go as planned. Maintaining a healthy relationship is difficult enough, even without having to constantly film each other and live out of a tent for two and a half years.
Matty said there were a lot of individuals who added something special to the doco, but without a doubt it was Heather’s tenacity that made it special.
“She’d never even been dinked on a motorcycle before she sold her business and bought a 500cc bike in Mexico, rode into South America with me, and said yes to a relatively dangerous horse expedition.
“She let me film really intimate moments of her, she learned how to use a camera and interview people, and she put up with me through the thick of it.”
The further Matty and Heather persevered, the more The Road to Patagonia’s identity began to take shape, as for every scene featuring lush rainforests and the vital connection between humanity and nature, there is another revealing kilometres of deforested, exploited land.
It’s a confronting perspective, which only hits harder when the couple rides further south, passing through a myriad of seaside and mountain villages filled with people far more in tune with the earth and their ancestors than many of us would be used to.
Each of these Zapatista rebels, Amazonian shamans, and Mapuche leaders describe the harsh consequences of today’s dominant systems, and how their ancient lifestyles have conflicted with the modern attitude that humans are separate from, and even superior to, nature.
After stumbling into so many welcoming cultures, all with their own words for things far beyond the English language, we were curious how the pair came to understand and empathise with the people they interviewed on their trip.
Matty told me he didn’t understand everything that was said, at least not until they translated the footage later in the editing process.
“I speak reasonable Mentawai, fluent Indonesian, and at the time pretty decent Spanish. Heather’s Spanish was really good by the end of it. We both made a big effort to learn the languages where we could.
“There are definitely concepts in the film that don’t translate well into English because our culture has loaded them with connotations and denotations. Words like ‘spirit’ and ‘ancestors’ suffer from this, so it’s hard to translate some of the concepts from the animistic people we met and spoke with.
“Very often, when you’ve developed rapport with people and you sit them down in front of a camera, they’ll open up deeper than they would in conversation. It’s such a beautiful thing, that offering of vulnerability.
“As a filmmaker, you have the privilege to help them share that story. It comes with a lot of responsibility, but without a doubt that’s my favourite part. Often, we used music, imagery, and the ‘feeling’ of the story to convey those ideas, rather than over-explain them with words and language.”
That’s the great thing about The Road to Patagonia. As such a passionate dirtbag production, it excels at communicating ideas like animism – the belief that all things, places, and creatures have some kind of spiritual essence.
It’s a gorgeous-looking film, simply because what you see is what you get – nature and humanity in its rawest form, with few fancy techniques or overcomplicated edits to mask that.
To that end, I was both surprised and delighted to hear that the cameras Matty used were relatively cheap by today’s standards, and even archaic by today’s average video specs.
“I used DSLR cameras for the most part – a Canon 5D Mark2 and a Sony A7s. Most phones shoot better footage these days. Actually, I even used phone footage in the film a few times as well.
“People get so hung up on the tech, like the best films are shot on RED or whatever, but at the end of the day, the best cakes aren’t baked in a particular oven. It’s story over everything for me.
“I had a drone at the start, but at one point it was stolen and I lost all of the footage along with it. Funnily enough, I’m now stoked we don’t have any drone footage in the film. It’s given the scenes a close and personal feeling.”
Shooting the Road to Patagonia was one thing, but editing it was something entirely different. After arriving home in one piece, Matty lived in an old rusty caravan, trading work on a nearby farm for free rent so he could afford to continue editing the film.
As it turns out, the difficulties Matty faced on his precarious journey across the length of the world paled in compassion to waking up and summoning the motivation to sit at a computer for up to ten hours a day… for four years straight.
Hearing this, my heart certainly broke for him. Thankfully, with the help of a small team, he eventually figured out how to turn 16 years of footage into a one-and-a-half-hour documentary, which Matty said was the gnarliest puzzle.
“Editing was tough, but getting funding for post-production was an elating milestone, as prior to then, everything had been such a battle.
“A highlight was discovering the language around animism. That was a big breakthrough. Then, Daniel Norgren offered to provide music for the film, which was incredible. He’s so talented and evocative.
“I knew then, seven years in, that we were gonna make a special little film. I’d never make it again this way in the future, but ironically, the difficulties of this film are also its strengths. The harder it got, the more the film benefitted.”
Benefitted is an understatement. Actually, despite its humble status as an indie film, The Road to Patagonia has sold out a majority of its Q&A screenings, receiving a myriad of awards along the way, including Best Film and Best Documentary at the Byron Bay International Film Festival, Audience Choice Award at the Florida Surf Film Festival and a whole lot more.
Considering how many people have rallied behind the film, I can only imagine the waves it will make when it’s finally pushed out internationally and digitally later this year. For those interested, the doco is screening in select cinemas right now.
I think I can speak for the entire team when I say that we all highly recommend it. Really, only good things can come from a grassroots surfing production made with the very best intentions over a period of 10 years. It’s an incredible thing to watch.
When asked if the overwhelmingly positive reaction has stirred up any emotions for him, Matty said he couldn’t be more stoked with the feedback they’ve received so far.
“A lot of people have told us it’s really got them thinking about their own lives and assessing where they want to spend their time on this planet.
“Some people have said it’s been a catalyst for big change, like selling their house and following a dream. I’m just really happy that it’s stimulating conversations.
“Despite investigating themes of colonialism and globalisation, the film aims to instil an uplifting sense of hope and positivity in the audience. In a way, I hope it’s a small antidote to the heaviness of the world in recent years.”
I think that’s why we love these insane little surf films. As an indie production, The Road to Patagonia is able to benefit from Matty’s vision and creativity while tackling subjects that most brands wouldn’t even go near, like politics and religion.
And while the doco shows us the effects of capitalism and the corporate domination of our natural way of life, it’s also not anti-business. For example, the film really shined a light on Heather’s business as an urban farmer in British Columbia, and her commitment to sustainable, local, and healthy food systems.
Of course, it’s impossible for indie films to get off the ground without some kind of support. When faced with the need to promote his doco and take it on the road, Matty said it felt natural to team up with Stone & Wood Brewing Co. as the presenting sponsor of the film tour.
“They’re a big supporter of regenerative farming techniques and use those ingredients in their beer. Through the Ingrained Foundation, they also support a whole range of conservation, activist, and regenerative initiatives.
“Yeti also helped us get on the road for the film tour, and anyone that’s picked up one of their coolers knows that it’s most likely going to outlive themselves, and that says something.
“I think it’s really important to highlight the businesses that are working hard to change the landscape, because at the end of the day, we need systemic change, and that takes everyone’s participation, from a hippy in a tree to the CEO of a multinational.”
It would be fair to say that Matty carries these attitudes with him wherever he goes. Not only does he believe that adventures can reconnect us with the earth and each other, but also that immersive documentaries can inspire audiences into self-reflection and action.
Today, in a far cry from his arduous life in the city, Matty is kept busy running his documentary production company, Never Never. Most of the films he makes are ecologically and culturally focused, meaning he gets to do the work he loves (in some of the most stunning, culturally rich places in the world), while somehow always finding a way to tie it into surfing.
Constantly driven by the ancestral values of the people he spoke to on his journey, Matty said he is looking forward to making more time for his family, the land, his community, and, of course, the waves.
“I’m currently raising money for my friend Aman Lepon to build a cultural longhouse for the children of his village. He has a dedicated space to teach them about Arat Sabulungan – the traditional animistic culture of Mentawai. I’m aiming to get a GoFundMe happening for that, because people have been giving us lots of cash at the screenings because they want to help.
“Heather and I are also having our second child in June, so after the tour we’ll be moving towards a slower time. I’ve got a few interesting film projects lined up. We’re hoping to make it to Ireland to introduce our kids to my granny for her 90th birthday, and to use our time there to delve deeper into our own ancestry.
“I’m lucky that my work takes me on adventures and gives me space to delve into politics, issues, or stories. In our free time, we surf, swim in the crystal-clear river near our house, or go hiking. Heather’s also teaching me about permaculture.”
If the stunned silence prompted by The Road to Patagonia says anything, it’s that the film hits home pretty hard for a majority of us. Clearly, humans aren’t made for the repetitive and noisy life that we live. So, when the days get tedious, maybe we just need to get out there, amongst the incredible stories and people that inspire us, and pick up a bloody surfboard already.
Matty said that it’s only in very recent history, since the agricultural and industrial revolutions and everything else, that we have veered so far from a life lived in relation to the biosphere.
“Since the trip, I have read a lot about the people of Britannia and the various diaspora of that region. I learned that my own deep-time ancestors weren’t that dissimilar to the Aboriginal people of Australia or the First Nations people of the Americas.
“In a way, that’s the crux of the film. Across the globe every human race and culture was once deeply connected to the land and living world. Modern humanity is the anomaly, not the norm.”