Filming Horror Alone in the Idaho Wilderness: Behind The Thing in the Sawtooths
Watch the Short: The Thing in the Sawtooths
Filmed completely solo in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, this five-minute horror short explores fear, solitude, and imagination in the wilderness. Shot on a Sony A7 IV, it combines real isolation with cinematic storytelling.
There’s something about isolation in the wilderness that instantly inspires fear. Maybe not fear exactly, but it can be creepy out there — especially alone. Our imagination runs wild wondering what could be out there. Sasquatch, Yeti, even the Loch Ness Monster — all conjured from the idea that something might be hiding in all that vast space.
I’ve spent a lot of time alone in the mountains and experienced that fear firsthand. I’ve woken up in the middle of the night hearing large footsteps next to me, only to discover a pesky deer wandering around my campsite. But that initial fear when you first hear something like that is real.
And that gave me an idea.
The Idea: Fear in the Wild
I’d describe most of my work as adventure documentaries. Maybe it’s vlog-style, the origin story of a raft company, or a short film about military vets fly fishing in Montana. If it’s not that, it might be a commercial for hiking boots or electric bikes. It’s pretty rare that I create a narrative, fictional story — crafting an imaginative sequence of events. Like most short film ideas, this one had been rolling around in my head for a while.
Going back to that feeling of unease that sometimes accompanies being alone in the wild, I’ve always thought it might be an interesting concept to play with — something stalking me while I’m out there alone.
My first thoughts were about an actual production: actors, creature makeup, lights. A budget of around $10,000. I even wrote a script. Needless to say, it didn’t go anywhere. The demands of real-world responsibility put it on the back burner. It’s just so much work to make a film like that, even a short one.
In my younger days, I was always making short films and submitting them to festivals. I got turned off to that pretty quickly — it just wasn’t for me. But the idea of a little horror short remained.
Fast forward to 2025, and a new piece of equipment enters the picture: I bought an RV. The logistics of going out into the wilderness and making something like this with a tent is daunting. How do you get your equipment out there — especially lights? Maybe you fake the location. You go in summer because it’s too cold later in the year. There will be people around. How do you get that feeling of solitude?
Well, an RV changes that. Now there’s some control. You have lights. You have warmth. You have space. You have power. Once I switched my idea from a tent to an RV, the picture became much clearer. I could see how I could do it with no crew, no money, no actors, no makeup — just me, my camera, and the RV. All I needed was a spot.
Planning for Story
Timing was everything. Stanley and the Sawtooths are a busy place in the summer and deathly cold in the winter. There’s a short window after Redfish Lodge closes and before the snow buries the area that I thought would work. Crowds disappear; it’s cold, but not too cold.
My original idea was a tent in the middle of the wilderness, but getting out into the actual backcountry raises a lot of logistical challenges. I know the Stanley area well and knew of a spot or two around the closed lodge where I’d be somewhat alone — alone enough to make it seem like I was completely isolated (I didn’t have to fake it; no one was within a mile of me).
Crowds weren’t the only part of the timing component — the October season feels spooky. We connect the look of fall with horror because of Halloween. Cinematography and filmmaking use subliminal techniques to convey feeling. Just look at horror movies: they’re dark, colors are muted, and they carry that fall tone. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is set on a hot summer day in Texas, but its orange and red palette still feels like Halloween. All those post-harvest cornfields. It would feel strange if a movie like that had the same color palette as Barbie, right?
Any filmmaker needs to consider the feeling of their project. Even if you’re making a commercial, tone matters. More serious? More shadows. Fun summer activity? Bright light and deep color saturation. It all ties together.
I also needed gear. I took more than I usually do on a backpacking trip, but still not a whole lot. Much of this was going to be shot on a tripod, so I didn’t need fancy gimbals or lights. Here’s what I used:
The final thing I needed was the creature. In the beginning, I envisioned some alien creature — played by a professional actor with extensive makeup. Needless to say, that wasn’t going to happen.
Being October, all the Halloween costume shops were open, so I went perusing. There were masks, clowns, aliens, Freddy Krueger. I walked the aisles thinking through how each might fit the film. What could I quickly change into? What could look believable and scary?
Then I found it — simple and effective. An all-black ghoul costume with red glasses that would flicker in and out. When I saw it, it all clicked. I could see in my mind how to shoot this costume, how to create tension, how to use those red eyes. It was time to head to the Sawtooths.
🏔️ Sawtooth National Recreation Area – The dramatic alpine region of central Idaho where this short was filmed.
🏕️ Redfish Lake Lodge – The seasonal mountain lodge whose closure marked the eerie quiet of filming alone in late fall.
Filming Alone
I have a lot of experience filming alone. I make a lot of solo adventure content, and I wanted this to feel similar. I chose a spot near Redfish Lodge with plans to hike up to Bench Lakes. I wanted to showcase the beauty of the Sawtooths too.
The first thing you need to do in a project like this is establish the environment — moving from wide shots into those tight, intimate moments. I started super wide with my drone, getting shots from above Redfish Lake and the Sawtooth Mountains. This instantly gives the audience a grasp of where we are, what time of year it is, and the solitude of the place.
Next, I shot contextual details to deepen that sense of isolation: Redfish Lodge boarded up, everything empty. It lets the audience know we’re in the off-season — everyone’s gone home.
Then I brought the viewer inside the RV, slowly and deliberately. I used my 14mm for most of the interior shots. The film has zero dialogue, so everything relies on camera movement and framing to convey emotion. Using a super-wide lens made the RV feel small and surrounded by emptiness — visually communicating isolation and loneliness.
The drone shots helped here too. A slow descent toward the RV creates an ominous feeling — like something’s hanging over it. It also physically moves the viewer into the space.
Once inside, I switched to tighter shots: creepy children’s drawings, a candle, the doorway where something might enter. I could’ve used the 24–105mm and zoomed in, but I chose the 35mm for its shallow depth of field. The bokeh adds mystery, and shallow focus lets me direct exactly where the audience looks. You can actually guide their eyes with focus.
The next day, I hiked to Bench Lakes. This was straightforward — showcasing the Sawtooths using the 24–105mm f/4 lens. A fire ripped through the area last year, and the mix of dark burned trees with the season’s first snow looked incredible.
Once there, it was time to introduce the monster. I wanted it to seem like the ghoul found me at the lakes and followed me back to the RV. And yes — I pulled out a Halloween costume, put it on, and walked around in it. No getting around it — if you shoot a short film yourself, you’re the actor. So commit to it!
It feels silly dressing up in a $30 costume and walking around, but that’s acting. You think the guy playing Superman feels like Superman when he’s strapped to cables in front of a green screen?
I also needed shots of me and the creature together. I’d set up the camera on a tripod, shoot myself without the costume, then — without moving the camera — switch into the costume and shoot again. In post, I layered the shots to have both versions of me in one frame.
It’s time-consuming, so you can’t overuse it. I mixed in other ways to show presence without revealing the creature — shadows moving across a shot, me looking into the trees at nothing. That sense of something being there without showing it builds tension and makes the reveal stronger.
Back at the RV, I used similar techniques. One handheld POV shot has me scanning the area, camera mimicking head movement as red glowing eyes flicker in the trees. Once I had all the shots, it was time to edit.
Post-Production: Building the Atmosphere
There’s no dialogue in the film, but it’s not silent. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: audio is 51% of the story.
I focused on capturing as much sound in the field as possible — my breathing, the RV creaking, the night wind. I even went out in the middle of the night and recorded five minutes of pure ambient sound. When the wind picked up, I’d place my mic among the trees to capture that cold, rustling texture. I banged on the RV different ways just to have variations for later.
A lot of the audio work happened in post. I recorded myself making strange noises, then manipulated them with effects to create the creature’s sound. I layered versions throughout the film — sometimes even when the creature wasn’t on screen — to maintain its presence.
Drones don’t record audio, so I used those wind sounds to fill in the overhead shots.
Music was another key. I used eerie strings and low tones, plus a single jump scare with a sudden sharp note. But silence can be just as scary as sound — maybe even more so. Letting silence breathe, then bringing in music only when necessary, helped shape the mood perfectly.
Once audio was locked, I finalized color grading and composited the shots where the creature and I appear together.
🎬 Adobe Premiere Pro – The editing software used to craft every scene and sound layer in the final film.
Why I’ll Keep Doing This
So why do something like this? On the surface, it can seem very silly. One day I’m in a collared shirt, in a high-rise office, interviewing a CEO — getting paid for my work. The next, I’m spending money to run around in the woods wearing a $30 Halloween costume.
I sat down recently with a college kid — a media student at Boise State. He had an assignment to interview someone in the field he wants to pursue. I told him: start making stuff and don’t stop.
I asked, “What do you like to shoot?”
He said, “I like cars.”
So go shoot cars.
He said, “I’m looking at car shows coming up in the next couple months.”
No — go shoot cars tomorrow. You have a car, right? Your friends have cars. Make a video about every part of a car. Do it however you like — a flashy reel, a comedy, documentary, educational — just start now.
I truly believe the advice I gave that student and still live by it today. As a freelancer, working for myself, it’s a roller coaster. Some months you’re slammed; some months you’re ready to take any job just to stay busy.
My rule for myself is to always work 40 hours a week. If I don’t have work, I make work. And the projects I create for myself are always the most fun and rewarding. No rules, no clients — just creativity.
Client work is about bringing their vision to life. These passion projects are the gym where I train my creativity — where I experiment, fail, and learn. And what I learn out there, I bring back to paid work stronger.
There’s also a marketing benefit. We’re in the business of marketing — so why not practice what we preach? Each piece of content is something for your website, your YouTube, your Instagram. Heck, you can even turn them into blog posts. Every project is an opportunity to attract work.
And the funny thing is, your passion projects usually turn out to be your best stuff. You’re deeply invested, so it makes sense they’d best represent you.
It used to be that you’d send your films to festivals and hope people watched. Now, with the internet, you have access to the world. You can upload to YouTube and reach thousands. You get feedback, you learn, you grow.
And most importantly — doing this kind of stuff is just plain fun.
If you haven’t seen the short yet, you can watch it here:
👉 Watch The Thing in the Sawtooths
And if you’re a filmmaker thinking about trying something solo — do it. You’ll learn more about storytelling, yourself, and your limits than any film set could ever teach you.
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Watch the Short: The Thing in the Sawtooths
Filmed completely solo in Idaho’s Sawtooth Mountains, this five-minute horror short explores fear, solitude, and imagination in the wilderness. Shot on a Sony A7 IV, it combines real isolation with cinematic storytelling.
🧭 Explore More from Jon Conti Visuals
If you enjoyed this behind-the-scenes look at The Thing in the Sawtooths, here are a few more ways to see what I create and how I work:
🎬 Video Production Services – High-end cinematic storytelling for brands, tourism, and adventure projects.
📸 Photography – Commercial, lifestyle, and outdoor imagery across Idaho and the Pacific Northwest.
🚁 Drone Services – Licensed aerial cinematography capturing Idaho’s scale and beauty from above.
🔁 Monthly Content Retainer Plans – Consistent, story-driven content creation for businesses that need regular video and photo assets.
🙋♂️ About Jon Conti – Learn more about my background and approach to filmmaking.
✉️ Contact – Reach out to collaborate or book your next project.
FAQ: Solo Horror Filmmaking
How did you film this short completely alone?
Everything was shot solo using a tripod, drone, and a remote trigger. I’d frame the scene, hit record, and step into position. For moments where I needed myself and the creature in the same shot, I filmed two takes from a locked-off tripod and composited them together in post.
What camera gear did you use?
I shot on the Sony A7 IV, mainly using the 35 mm f/1.4 and 14 mm f/1.8 lenses. Drone shots came from the DJI Mini 4 Pro, and audio was captured with a RØDE VideoMic Pro. The simplicity of the setup made it realistic to hike, camp, and film alone.
How did you create the monster or “thing”?
No makeup crew here — just a $30 Halloween costume, black robe, and red-lit glasses. The trick was how it was filmed: quick flashes, darkness, and suggestion. The less you show, the more the audience’s imagination fills in the blanks.
How did you capture sound when you were alone?
I recorded ambient tracks — wind through trees, creaks on the RV — then layered those with breathing, footsteps, and manipulated noises I made later in my studio. Half the fear comes from audio.
Where exactly was it filmed?
Around Redfish Lake and the Sawtooth Mountains near Stanley, Idaho. I timed it right after the lodge closed for the season, when the area is empty but not yet snowed in — perfect for solitude and eerie quiet.
Any advice for other filmmakers who want to try a solo project?
Start small, embrace limitations, and film something that excites you. Constraints force creativity. Treat it as practice — every solo project builds confidence and technique you’ll bring back to your client or crewed work.
