Some kids' shoots happen in studios with pretend trees. Mine happen an hour and a half from home, up a trail, in real hiking boots that I was being paid to wear. Alberta has advantages.
The call time was six in the morning, which Mum warned me about three times and I still didn't believe. But here's the thing about mountain light at seven a.m.: it's ridiculous. The lake we shot at looks photoshopped in real life. There were actual kayakers going past, who were not part of the shoot, but waved anyway and made it into the pictures.
My job for the day: sit on rocks, dangle my feet in water that I can only describe as recently melted, walk the same twenty metres of trail eleven times, and look like there was nowhere else I'd rather be. This required no acting whatsoever, except for the water part. The water part required acting.
The crew was surprised I didn't complain on the hike up. I was surprised they were surprised. By lunch the art director was asking Dad whether I'd done climbing lessons, because I kept scrambling up things between setups. The answer is no, I'm just eleven, and things are for climbing.
We wrapped by two. I slept the whole drive home and woke up still wearing one boot. Ten out of ten, would summit again.